The Premise

Life experience and made-for-TV movies have taught us what "friendship" means. But what does it mean to be an online friend? I'm putting my social networks to the test by letting them plan my cross-country road trip. The places I stop, where I stay, what I eat - will all be decided by my online network of friends.

The Process

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Flamboyant rednecks & Michigan

I woke up early to the sound of children running frantically on the floor below my bed.  Small feet smacking the ground with the weight of a much louder frame.  I sniffled and opened my mouth to take a breath, my throat raw and scratched.  My family had given me a cold.  I called down to my dad and whined my hypothesis.  I drank down the red liquid he brought me and was comforted by the temporary transport back to my childhood.  I fell back asleep. 

As I put my large bag back into my trunk and reorganized my car, I felt noticeably better.  I was revived with thoughts of fighting off the cold before it hit and began my drive north.  The initial route was familiar and I cursed myself for not remembering how truck-heavy it would be on a weekday.  The honks in my direction were continuous.  Occasionally, I would try to make eye contact with other cars hoping that if my roof was on fire or my tire was gone, they would also notice and honk.  When that never happened, I decided the truck’s intentions were more lewd.  But the pure volume of them had me suspicious.  I began devising theories of truck chatter pertaining to the girl in the odd-colored car.  I wonder what color they called it.  Would they argue about that on their CBs?  I found myself enraged by my presumed objectification over truck-radio at the same time as I was hoping the comments were positive. 

My first stop was at a gas station south of Indianapolis.  I walked straight back to the restroom and opened the stall door.  There was a roll of toilet paper sitting on top of the plastic dispenser and next to it was a silver lock, closing off the additional toilet paper rolls from the possibility of thievery.  As I walked to the register at the front of the store, I took in my surroundings.  Two round men stood between the rack of beef jerky and the adjoining restaurant, neither wearing a shirt although one was mainly covered by denim overalls.  At the same time I noticed them staring at me, our collective attention was turned to a man walking thru the door with a John Deere hat on, wearing inappropriately short cotton shorts and a shirt with the sleeves cut off.  This creepily thin man covered in dirt had found the perfect fashion intersection where flamboyance and rednecks met.  He ignored all of us and went immediately to a row of stools facing the window.  I pre-paid my gas and walked outside, noticing the row of stools at the restaurant swerving to follow my footsteps.  I felt a row of eyes on my back as I took my hand off the gas pump and walked to get the squeegee.  I had driven through a swarm of bugs and desperately needed to clean off my windshield but I was wearing a short sundress and the thought of stretching over my car while on display for a line of creepy gas station men gave me pause.  I knew I had little choice so I attempted to draw the wiper back and forth without moving my body at all.  “I am a statue,” I thought to myself.  “A statue with moveable arms who is cleaning its windshield.”  One really takes for granted the momentum body movement gives you when wiping off a windshield.  My statue-cleaning-personae took forever. 

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 It was late when I got to Grand Rapids and I was tired and starving.  Mark met me in the Visitor Parking area of his swank condominiums and we began catching up as we rode the elevator.  He had to work the next morning but stayed up late anyway filling me in on what he’d been doing over the last ten years.  I ate peanut butter bread and stared out his mesmerizing wall of windows.  When I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, Mark insisted I take his bed, saying he wanted to stay up anyway and watch the end of the game he’d missed.  After a little back-and-forth on the subject, I agreed and said goodnight.  I buried myself under the soft comforter and sunk into the mountain of pillow.  Not too many hours later, the sun filled the room around me but I didn’t care, I slept comfortably until the absolute last available minute.  I hated to leave the plush bed or the bright, open condo but I wanted to do a driving tour of downtown Grand Rapids before making my way east. 

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November 10th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized

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