Baltimore - Washington DC. No hitching necessary. Compassion filled.

I awoke to a knock at the door. Hostel check out was 11. It was 1230. I didn't go to bed until late, as I was blogging and logging my video footage. Since it was a hostel, they were all kosher about it and let me take my time getting my things together. I packed, showered and headed upstairs to return my key, and thank them. I chilled in the front room and googled how to get to DC. It was alot closer than I had thought, but in my experiences, knew it was borderline impossible to hitch. As confident and persistent as I am, I'm also realistic, and it just wasn't worth the effort. Add the flurries of snow hitting the city, I figured out a way into DC without thumbing it. I would take the light rail to the airport, where I could take a courtesy shuttle to the DC metro, and from there take the DC subway into the city centre. It was about a 2 hr trip. I wandered around Baltimore abit, knowing this, and killed some time. I walked down to the Orioles stadium and asked the man at the desk if I could go to the gates and snap a picture. He told me it was closed. I told him I'm a journo, and was globetrotting and wanted nothing more than a quick pic to prove I was there. He told me it was closed. I said it wouldn't take more than two seconds. He told me it was closed. I said 'mate, I realize its closed, I'm not here for a tour, I just want a picture of me in front of Cal Ripken Jr,' He told me it was closed. I told him I was shooting a documentary on human compassion and wasn't here to cause trouble, merely to get me tourist souvenir. The older gentleman, a southern accented black man watching a basketball game snapped. He told me he has explained himself. I informed him he has only repeated himself. I told him he didn't need to be an asshole, I was clearly a tourist with my bags and dangling camera, and he hasn't a compassionate bone in his body. He told me its people like me who 'spect' everything to come easy, but the world doesn't work like that. It was funny, as he had no idea what I was up to. I told him I didn't want to argue, and that I wasn't here for a problem, rather just to take a photo. I told him to have a nice day, and try to treat the next person with a little more respect. In spite, I walked around the building, hopped two fences and got one away from being in the actual stadium. Suck it.
Just because I can. Behind enemy lines.
This ones for you Higgy. Jealous? haha. Ravens official megastore.


I walked back to the light rail and asked some cops for the proper direction. With my appearance, a man on a bench was intrigued and asked if I needed change. I said no, but I guess in a way he knew yes. He handed me a handful of American change, and it got me onto the train. I thanked him, and he didn't even know what I was up to.
While I waited for the train, a lovely woman came up to me and bubbly asked where I was from and where I was heading. Her jaw dropped and every word I said had her mouth falling further agap. She asked to take my photo, and to write my blog on her shopping bag. We both got on the train, and she continued talking to me about my dealio. She was a social worker dealing with troubled youth in Boston, in town for a seminar. I told her about my views and she said she was so refreshed to see a young man aware of global issues and pushing to make a change. She slipped a bill into my hand and said to treat myself when I get hungry. I hugged her and whispered "its people like you who make this project possible, and my views a reality". She was touched, and I was as equally moved by her kindness. We got off together at the airport and wished eachother well, and she promised to follow me.
Sooo I went to jail because I didn't give up my seat. Only in America.

I walked through the airport, and it was crowded with grounded passengers due to the storm.
I went to the bus stop, and when it finally came asked the driver to be let on, and he waved me through. I found a copy of Popular Science in the airport, and gave it to him. He was real appreciative, and it made me wish people could just be kinder, as its only the little things that we value.
While I was standing at the front of the bus, I noticed a gangster looking kid at the back staring at me. It was a very intimidating stare, and it made me nervous. The bus was full of people who had clearly just flown in, but I could see he was singling me out. I had pulled out my camera and iPod at least once during the ride, and it must have given him some ideas. I'm never one to get paranoid for this sort of thing, but my radar was going, and this wasn't something from nothing. I kept looking through my peripherals and he never took his eyes off of me.
When the bus finally pulled into the stop, I was first off and rushed out, and stood behind a pole where I could see everyone getting off, but they wouldn't see me immediately in the darkness.
When he got off, he looked left and right, like he was looking for something. Or someone. I continued to stay parallel to him, and watched him scan around looking over the bus stop. I waited for him to walk away, but he saw me.
He immediately acted weird, and walked away, continually looking back. I walked towards the subway station and he turned around, in my direction. I had no choice. I immediately walked right up to him.
I looked him in the eye, and asked if he had a problem. He said nothing, only stared. I stared coldly into his eyes, and told him he doesn't know me, don't fuck with people you don't know. I told him he best fuck off sharpish while he still had the legs to carry him, (Snatch quote) cause he picked the wrong person. I never broke eye contact, and I was dead serious. I was taller than him, but he was bigger. He made that pfff click noise with his tongue and walked away.
I could write a full entry on how this worked, and maybe it was luck, but Ill only say one thing.
You control how people perceive you.
If you want to be weak, people will see this. If you are strong, it will be seen.
You control how people perceive you.

I watched him walk away, and he looked back several times. I just stood there, fists clenched.
He disappeared into the distance, and I walked into the station. I asked to get into the subway, and once in safely, let out a sigh of relief. It was my first scare, and my heart was beating like a hammer.
I got on the subway, counted my blessings, and forgot about it. I knew it was imminent on this trip, and it will happen again in more severity. Its a risk I knew going into it, and have accepted.
I got into DC, and met a cute Colombian woman who helped me with directions. After a quick chat, she invited me back to her house, but called her roommate to make sure it was OK.
It wasn't.
She tried convincing, but not everyone is open to the idea, and I can never blame them. I thanked her regardless, and carried on, slightly bummed. It was too easy. She even promised to cook!
I wandered the DC borough, and when I asked a cop for directions, she told me to get the hell out of the neighbourhood, as its one of the roughest in the city. After that, I then noticed the abundance of police presence. I took everything with a grain of salt, and tapped into my donated funds again, and walked to the DC hostel. I don't consider it a break in oath, as the donated funds are emergency only, and it was easily -10C and I had no idea of DC or its demographics.
I found the hostel, and checked in.
When I came down to use my computer, I met a group of high school media students from south England. We ended up sharing stories, and they offered me to join them for the massive dinner they were preparing. I accepted, and it was awesome. Plates full of pasta, salad and cake, it was great, as I had hardly eaten all day. We talked about all kinds of stuff, and when I told them my gig, thought it was super cool. The guys were cool and the girls were cute, and I hung out with Louis and Sam for the evening, sharing music, thoughts and cigarettes. As it got later, we all went to bed, and I was happy to have met a bunch of cool kids, and have a warm place, thanks to the generosity of people beforehand.
I laid in bed, blogging, and counted my blessings.

On the road again...

Kerouac styles. The boys took me across the 15 minute state of Delaware, and actually all the way across the line into Maryland. They brought me to a major truck hub, and we said our goodbyes. Promises of keeping in touch hardly seemed enough, as like I have said, were new friends all of them. (Que precious 'awwwws') But for cereal.

I watched them drive away and then wasted no time in finding a ride. I immediately began my quest, seeking out each and every trucker.
Each and every trucker couldn't give a flying shit about my appearance, story, or who or how I was.
I wandered around for quite a while, flocking between both exits. I begged, pleaded and did whatever I could do to convince any rigger I wasn't a threat, and to take me as far south as possible.
No dice.
I went back in and chilled in the truckers' lounge for a bit. Some of those dudes are shadier than a trench coated playground man. They reeked of beer, mumbled to themselves and played shooter games in the arcade. Intensively. Despite this, I was still so desperate to get the hay out of Maryland and south, I would have taken a ride from serial killer number 1.
I ran into a Mexican driver who would have taken me, but had his wife and kids in the car and even though he still would have taken me, it was just too full. He was the only person I could have a conversation with, and English was his second language.
If that was any indication of how little of a chance I had, I was frustrated. I ended up asking the most gangster dude I have ever seen in my life for a ride in his Cadillac. I'm not judging, but I KNOW he had a gun in the car, and for that reason, he said 'naw cuz'.
Agitated and losing precious time, I wasn't going to find compassion or a generous open mind among the Nascar jackets, beef jerky sticks and stinky, buzzed truckers, so I walked to the highway. On the way through the parking lot, I asked a southern black man to radio in the lot if anyone was Florida bound. One dude crackled back over the radio "only eif eits a cheick".
Ummm yea, I thanked him and kept on amidst my frustration. It was over 2 hours in an incredibly active truck hub.
Where I got my ride from Dave, the truck stop is just to the left.

I wandered to the highway and posted up just before the I95 on ramp. Im confined to the on ramps, as it is illegal everywhere to be on the interstate. Mega sucky. Ive researched everytime I'm on the Internet ways to get around it, but niente. I cannot afford an arrest or ticket throughout the entire duration of this project, as it would completely shut down my progress. I could be deported once they figure out my visa-less passport. I guess thats whats making this so fun.
Hitching!

I propped up B1 and B2, as they're my tickets of credibility in the 2 second discretion window of the 100 m/h passerbys. I held up the sign, and thumb out. Streams of cars flew by, most too scared to look at me. It was roughly 3ish and I remember thinking Ill be staying here for the night, if the people's reactions are any indication of my prospects. I remember one woman looking and when my eyes met hers she swung her head so fast, it was as if she had just walked in on her parents.... People are deathly afraid of the idea of a hitchhiker, and this is why I'm so fascinated by the concept.
I was out there cursing skyward after about a half an hour, when a shiny black Lincoln Navigator pulled over. He asked where I was going, laughed when I said Africa, smiled when I said Miami and said hop in when I said as far south as he was going. I tossed the kids into the back, and climbed aboard. It was quite cold out, and I never wear a hat or gloves while hitching, so people can see my face. The warm heater in the car was heaven sent.
Dave was a mild mannered, well spoken and well dressed man from nearby. We struck up a good convo, and I was just chuffed to have gotten a ride. He wasn't going too far, but anywhere but there was good in my books.
He was a consultant for new businesses in California, but had been out east for a bit since his parents died. He also confided I was the first person I had ever picked up, and it was my 'outdoor magazine image' and adventure traveler sign that did it for him. I was happy to hear this, knowing it had opened someone out of their element.
We talked about all kinds of stuff, and carried on through the Maryland countryside. He took me to another rest stop about 30mi away. He offered to buy me lunch, and I was so hungry, I accepted his kind gesture. He bought me a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a coke. He went from never picking up a hitcher to buying them a meal, and sharing his afternoon. He kept mentioning how 'new' this was for him, but I was happy, as this was the EXACT scenario my filming was after. Utilizing the extremely unorthodox method of hitching to provoke compassion amidst its dark reputation. We talked about all things hitching, society decay and the prospect of him doing it again. He was honest, and said he wont pick up another hitcher. When I asked why, he told me seeing me was a spark of adventure into his life, where it normally lacks. He had a taste, and although he enjoyed it, once was enough. It wasn't totally what I wanted to hear, as I hope that my positive experiences will allow people to open up again to another hitching teen, but I appreciated his honesty.
We exchanged information, and I added him to the growing mailing list.

As darkness fell, I knew my chances were slim, so I immediately headed to the ramp in hopes of getting that last ride, 30 miles into Baltimore.
I posted up while the sun set, and it wasn't long before two troopers arrived on the seen. Not at all what I wanted to see after a fairly frustrating day.
The first officer climbed out and approached me in his most intimidating manner. His dorky hat complete with bum chin in a chin strap voided any and all fear I normally would have had. Not really, I'm just trying to be cool. I was pretty nervous.
He asked me how it was going, and that he had a complaint I was walking to the interstate. Noooow people see the hitcher. I was so pissed when I heard someone had complained. Americans can suck so hard sometimes.
He was a real prick, and after a minute of him hassling me, I was able to decipher I was approximately 64.8% smarter than him, and I hadn't said a word yet. I let him say everything he needed to say. I corrected that hitching is only illegal on the actual I95, and the on ramps are fair game. He knew this, and then asked for some ID. I showed it to him, and he looked at me, down at my bags(poor B1, he had like 3 knives on him and was probably worried sick) and realized I was just some foreigner with an adventurous mind, and not a threat. I think when he got the call he was all amped to bust some drunk stumbling around, not some kid with a legit story and nothing incriminating. The second officer could see this clearly, and didn't say anything, and eventually left halfway through, realizing I was exactly that. Officer Textbook still wanted to give me some hassle. He was just doing his job, but I had put to rest any clouds and let him know I had no plans to go any further than where I was. He had a very unfortunate skin condition, and had a large growth on his right eye. I was too quick to judge, thinking in my head he had been bullied his entire life, and became a cop to bust all the high school has-beens that ruined his childhood. I don't know if this was the case, but it certainly seemed so.
I asked if he thought the place had wireless, and his response was "I don't know if you read the news, but here in this country, we're poor". WHO SAYS THAT, honestly? Well Sir, I do read the news, but that doesn't answer my question. He would be lucky to win a round of Jeopardy against the sorority girls.
He called in my ID, and when it came back clean, handed it to me, and asked me to walk 10 steps back, just for safety reasons. He just had to get in the last move, compensating for a small you know what. -is my resentment towards authority prevalent yet?
As they drove off, I muttered to myself how happy I was that I'm not a cop, as I would take the police issued pistol and put it to my temple, realizing I had sold my soul. ( I wouldn't actually, but then again, I would never become a cop)
Do you think they'd read the blog?

It was freezing, dark and no chance of me getting a ride. I could be a pin-up model, and probably still not get a ride. Maryland sucked.
I walked into the building, pulled out my laptop, and logged onto the Internet. Who would have thought?
After an email check and checking the soccer scores to escape my current situation, I had to find that ride, I was determined to get as far away from there as possible.
I wandered around, and held the doors asking people for easily 2 hours. Maybe 1 in 5 would say thank you. It was appalling. After giving up on people, I walked in and sat on a bench, and it was one of the low points in the trip so far. Here I was at a very busy spot, people flowing through, 20 mins from my daily goal and not a single person was able to use their discretion and see that I was just an adventurous teen and not a serial murderer.
I overheard a man saying he was happy to be done work, and thought that was my chance. I approached him as non-threatening as possible, and asked if he was heading to the big city. He told me know, but the way he said it, I could tell he was lying. He was a nervous, nerdy, portly man who was extremely worried about me being anywhere near him. I told him my gig, and emphasized the human compassion bit, that I was a writer, and the only reason I was doing this was by choice as a social experiment. True for the most part, but embellished.
He recognized I wasn't the average hitcher, and finally agreed. PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIMEEE. I was so happy. I will never adjust to the mentally draining roller coaster this trip is.
He told me to sit tight as he finished his paperwork. I was just ecstatic at the idea of leaving this awful place, the stares from onlookers was enough to boil my blood. I cant believe how close minded some people are. I asked well over 100 people in the time I was there in an uber polite manner for a ride to the city, even offering to tap into the money I had been given along the way to buy them a meal. Nothing. Luckily I now had my ride, and could stop worrying about my future.
He came over and told me we were ready to go. I could tell he was still really nervous at the fact of driving me, and he was completely out of his element. He awkwardly introduced me as Tony, and led me to his Toyota Camry. I tossed the gear in the back, and we jumped in. As we drove off, I had a quick worry that I had left my laptop behind, always paranoid about my crap while travelling. While I was reaching back fumbling through B2, he snapped. "What are you doing?!" he asked in a panic. Realizing exactly what had happened, and that he thought I was reaching for something malicious, I told him I had merely thought I forgot my laptop, and that it was there(it was) and calmed his nerves with conversation. He was in a full sweat. He reminded me of Milton from Officespace, and looked like him minus the moustache. Mumbly, nervous and socially awkward. He was very well spoken and an obvious intellect. He possessed all the characteristics of a book worm, and was only growing more nervous, despite my attempts at diverting it with a distracting conversation. His wife called, and it was really weird. He told her he was giving someone a ride home, and told her to call back in 5. She did, and he said the same thing. He did this the entire way into Baltimore. In between check ins to confirm he was not chopped up and being stuffed into the trunk, he told me he had been working selling sunglasses(that's where he was working when I met him) his entire life. He told me Baltimore was beyond dangerous, and the minute he dropped me off to get out of the streets, as I will be mugged or worse in less than 10 minutes. I'm pretty sure he doesn't watch the Wire but if he did( its a crime drama filmed and set in Baltimore which is very gang/hiphop influenced) he would shit bricks and board up the windows. He took me through the tunnel and into downtown and dropped me off at a posh hotel.
Time warping the tunnel into Baltimore with Tony the stressball.

Oh, by the way, IT WAS F*CKING VALENTINES DAY. In 20/20 hindsight, maybe this was why people didn't want to pick me up; the headlines were too easy. 'Valentines Day Massacre' or 'Hitchhiker paints the roads red'. Maybe they were all just too keen on running home and jumping between the sheets.
I thanked him, and the minute I closed the door, I could almost hear his sigh of relief. Tony was a lifesaver, and took me into Baltimore, and prevented me from sleeping a very frosty night outside, but hes going to give himself a heart attack if he carries on stressing in that manner.

I walked into the hotel, whipped out the laptop and needed to find a place to stay. Baltimore was rough -I googled it, and decided to take some of the money I had been given along the way and go to the hostel a few blocks away.
As I walked in to the very cool, quaint hostel, I was greeted by a very cute hippie-ish girl at the front desk. I checked in, and chatted with her about a bunch of stuff. She told me to come back up for a cigarette when I was done, so I went down to my private room, and took a much needed shower. I went up and we stepped outside and talked. It was the first like-minded person I had met in the states. She was tres cool, and into many things I was into. She offered me some food in the kitchen, and told me she was done at 11. After ranting about the failure of America, I went down to blog, and take another hot shower. While I was chowing on some chaaacken she came and told me she was off, and invited me upstairs to smoke a joint.
We went to the managers apartment, as she was out of town. We smoked the Baltimore goods, and talked and talked. She was really cool, and gave me some great tips of places visit in town, although I was leaving in the am. It was getting pretty late, and as much as I was thinking about asking her down to my room, I was thinking of a girl back home. We vegged on the couch and smoked a buttload of cigarettes and shared a beer. It was so great to unwind and chill with someone really cool after such an aggravating day.
We ended up saying goodnight, and I headed downstairs to my room. Sure there was a small apart of me that wanted to continue hanging out with Julia, but it just reiterated my feelings for someone else.
I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water and went to bed.

It was quite the day. I left the boys of TKE, internally bursted in frustration for hours, shared a generous meal with my only 'hitch', stressed Tony to near cardiac arrest and met my first American hippie.
P.S. the Baltimore Hostel is one of the coolest H.I.'s Ive ever stayed in.

On the road again...

After waking in the girls room, we hung out for a bit, munched some left over pizza, and split just before noon. Every door in the building had a white board, and I was just too tempted to leave some old NORTS all over the place. I pictured everyone waking up, asking who the hell was NORT?
Its the hitchhiker from Canada with a funny accent, silly neener head.

So back into the sunshine, we went through the student car park. It was full of imports, new SUVs and high end compacts. It was a clear indication of the income at the school, and I pictured kids piling into cars going skiing for the weekend, or day trips to NYC shopping. As much as I was slightly envious of seeing the student life again, I was dying to get on the road, and continue what I love so much. I realized I wouldn't be happy here for more than a few days. The feelings that followed my thoughts of hitching to a new place, and new faces thrilled me well beyond campus life. I had experienced it, and lived it in Canada, and didn't feel I was missing out. Although the food buffets would be a bonus. We made it back to the TKE house in no time, and I went upstairs to quickly pack my things. Ryan, the driver, said he could take me to UDEL, University of Delaware. I got Bi and B2 together, along with my new souvenir Tshirts, and thanked each and every guy for the good times. They had completely opened their lives, rooms and trust to me; a strange hitchhiker which pushes any boundary of trust in America. I am forever in their debt. Just as I was leaving, Tonk pulled me upstairs and handed me his number and enough money for an emergency meal should I ever find myself hard pressed.
Its people like him, TKE and so many others before that make this trip possible. I told him it wasn't a one time thing, and that I would be back someday to do it all over again.
I had a chat with Chris, a cool guy and found out he actually is in the military and served overseas. It was crazy to hear about a guy my age fighting in the war. Though we didn't talk too much, he was a good guy in my books, despite his Pam Anderson-esque tattoo.
As much as I was ready to go, I did feel like I was leaving my homies. I was from a different world to them, and them to I, and it was mutually new. I think I might have inspired a few of them to push for what they want in life, and they opened my mind to a plethora of ideas and feelings, as well as reigniting some old ones.
I didn't take too many photos during my stay there, almost entirely video footage, but on my way down the stairs, I stopped to take one to sum up the entire weekend.
They were everywhere, and it was a token and culmination of the TKE lifestyle.



Boys, It was a fucking show. I hope you enjoyed my company as much as I did yours, I will be telling your stories of wild antics and hilarious quotes for years to come.

Now wheres the Tylenol?

Tau Kappa Epsilon Part Three

Waking in the sorority house was different. The bed was comfy, the company was nice, the walls pink, but it was something odd. I dont know quite what it was, but definately odd. Lauren had to leave early to head back to Jersey, so it made for an abrupt wake up. It was kind of awkward too. We walked down the grand staircase, past all of the previous sister photos, and flower arrangements. It was very neatly decorated, and again, met the sterotype to a T. After stepping out into the crisp morning air, we gave eachother a hug, well wishes and parted. It was pretty awkward, I wont lie. I shuffled my feet the few houses down to the boys' house, and of course it was locked, and since it was 9am, of course not a chance a single one was awake. After what seemed like 10 minutes of ringing the doorbell, I gave up, and improvised. Still half in the bag, I walked up the snowboard ramp. The roof was just out of my reach so I grabbed a plastic chair from another frat house. Standing on it I was able to reach some icy snow and pull myself up, triggering the party in my stomach. I trudged to the window, and had to jump as high as I could, and hoist myslef up. It was not how I intended to start the morning, but hey, when in Rome, right?
Of course everyone was still sleeping, and you need a stick of dynamite to wake Scrapper up so I just sat in the beer soaked sofa in the hallway, and watched the footage from last night. It was pretty funny stuff. Finally Squid was up, and I passed out on his couch for a few hours. Head was beating like a hammer. The boys started stirring, and before long, everyone was up. I went to breakfast with Ryan, Zac and Brydges. Caf food when hungover=awesomeness. No, seriously. Its beyond feel good, its a chemical thing. After pouring so much fizzy keg beer down the hatch, its an absorbant, as well as a release of fats and sugars the body is now lacking. Its not that Im all bio-intelligent, just happened to catch a Bill Nye recently.
The plan was to hitch out after breaky, but again, I was too easily convinced to stay until Sunday. Ryan told me he had a car off campus, and could take me to Delaware if I waited, and that there was also a sorority party at West Chester University. Although this may have been the time I should have just counted my blessings and carried on, as 3 days in one place is far beyond my policies, I guess the boys were like a home away from home, and I couldnt refuse one more night.
After the what was the biggest Omelette Ive ever had, Brydges had to head home to South Philly, and Duncan was going to drive him. A few of us decided we would head into the city, and they would show me some cool stuff. Duncan, Daddy, Brydges and I went out in Dunc's Bimmer. We went down near the stadiums, checked out some of the neighbourhoods, and they showed me what was the good and bad sides of Philadelphia. They asked if I had had a cheesesteak yet, and although I had that greasy pile of mystery meat upstate, I told them no. They said we were to head down to Geno's the most authentic and famous Philly cheesesteak joints in the city. As we made our way down the narrow, unplowed streets, witnessing what seemed to be people's first snow experiences, we finally made our way to the iconic spot. A massive sign, and in typical Philly fashion; full of signed photos, and Police commemoration decorated the world famous spot. Duncan very kindly grabbed me a steak, and I can now say I have had an authentic Philly sandwich. The thing was loaded with seared steak, topped with melted cheddar and served on a soft yet chewy bun. Wrapped tight, the thing was awesome. So filling, or should I say Philling...(its still early as I write this dont judge)
In front of the legendary Geno's!

All philled up, Daddy, Duncan and I dropped Brydges off and headed back to campus. It was funny seeing people use a shovel on their windshield like it was the sidewalk. We also saw some idiot back violently into a car not twice, but three times.

Daddy had purchased a 'Philly' (Ill let you urban dictionary that, as I already talk too much about it) and he twisted up a baseball bat for Duncan and I. We vegged on the couch, and watched Eastbound and Down. Such a good way to kill of the previous punishment on the liver. We were dozing on and off, and finally I went to take a hot shower to clear my head. Ryan called one of the boys to get to me, and let me know there was a party at WCU we were to attend. Contiuing with the theme of going with the flow, I agreed and they picked me up right after I got my laundry done. Oh and a thing about the laundry. The schemeing geniuses they are rigged the coin laundry machines with straws, and get free wash and drys all semester long. A skill I was taught to take with me on the road. Cheers lads.

Ryan, Ryan and Zac came just after nightfall to grab me and take me down the road to West Chester U. It was a much bigger campus, and they knew a few girls down there. After the strict sign in policy, I was let in without student ID, and we went to chill in one of the girls' rooms while they got ready. Again, they were 'sisters' and the rooms were evident of this. Plastered in photos and Greek letters, the girls were the product of the equivalent to the boys. I think being a frat guy would be 10x more fun, as they party. It seems the girls do lame arts and crafts, play with their hair and talk about which boy they want that night. Well, I guess the boys do the same; but crafts consist of blunt rolling, and they too play with their hair, and talk about which girl they're gonna 'bang'. We walked to another all girl house for pre drinks, and they were really nice, although more ditsy than this girl(remember this?). They put on some more of their awful music, and we pounded down some Vodka shots. Normally this would have had me acting like a bullemic model, but I managed to hold it down, thanks to the Cranberry chaser. We totally lost track of time thanks to Prince Igor and the serenades from Chris Brown. We needed booze, so I went to the shoppe next door, being as that I was the only one older than 21, and I could not have predicted what happened next. The manager refused my passport, (!!!!!!) because he cant tell if its fake or not. Well, seeing as this is completely insane and unheard of, I flipped out. It was the first time I was legitimately angry at someone, and I let him know. I cussed him out proper in front of all the onlookers, and he wasnt budging. There is ONE, I repeat, ONE document that is recognized as internationally secure, accepeted and almost entirely unforgable. He wouldnt take my passport, but he was accepting phony drivers licenses all night long. I was LIVID. I then went to the pizza shoppe next door and asked a dude who looked too old to be on campus if he could help me out, and he said he doesnt talk to non-Americans. Well lets just say I had to refrain myslef and unclench my fists. Ignorance is everywhere, so I had to keep calm and carry on, as the saying goes. I didnt totally cool out, and for the rest of the night was completely shocked that some uneducated barkeep couldnt use his discretion and see my proper IDs were legit. The steam coming from my ears could have powered a freight train. Dry out of booze, we headed to the keggar. Of course sidewalks werent plowed, and the girls in heels were walking like Bambi on ice. It was a terrible sight, and when one girl slurred "Canada is like, known for snow, like, right?" I couldnt take any more ignorance. I cant beleive how many Americans dont know a single fucking thing about the country that shares the largest international land border, and the closest thing to their modern culture and history. As I was walking in the street, the only walkable surface in what seemed the entire state, people were staring at me like a mad man. One of the Ryans kept telling me to watch out like I was near death, but I wasnt even close to the cars passing. I guess they just arent used to winters in Canada, where jaywalking is the new curling. Eh?
We finally made it to the party, only to have it shut down as the kegs were also dry. The freezing temperatures and incompetant girls made for a funny situation, and by funny, I mean friggen frustrating.
We stumbled back to the original dorms, and put on some warm clothes and ordered a butt ton of pizza. By the time it came, I was so tired I could only put down one slice. By the way, if you go to the States, dont order Papa John's. Despite being everywhere, it sucks lemons. Expired lemons.
Zac's 'hookup' offered me her bed, and I passed out almost immediately. I guess it was a good night, but I think it was one night too many, and I was itching to get back on the road.

I passed out clothes on, half drunk, and fell asleep in no time.

As much as I had enjoyed myslef, and made some new friends I will be keeping in touch with, it was time to leave.



____
The internet is being wonky, Ill post up a bunch of pics with this one later on.

Tau Kappa Epsilon Part Two

It was like the Hangover minus the tiger, Mike Tyson and a baby.
I awoke the next morning after what was my first time drinking in a long time, and immediately remembered why. My head was pounding like the SWAT team at the door, and I was sweating like a whore in church. After she hooked up with the entire congregation.
I felt like a bag of fecal matter, and tried falling back asleep, only to lay staring at the Megan Fox poster on the wall. The TV was left on blaring full volume, and even though it was one of those awful court shows, I couldn't possibly be bothered to shut it off. I don't know how he does it, but Scrappy managed to stay sleeping well into the afternoon, despite the commotion.
My plans were to leave today, but all last night, the boys were declaring there was no chance of that, and that I was staying another night no matter what. I couldn't turn it down, as it was too much fun, and there was no way I was going to hitch feeling the way I did. It was like I had a fat kid sitting on my head while Nickleback was on repeat. My brain hated me.
Once the boys are up, you know it. No one knocks. Ever.They kick the door as hard and loud as they can.
Once enough were up and stumbling around, asking what happened the night before, we went to the cafeteria to grab some greasy eats. Stepping into the sunlight was a swift kick in the pants, and only made the headache worse. Squid swiped me in, and the caf was like a dream. It was full buffet styles with the good ol' American eats. The food was just short of an orgasm in the mouth, and I filled 2 plates with bacon, eggs, links, rib sandies, random meat, more random meat, fruit punch and a banana. If my stomach wasn't so full of cheap beer, I would have cleaned the place out.
We chowed down, laughing at the previous evening events. It only got funnier when we had to face the females.
You can tell everyone on campus had a good night; the bags under the eyes, hoodies and sweats, and cups of sugar juice. It was like a commercial for Advil.
We slothed our way back to the house, and it was time for a movie, as brains and bodies couldn't handle anything more. Several cigarettes, Gatorade and a Will Farrell comedy later, we were back to our normal selves. People kept entering the room, asking the evening festivities. Imagine it didn't involve a repeat.
A hot shower never felt so good, and Tonk took me with some of the boys to Quiznos. If you go to Quiznos hungover, get the numero 4, it was like eating 8 inches of heaven. With bacon.
We mowed the subs down, and wandered back to the house. I was falling into the lifestyle the lead and began to felt comfortable, something I try to desperately refrain from while travelling day-to-day. Its easy to get caught up in comfort zones, or familiarities, and these guys reminded me alot of home, yet somehow differently better. I hate to say it, but I was like some sort of celebrity. I had people all day everyday coming up asking if I was the hitcher, and shaking my hand. It was cool, but not my goal. I wanted to use hitching and my wild ways to inspire them to follow their wild ways, and to a degree, I think I did. Certainly for some.
We started to get our things together and crack a few coldies. After I tied the infamous t-shirt to my head, we were ready to dip, and walked through campus to the 'student ghetto'. Pauly's house was your typical off-campus housing, complete with movie posters, stolen signs and stained carpets. We watched the Olympic opening ceremonies waiting for the girls to show, tapping into the kegs. Pitchers and cups poured as we watched the Canadians do their thing, and I was secretly appalled at how little they knew about Canada. I honestly think I knew more about American history than they did. We were all pretty shocked at the Georgian Luger who had passed that day, and the video footage was terrifying. Vancouver did justice, although only because they spent the entire budget on the opening, and forgot about a chunk in the luge track.
Time for some more beer pong. Oswald and I were up on Travis and Shatner the sniper, and they came back to win it. Drinking card games, and some fist pumping tunes, the girls finally showed up to balance the abundance of wiener in the house. And balance they did, loads of girls in Uggs and straightened hair came through. We played a few rounds of flipcup while the Beastie Boys, Daft Punk and Black Eyed Peas held down the beat patrol. It was a good night. We drained the 2 kegs, and partied like it was 1999. I was taken upstairs to the invite-only blunt session, and chilled with a bunch of the boys. We smoked a Philly styled baseball bat and watched karate on TV. Time flew by, and by the time we opened the doors to the haze, the music had stopped, and the mood was dying. I went to grab a last beer when a hot blonde girl came up and introduced herself. I had talked to her for a minute before, and she was one of the few girls who could hold a conversation without using 'like' every two minutes. I cant remember what I was talking about, but she just said she was going to kiss me, and did exactly that. I remember her leaning in, and not even knowing her name, but I was at the point I had forgotten my own.
She asked where I was heading, and told me it didn't matter, as I was going where she was. I just went with it. I'm not acting like it was a struggle, but I had some weird mixed feelings about it. I don't know. Who am I kidding, I wouldn't do anything I didn't want to.
Lauren took me back to Sigma Sigma Sigma sorority house, also known as Tri-Sig. It was straight out of Legally Blonde. A massive colonial house, with ivy terraces and painted shutters. The front hall was a massive grand staircase lined with photos and empowering messages. It was very neat and tidy, and the photos on the wall had girls in pearls, and perfect hair, perfect teeth. The epitome of American Sorority, and they loved it. I was lead upstairs to a room so pink, I swear Pepto-Bismol had exploded violently. Everything was pink, fuzzy, lacy, and neatly decorated. Pictures of past parties and David Beckhams lined the walls in between Abercrombie ads and cliche flower ornaments. They had elaborate closets full of clothes, and handbags out the backside. It would make any girl jealous, but girls, don't be. They had the brain capacities of a 4 year old. Lauren was definately alot cooler in that dept. Whitehouse was also in the building, and was throwing up some seriously drunken acts us young kids these days call 'cockblocks'. (excuse my vulgarity, blame hip-hop and MTV)
Once he finally stumbled out the door, lights went out.
It had been a good 'last' night at Widener.

Tau Kappa Epsilon Part One

Well Officer Gibson-that was his real name, because I dont curr(accent coming through) dropped me off on the Widener University campus, in south Philadelphia so that I could be greeted with some curious stares of the campus crawling kids. After I thanked him for not beating me up(I actually did) and joking aboot how crazy Canadians are, he drove off and I was slightly rattled. It was coming on 5 o'clock, and there wasnt a chance in hell I'd get a ride at this time, in this place.
I walked into a campus building and plunked down the fat ass that is B1. I whipped out the laptop, and prayed I could leech their Internet. Prayers were answered, and I was able to check some emails and try to find me a couch to surf. There was no way in haaayle I was going to find a ride, or granola eating hippie to take me in for the night. A curious professor approached me, and asked me my deal, as I'm sure he could tell I was not a student. I only told him I was a photographer passing through, and needed to check my email, as I don't think the whole hitchhiking on a dime pitch would have worked. He began to ask me questions, not to interrogate and determine if I was a threat, but rather in interest. After a few minutes, I told the bearded older gent my gig. He was super down like a clown, and commented several times on my bravery, and seldom seen passion. I told him I was merely a young and naive kid who thought he had the world all figured out. He told me his son had done a bike trip through the states, and stayed at the different fraternities he was a member of. It was something I hadnt considered; imagine a bunch of frat dudes wouldnt be down with some hitcher kid. I wouldnt even need to tell them the story.
It still seemed a little harder than I initially thought, so I grabbed my gear, and headed down to the Days Inn hotel off campus. I went to the desk, and knowing this was going to be more uphill than Everest, I tried to plead my way into a free room. I told him my gig, that Im travelling in search of human compassion, yadda yadda. Aziz wasnt having none of it. I knew it was a tough gig. I had done it before, but not at a major chain, and not in America. After the pitch didnt work, I looked him in he eye and said 'mano y mano, Im asking you in compassion to save me from sleeping outside'. Still a firm no. I had plenty of money, and the room rate was only $55, but it still breaks all of what Im trying to do, so I had to stay committed, and carry on, despite how grim my chances looked. I noticed a big patch of secluded woods, and figured I could hammock it and be alright. It wasnt as cold as it had been before.
I thanked him for his time, swallowed my feelings and headed back out into the cold.
As I was walking away, some crackhead came up and asked me for change. I said I couldn't help him and apologized and he swore at me. I wont lie; I snapped. I turned to him and went on quite the foul mouth rant about how if he wasnt so addicted to bleeping drugs he wouldn't be asking me for change. I told him there are bigger bleeping problems in this world than cigarettes and he should change the way he thinks, and maybe he wouldnt be outside in only a hoodie, talking to his shadow. He laughed and started to sing 'travellin man, travellin man, life is good, travellin man'. Cocaine is a hell of a drug, isn't it Rick James? He said good for you, you have a backpack, but can I have a dollar? I smiled and just turned around, because I was not about to argue with someone as intelligent as a wooden chair. It was the polar opposite of the mission for this trip, and sure, I could have spared a dollar in reciprocation of compassion, but Ill save it for someone who needs it for food, and not a dime bag.
I walked down what was 'frat row', a line of massive Victorian style houses that had laws littered with beer cans and flipped couches. A snowboard ramp from one had mattresses all over the place.
I saw a few kids standing in the stoop of one, and decided they would be my best bet. I approached them, and hoped with all of my gear and the detailed story they would beleive me and see Im not there to rob them or something.
They were kind of nerdy, and some of them were startled when I mentioned Canada, hitching, couch. Some were startled when I said 'the'. They ended up saying they wish they could, but that they couldnt due to liability of having a non student. I knew the chances were slim, so hopes were never up. Thanking them, and asking advice of what to do, they all had no effing clue, so I walked down the sidewalk, reality setting in. I prepared myself mentally for a frosty night outside, when I saw another group of frat boys walking towards me. In a last ditch attempt in complete desperation, I chose my words carefully and asked them.
These were not the nerdy frat boys who joined a house to have people to play Warcraft with. They were the boys who knew how to party. It took them a few seconds of deliberating to determine whether or not I was legit, and finally asked if I was gonna rob them. I told them Im more afraid of all of them beating me up and robbing me!
They said its cool, and that there would be a spot somewhere, and the 5 or so walked me in.

Thats when shit got hazy. As I walked into the house, an overwhelming smell of stale beer stung my nostrils, and I looked around in amazement at all the broken glass, food wrappers and wall stains. This house was the evidence of a bunch of dudes living together and enjoying themselves pretty well. F*ck that, it was evidence of 30 dudes living together and not giving a flying fuck and non-stop partying in the highest form. It was immediately infectious. Just being in there was making me want to slam a beer and punch a hole in the wall. And that was just the main floor lobby.
They led me upstairs to the dorm rooms, and not for one second was I hesitant. My one rule travelling is to not allow myself to be outnumbered by dudes, as it would only take a second for one to distract me, another to take my shit, and another to sucker me.These guys were legit, and I think just more apprehensive of me, a strange kid telling them he hitchhikes. Around ze planet.
They took me to the floor most of them lived on, and the smell of stale beer and burger wrappers only doubled. The paint on the walls looked like it had endured a riot, and there was garbage littering the floor everywhere. Used condoms and crusty scraps mixed with stale air and and beer puddles let me know I have missed evenings of mayhem. I get a quick jolt of excitement when I try to picture what goes down here on a regular basis, knowing that if these walls could talk......
Im led into a bedroom where a bunch of them are playing video games and talking about the latest hookups. Im introduced, and told to tell my story. They're all super cool with it, and a few were inspired. I knew I was still a hitchhiker showing up asking a favour, but once we got talking, they all opened up, I felt totally at ease, and the jokes started coming out. Most of them were curious, asking about me, and what I do, why and how. It was a pretty foreign concept to them to see some dude who's hitchhiking around the world with no plans, money or stability. It was obvious alot, if not all came from affluent families, as the flatscreen TVs, piles of beer cans and nice clothes made it pretty clear. After about half an hour of story telling and question answering, they realized I was a "legit dude" and that I wasnt going to screw them over. They then offered me some microwavable dinners, laundry and a shower. I was stoked to have gained their trust, as they were really cool dudes.

If I said to close your eyes, picture the typical American Frat house and the boys in them, they were it. To a friggen T. Ragging on each other, College team sweaters, clean shaven faces, talking about who they were gonna hook up with that night, and worrying about the booze supply. I loved every minute of it. As much as I may have been a culture shock to them, their reality to me was as foreign as a cowboy in Siberia. Frats don't exist in Canada, and I think everyone wonders what its actually like in them.
Well my friends, Im going to tell you, because I stayed with them the next 3 days and experienced a window into the life of a Fraternity. Not just any, TKE styles, son.

____________

After the initial intros, there was Oswald one of the house leaders, Matt the baseball player and Scrapper the pass out, Davidson, the hilarious Tonk, soccer kickin Brydges, Squid, Berger, Duncan the karate kid, Spross, Chris, Moyer, Steinstra and Zac(a pledge-which I will talk about later) Travis-the only one with a girlfriend on campus, Whitehouse the football player, Frankie, Keyack the joker, Shatner the Jersey kid, Ernie, Daddy the house OG, Mik, Pauly and if im forgetting anyone, my apologies.
They were all pretty down with the idea of a random dude from el norte crashing with them, and although I wasnt worried about them robbing me, or messing with me-they easily could have, I think they were still slightly apprehensive, but I couldnt blame them, it was more random than a hitchhiker showing up at the doorstep. Waaaait a minute....
So Tonk was super cool, and got me sorted to take a shower, tossing me shaving kit, a towel and the smelly gels to get the stench of foot sweat and B.O. out. The bathroom was hilarious. Doors to the stalls had been knocked off, and the smell of stale beer, vomit and peepee had that place on lockdown. Toilets are seldom flushed, as if the deep yellow abyss is some sort of trophy. Of laziness.
The hot water was the bees knees, and I got myself feeling fresh and clean.
Tonk is the man, and one of the guys I will be keeping in touch with after this trip. He tossed me a house shirt, and Brydges tossed me a Widener jersey, as he plays Varsity soccer.
I guess while I was scrubbin' me bellybutton word had got out, and although it was a Thursday, they had been off school on snow days all week( I know!) and were off the next day, and down to partay. Even has exams been the next day, the beers still would have been cracked, right boys? Calls were made some foreigner was in town, and it was cause for celebration. They were gonna throw down a jam in my honour and a jam it was. The pledges were made to do a beer run, and the weapon of choice was Nat Lite, or Natural Light. The beer of College in the Mideast, and it goes down like water.
"Are there gonna be girls?" I asked.
"Oh buddy" was the reply, with grins sneaking onto faces. One was on the phone and said "...we got f*ckin' Jude Law here".
"You are so gettin laid tonight man, chicks are gonna eat that shit upppp". Que excitement. I threw on one of my only clean t-shirts, and despite my attempts still looked like I stepped out of Outside magazine. We shot the shit, told some stories, and the boys were cooler than Miles Davis in his prime. I wouldnt normally be down with the Hollister type kid, living on Dad's dollar, but I forgot about all that crap, as these guys knew how to have fun. Id like to think I do too, but in other ways I suppose. As we waited for the expected 60 or so people to show up, we threw on the beats, pounded down a few and went to chill in Daddys room. Daddy is like I mentioned OG. His eyes were Phillies Red all day everyday. He had what kids these days call a 'bong' (shharcasm) and passed it to me. Their styles of smoking is communal, a bowl for the room. Where we come from, you punch that shit, and I smoked almost the whole bowl. Big mistake. It was like a girl in gr9 getting drunk for the first time. I was beyond function. I could barely talk, and moulded into the chair. My hiatus from indulgence kicked my butt. Of course a pile of cute girls show up ten minutes later, and when Ernie introduced me to them, I could mutter out a hello, and that was it. Over the next 20mins, people rolled in by the dozens, and I started the drinking acceleration, as Tonk and Squid kept feeding me beers. I normally have a really low drinking tolerance, and a 6pack has me pretty done in, but I just kept drinking. I snapped out of my little Cheech and Chong lapse and started being social. I threw on my iPod, and the party started. It didnt take long for some of the boys to get pretty tanked, and the girls sqwaking. I had out the video camera, and the footage was too funny. I dont know how or why, but the idea to smash empty bottles over the ol' melon came about, and Moyer decided it would be a good idea. After three unsuccesful attempts, to which he only produced a soft 'ting' when it hit his forehead, Mikey figured he was the man for the job. Lets just say they both ended up on their ass, without breaking the bottles, leaving the 40 kids laughing histerically, chanting and clapping. Glass 1 Forehead 0.
Throughout the night, several sorority girls were introducing themselves, curious and flirting. Im not going to toot my horn, but it was clear the intentions. In a few attempts to grab my attention, they made some amazingly naive and incredibly stupid comments. Like not knowing where Toronto, Ottawa or Haiti was. I would be surprised if they could find their elbows. They werent all like this, but certainly most of them were. Sure they were cute, but goodness me if they werent, they were screwed in the real world. After several more beers, Mik led me with a few others to shotgun one. Snap, chuggle, drop. I was shittered. After my video camera was being tossed around getting some hilarious audio on tape, we went down to a party room and played some beer pong. Shatner is a pong champ and sniped cups all day long. Too bad he has a blowout. In case you dont know what a blowout is, its the gelled haircut made famous by the douches on Jersey Shore and lame Italians everywhere. Shatner was far from lame, a cool guy in fact, just should stop watching that show. After some intoxicating pong, time to hit the dance floor and imagine the TKE house didnt have one. Complete with commercial speakers, amps and mixers, disco ball and black lights, they didnt really need to ever leave, as the bar was in the house. People finally made their way down to the basement, and the liquid inspiration had everyone dancing. Zac was spitting his favourite quote; disregard females, acquire currency, if thats any indication into his mind. Zac was funny, and kept yelling random shit into the camera. Ryan, a really chill dude kept making sure I was always beer in hand, he with Squid, Tonk and most of them actually were good at that.
Back upstairs, drinking continued and there was one little blonde who kept pulling on my t-shirt and repeating my name. She was more annoying than finding out they took the Double Cheeseburger off the value menu at McDonalds.. She pulled me into a corner and just started kissing me. As drunk as I was, I just went with it. It was really weird, because 1)there is such a thing as too much tongue, and 2) the entire floor was chanting my name. I cant complain, as I had spent the previous night in a friggen truck with a totally random dude, and now I had some girl grabbing my belt, but I could have sworn it was her first kiss, and she was one of those, 'thinks shes hotter than she is' type. It just made me appreciate Canadian girls, and although I didnt show it, I was really just missing one back home.
More beers, more cheers, the party kept going. They are relentless, and need a reality show, 'cause the MTV generation would eat that shit up, although I think we would just have a generation of fetal alcohol syndrome babies, so no, maybe they dont need to be on TV.
Tonk is the type who gets a shit eating grin when hammered, Squid the drunk eyes, Moyer loud as f*ck, Mikey pulls out the pranks, Whitehead space cadets, Frankie wheels like Pat Sajak, Shatner gets the head bobbing, Travis pulls out the chants, Chris smashes bottles, Berger stumbles and I grin. Not to mention each and everyone smokes like chimneys. The cigarettes in America suck, although they cost $5 a pack. They couldnt care less about rules, and smoke inside the house, butting and ashing everywhere. I even saw a dude flick is smoke down a girls shirt without her knowing, which had me laughing in tears. The broken glass magically accumulates like snow flurries, and at the end of the night, the house looked like a warzone. If the warzone was both World Wars combined, and dynamite was the weapon of choice.
After waving inebriation goodbye, and welcoming stupor, everyone started to pass out and started to disperse. I wish I had written next day, as Im leaving out so many details due to the cloudyness. I passed out in Scrappys room on the top bunk, and as soon as my head it the pillow, it was game over.

Steak and cheese, cheese and steak.

So here I was; Allentown PA, after expecting to be in NYC, I was further south, and closer to Miami.
Art had just pulled away, and I was left at the truck stop, with B1 and B2 of course. It was almost lunchtime, and I was hungry.
The franchises at this place were typical grease pits, and of course there was a Starbucks.
The entire mid-east had just been dumped on with like 3feet of snow, and there were a bunch of families on their way skiiing for the day and it was evident they were not regulars, wearing jeans and Hollister hoodies. I could just see it;
"Kids, we're going skiing today!"
"Yaaaay!!" as fist pumps went into the air at the breakfast table.
Not a single person failed to give me some weird look, either in confusion, curiosity or plain ignorance. Yes, im quite aware its very unusual for a backpacker to be passing through, especially in February, but I might has well been wearing an orange jumpsuit. I stood at the doors, asking the few people I felt might be succeptable to giving me a ride. No way Jose.
I walked down to the on-ramp, hoping if I stuck out my sign, I would be ok.
Half an hour later, in hunger, and frustration, I gave up and walked back to the food court.
I told myself if I had a full belly, I would be alright.
I walked back in, and tried my luck at a Philly cheesteak joint. The young girl tried to decipher my Mandarin request of a free meal, and then just said "dat woman ovur thurr; she my managah"
I thanked her and made my wait to tha woman in tha sweatah.
I introduced myself, and told her a little nutshell of what I was up to.
She was extremely receptive, but had to run it by her numero uno. A few minutes later she came out with a tall man who introduced himself as Ray. I gave him the same little schpeil and he thought it was awesome.
"Bout tiame we had someone recognizin' this" he said, referring to the lack of courtesy in people.
Ray told Laura to get me whatever I wanted, and I thanked him with a handshake, and let him know the impact of what he was doing. He asked me not to film, and just to enjoy my lunch.
Laura asked me a few questions in interest, and took me to order my lunch. I ordered a plain cheesesteak and small drink. She upgraded the whole meal for me.
It was a massive cheesteak sandwich, greasier than the Jersey Shore cast.
I thanked her again, handed her my card and let her know her open minded kindness is sadly a rarity.
I sat down amongst the stares and started to chow down. I can never bite the hand that feeds, but lets just say I wont be ordering from that place again. The grease soaked through the paper, and I felt my arteries clog instantly. I washed it down with some yummy fruit punch, and it was exactly what I needed. I went outside to bum a cigarette, as it was freezing, and I needed a distraction. While standing in the entranceway, a young scruffy looking man came in, and I asked if he was heading south. He told me only a few exits, but I said Ill take it. Even though it was probably worse than the busy truck centre, I was desperate to change the scenery, as the American mothers glaring at me in fear for their children were starting to get to me. Im not exaggerating; one mother even pulled her kids hand and told him not to look at me.
Andy and I hopped into his older Pathfinder, and took off down the I-95. He asked me what kind of music I like and threw a CD wallet at me and told me to pick one. His metal tastes weren't exactly my tastes, so I picked FooFighters, and popped it in. He told me some stories of his past, and it was a pretty rough upbringing. Girls, money and booze brought him on a high-low adolescent ride and he even spent some time on the streets. Now he works in IT and makes decent money.
He was curious about life in Canada, and then the next question came out; 'y'all guys smoke weed up there?'
"Imagine we didnt" and with that he slyly pulled out a joint from his jacket pocket. He told me to spark it up. How could I refuse such a kind host?
-Yes, Nathan smokes Marijuana. Nathan realizes he probably shouldnt be talking about it while hes trying to establish some sort of professionalism on his travels, but he also never says no, and wants to include every detail of his experiences. Dont hate, appreciate.
Greg and I continued talking about life, girls, the decay of Western Society, and MarioKart. He told me he could take me to a train station nearby that would take me directly into Philadelphia city centre. It was about $5 and he would pay for it. That would be most perfect, and I accepted his kindness. He told me all about the small towns, and what it was like growing up in them. When he left for the big city, he had no money and tried to make it on the streets. He more or less did, with a little help from Mom and Dad. He dropped me off, tossed me a 5er, a pack of gum and told me the direction to take the commuter train. Thanking him I carried on and bought my ticket; a token of his knowledge and experiences of life on the road.
The train attendant didnt even look up from her romance novel as she robotic-ly printed my ticked and slipped it under the window. I bet she wouldnt have even noticed if I didnt pay.
Sitting down waiting for the train, a rough-ish looking woman sat next to me, and asked me a few questions. I could tell times were hard for her, and decided to keep it short and sweet. I told her I was just backpacking the Eastern Seaboard, and she asked why the hell I would want to do that. I couldnt really give her an answer, so I gave her a piece of gum which I think she appreciated more.
The train pulled in. A 4 car commuter rail, silver bullet styles with SEPTA (southeastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority)painted on the side. I showed the man my ticket, and he like so many before gave me that weird stare; the one that read " are you surrious?"
I plunked down, keen on the idea in 30mins I would be in Philly, a completely new city for me. Somewhat bummed I missed NYC, it will always be there, time wont. The train slowly crawled out of the station and started passing through the snowdrifts.
SEPTA

The sights out of the window were similar yet so different to Canadian landscapes. The fresh snow covered every surface in gleaming white powder, yet every surface seemed to be an abandoned building or forgotten warehouse. A few posh homes scattered throughout, the winter scenes were lovely in the trees, yet it didnt last long. The closer to Philly we got, the rougher it got. After one corner, the Philadelphia skyline pentrated the blue altitude and I saw the first glimpse of 'Phila'. Along the tracks, every house was abandonded, gutted and full of crime evidence. Rows and rows of low-income housing lined the tracks and they had been vacated for years.
Typical Philadelphia housing.

We pulled into city limits, and as we passed Temple University, it reminded me of home. uOttawa and Temple had some similarities, and made me ever so slightly homesick, but it soon passed, as the Philly skyline had me excited.
Phila Skyline

We ducked underground, down the SEPTA subway line into the epicentre. As it pulled into Market station, I began to get the new city jitters. My stop was announced, and I grabbed B1 and B2 and headed street level. I was in the heart of the city, with massive skyscrapers surrounding me and busy commuters bussling along. The new city feeling is always fun, and I absorbed it all in like a Sham-wow.

I wandered around a bit, but didnt want to stay long, as hitching in major cities is about as easy as sneaking into the White House(which I will be trying today) and often very illegal. I asked a dude for directions to the I95, and jumped onto the subway. I asked the attendant if I could possibly be let on, as I only had Canadian change, and the full-figured black woman put her hand on her heart, and was possibly the nicest person I had met so far. She hung onto my every word, and when I asked to be let through free of charge she said "but of course shuugah". I wish I got her name, because her kindness was unparalleled. The subway station was littered with crackheads and spun out alcoholics. One woman was just laying on the wet, urine soaked floor screaming at the top of her lungs, and not a single passerby batted an eye. To be honest, even had I had change, I wouldnt have given it to her, she was one of the worst addicts Ive ever seen.
I continued on the subway, and a dude got on, intrigued by my look, began asking me some ridculous questions.
"Have you seen into the wild man?" "Are you that guy?"
Yes. Yes I am that guy, I am a major motion picture film star and I am currently filming a movie about living in the Alaskan wilderness, the set is just in Philadelphia PA.
Im only being sarcastic because he ranked of beer and ignorance.
I got off at Market St and 2nd, a very major intersection and tourist hub of the city. The city was in a panic shovelling the snow off cars and storefronts. It was the 2nd biggest snowfall in their history, and it was as if it was a natural disaster. The National Guard were out doing their thing; helping naive people shovel snow. I had a good laugh inside.
I saw a cute, petite girl having a cigarette outside of a resto bar, and asked her for one. She invited me into the empty bar, where she was getting ready to open up. She asked me my deal, and when I told her, ran to the back, grabbed me a plate of fries and a cold Coke.
"You have to try the fry dip". I did, and it was orgasmic.
We hung out for a bit, shot the shit and talked about life. There was even an English soccer game on TV, which I was uber happy to see. She was tres cool, and asked me what I was going to be doing after work. Giggity. I told her hitchhiking south, and she said too bad. I gave her a hug, my email and said a million thanks, as I headed back into the crisp Philly air.

EPL in Philly? Whaaaaaat.


Walking towards the I95, I began to be a bit worried about getting picked up by a cop. I allow myself one run in per state, as they are only taking my info and not charging me, so it doesnt show up(google!) I hadnt had one yet in PA, but certainly wasnt looking for it.
I walked down the ramp, under the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, past the harbour and airport and posted up on the on-ramp corner, hoping for a ride quick times.
It came. It wasnt more than 20 minutes, and I was ecstatic, as I knew how hard inner-city hitching can be. It's like quantum physics. In the dark.
I had written on the back of my sign "Canada 2 Africa" and I think that was what did it, as Mike was a Kenyan immigrant, of only 2 years. Mike was THE man. He ended is phone conversation and started asking me questions, like "are you crazy?" He was a tall, clean shaven, well dressed man in a Civic. He told me of the hardships from Kenya and how he had struggled to make it in the USA. We drove past the Flyers/Sixers and Eagles stadiums. The Philly skyline in the background, with the major harbour to the right made for a nice scene. Mike and I talked alot about Africa, and what needs to be done. He was an intelligent man, who sadly will probably not reach his potential in this country. Mike dropped me off on his on ramp, and asked to take a picture of me on his phone.
"I will neva forget the crazy whiteboy in da wintah" he said in his thick Kenyan accent as we slapped hands and parted ways.
I was on the south side of Philly, and not in a good spot to hitch. I couldnt walk the interstate to the appropriate ramp, so I got off the highway, trudged through the knee deep snow and crossed the traintracks. Kind of stupid, becuase as I stopped to go peepee, and didnt hear or see the train coming. He didnt see me either, and his horn blast a few feet from me scared the little guy right back inside. Startled, I jumped off the the tracks and it missed me by only about 15 feet. Its not much when the mofo was pounding through at 80km/h. I snapped a photo of what could have been my matchmaker, and could do nothing but laugh it off. A learning experience, and almost a costly one; imagine what the 10,000tonnes of steel would have done to my pretty face.
The rushing iron chain flying past me and my lovely haircut.

I finally made my way to the other ramp, and posted up. I propped the B's up and held out the thumb, shit eating grin and all. Three state troopers drove past me after about 5 minutes, grilled me like a waffle iron and I knew they would be back. I was praying aloud for a ride, as I knew time was limited before the PA Trooper hassle number 1.
Boy was I right. Noone stopped, except for the state trooper not 10 minutes later. I was so pissed I didnt beat them and get a ride out of there. The trooper blurted into his loud speaker for me to stay there, as if I was going to run away with a backpack that weighed as much as I do.(a big risk on the trip; I cannot outrun anyone with my bags, even though I'm like that kid from the Incredibles) He put on his goofy trooper hat and slowly made his way towards me, eyeing me carefully. I again went into happy-go-lucky kid mode and when he asked if I was 'just backpacking' I just said 'yes'. He was young, but more experienced than the rest of the young cops, and I could tell he wasnt going to give me too tough a time. He said someone had complained of a hitcher, and was worried for my safety. He told me it was illegal, but I corrected him stating the on-ramps were ok. He knew this, and told me he still had to remove me due to risk factors. I played the innocent kid role, still hoping he wouldnt interrogte me further and find out I was doing what was exactly eveything American authority would hate to hear. I asked him if he was taking me 'downtown' in my most soft spoken voice. He chuckled and said Ive been watching too many movies. He handcuffed me (policy) and ducked me head into the passenger seat. We drove off and he took me to a nearby campus; Widener University, where he said he would drop me and I could get a metro bus or something.

Im going to end this post now, as what comes next is a ridonkulous, mayhem filled weekend that is going to take me a good couple of hours to regurgitate.
I could not prepare myself for what was to come in the next 48hrs.

___

Im leaving my hostel in Baltimore, hoping to get to DC tonight, where I will continue the story.
Peace out girl scouts.