CINCINNATI — Columbus, Ohio, is the city outside of Indiana that I’ve visited the very most, both on this trip and anytime else in my life. I’ve been making the drive across I-70 and back for close to 15 years, seeing friends and spending late nights in anime/arcade game conventions alike.

So in lieu of trying to explore the city like it’s brand-new again, I figured I’d pay tribute to Buckeye Land by adapting one of their traditions as my own.

The Ohio State University Marching and Athletic Bands are known for a few signature moves, but perhaps the best known one is spelling out “Ohio” in cursive script, then “dotting the I” with a fourth- or fifth-year sousaphone player as a final flourish.

In lieu of trotting around the hotel with a giant brass instrument (“ladies”) I wanted to offer you a similar late-stage salute, as today marks 29 days (and 2,497.3 miles) on the road — the longest I’ve ever been away from home for any reason). I’d like to tell you what’s on my mind as I’m taking a rest before my final weekend in Cincinnati, likely followed by a good period of downtime in my Bloomington, Ind., bedroom starting Sunday afternoon.

Mental Health

The very first thing I’d like to address in this self-referential post is my mental health, which I’ve spent years and years working on through therapy and caring friends, but still finds itself penetrable to anything between a humid elevator or a harsh argument. Things can add up really fast when you’re on the road.

My mental health dropped to its lowest point when I arrived in Columbia, S.C. about 12 days ago, and for a variety of reasons: It was the furthest rendezvous point from home, about 13 hours away if I wanted to call it quits — that fact alone tends to remind you exactly how high the proverbial tightrope of this trip stands above the comforts of home. It didn’t help that the long drive from Knoxville, Tenn., to Columbia brought sheets of rain the whole time, and I largely found myself discussing Antebellum caste systems, slavery, and domestic terrorism during my time along the east coast.

It was a lot to handle. I’m very thankful for my support system of friends back home. It’s humbling to know that people are still looking after me, more than 4 weeks later.

Yesterday, a close friend of mine texted me to ask if I was lonely. Frankly, yes, there have been plenty of times like that. I even get that feeling at times back home, when everyone else is busy on the weekend or a particularly grueling work schedule isolates me from the people I’d like to see most. But the silver lining here is that I’ve been reminded every step of the way just how fortunate I am to have a large amount of friends in Bloomington waiting for me, and a wide swath of acquaintances on the road who have been more than hospitable with my short time in their respective cities.

I won’t lie to you: I’m eager to be home. Cincinnati’s going to be a fun nightcap on the whole road trip shebang, but the very idea of cuddling up with my Maine Coon cat in bed and spending the day working around the house sounds refreshing instead of a daily obligation. Although I set off on this journey as a writing trip, it’s been a pleasure to reap that inverse feeling of vacation during this whole process — absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Oh, speaking of which…

Writing

This trip, in my editorial opinion, has been a massive success in terms of what I use it for most: to get back to writing.

Since I launched this website on June 21, and announced the road trip on June 23, I have made THIRTY posts (not including this one) of my own authentic voice and writing style. After this post, I’ll have barfed out more than 43,000 words. Most academics (screw ’em) will tell you that anything over 40,000 words constitutes as a “novel,” so it is a related treat to be able to see, with my own eyes and fingers, that I’m capable of writing a book in a month, if I really wanted to.

(Given, it might also require burning close to 3,000 miles of gasoline to find the sorts of stories and perspectives I have wrangled up, but it’s impossible to put a price on hitting your artistic stride. It’s like I’ve been able to take my heart and soul and wring it into a jar every night — and I’ll be able to come back to it for the rest of my life. I’ll pay that fee every day.)

Forty-thousand words is enough where you can start to sit back and take a look at the mess you’ve made and see exactly what sorts of patterns you’re prone to as a writer: For myself, I think I’ve revived my joy of reviving a news story and finding a local angle that illustrates its real-world context on everyday people.

I’ve also refined my ability to say “fuck!” just the right amount of times to be taken seriously without alienating my audience.

When I get home, I do still plan on writing regularly — not daily. I do appreciate the support and readership from friends and new pals alike as I’ve been on the road, but predictably, the readership dropped off after the first two or three weeks. It’s a lot to keep up with!

I’m not doing this whole thing for views or likes, but I also know that I’ll be capable of putting out more consistently impressive (and engaging) stuff if I take a few days to polish it, as well as giving readers like you a few days to live in your own world without having to swallow a few thousand words from yours truly every day. It’s a two-way street; I just have to figure out the proper speed limit, if you will, for everyone’s comfort, soon enough.

Hall Pass

During this whole expedition, I’ve found two people/groups who were taking advantage of the Graduate’s “Hall Pass” promotion. One was a group of Sears mannequin-looking white college students who I met at the rooftop bar of the Richmond hotel, and another was a solo-traveling black woman named Toya, who walked me through all the places she has been on the trip in the lobby of the Charlottesville, Va., hotel.

Like me, Toya was spending the entire month on the road, taking advantage of as many stops as she could muster. Although she’s from Mississippi (I want to say Oxford or Hattiesburg), Toya started in the northeast and made her way back home — going from Providence, R.I., and New Haven, Conn., then Columbus, Ohio, and over to Charlottesville.

She was going to Knoxville, I was going to Columbus. Having recently been from each location, we gave each other some tips (“check out the pedestrian mall in Knoxville” / “the Short North can’t be beat!”) and parted ways.

I’m enjoying catching up with old friends and making new pals alike on this trip. It was refreshing, however, to meet at least one person who was taking this promotion and stretching it to the limit of fair use.

A few hotels ago (I forget where — was it Knoxville?), I was described by the front staff as being a “superfan,” which I feel compelled to remind everyone is not really true. I like the Graduate chain. I love their Hall Pass promotion. I’m not entirely sure that I’d always upgrade to their locations if a cheaper, standard economy room is available in a competitive location. But I have enjoyed the process of hunting out the unique easter-egg references in every room and checking out each city from a front row spot — I suppose that I’m more attracted to the things outside the hotel than the things inside the hotel. It just feels nice to spend my downtime in a quaint little home base, though.

Oh, and the swag bags. I have so much Graduate-themed stuff. I may end up giving a lot of it away or donating it to charity, but collecting trinkets has been a neat little bonus. But that’s the Graduate’s choice, not mine — I would have gone on this trip even if I had a robot helping me at check-in and my room came with nothing but a door that locks from the inside.

---

All in all, I’m doing fine. I am road-fatigued, but nothing I can’t handle at this point. I’m in a groove.

I’ll be home before too long, and I’m looking forward to seeing your face.

But until then, it’s Cincinnati time. Let’s make this count.

###

-moose