An Unexpected Journey - Days 1, 2 - There and Back Again

The Tobacconist, Or There and Back Again

Day 1: An Unexpected Journey

2/7/15

Greenbelt, Maryland

Ottawa, Canada.  Budapest, Hungary.  London, England.  Kingston, Jamaica.  The Beagle Channel.  Greenbelt, Maryland.  Wait, that last location hardly seems a worthy inclusion on that list of world capitals and my first night on the boat to Antarctica.  However, like all of those other locations, it is where I am smoking my 2007 Christmas Pipe.  What am I doing in Greenbelt, Maryland?  Well, like the adventure that brought Bilbo Baggins to Erebor, it was very much “An Unexpected Journey.”

I suppose a full recap of Day 1 would be in order.  It started with a very curious email from my mother, what I would even call a “disaster-level” mistake.  They forgot to pay their reciprocity fee before leaving, and I forgot to remind them.  To her, I imagine she was in a total panic.  My response was to tell her the simplest workaround, get breakfast, and text my former coworker in a way that I knew would crack her up.  “My parents are stuck in an Argentine immigration office, unable to enter the country, and it’s pretty much entirely my fault…”  The response that I got an hour later let me know that the joke was well landed.

Meanwhile, my kinda sorta not really a date for tonight got cancelled.  This is the “brown-eyed girl” I had so excitedly written about in Lincoln.  What had changed?  Objectivism says that shared values and mutual respect are the basis of any relationship.  We had neither.  Further, we had nothing to talk about, no shared interests or hobbies, so I basically did a stand-up comedy routine.  She thought that was hilarious, and she asked if we could see each other again.  I had not yet re-found my Objectivist values, and I was still reeling from my breakup, so I said that we would.  When I woke up the next morning, I was torn if I wanted to see her again.  I had given her my word, and my word is my bond.

By the end of the week, I realized that didn’t want to continue dating, that I could not claim to be an Objectivist if I did so.  I found my values, and I messaged her saying that it would have to be as friends.  “I do not want to be friends.”  Fine by me.  I deleted her from phone and erased our messages.  I made other plans for Saturday, which was supposed to be our second date.  Later in the evening, she apologized for overreacting and said that she still wanted to be friends.  Okay, fine, whatever, I didn’t care.  I told her that she could tag along with me to the movies the next week.  No, she gets too tired during the week.  Could we do Saturday?  Sure.  That Saturday was today.  No, she is not in Greenbelt, Maryland with me.  I messaged her last night, saying that I looked forward to seeing her today.  No, she wasn’t free today.  Could we reschedule?  I invited her to watch the Grammys with me tomorrow.  No, she had plans.  I really didn’t care.  During the week?  How about Thursday?  7 PM.  That worked for both us.

My plan for today was a brilliant one.  I’d do an all-day Hobbit marathon.  Last night, I went on a binge at Best Buy, getting way too many Blu-rays, including the ones I needed for the technical categories for the Oscars.  The third Hobbit movie got nominated for, I think, Sound Mixing, and I was not going to watch that without watching the first two.  I watched the first two movies, along with 6 or 7 pipes.  The third one would be playing in 3D in Times Square at 3:05 PM.  Perfect.  I would be home around 6 PM and either work or watch some more movies.

I had actually a little bit of time before the movie, so I stopped at the cigar shop.  That was when Raymond told me to come to DC with him tonight so that we could go to his grandfather’s birthday party in Maryland tomorrow.  It would really fuck up my schedule for the rest of the weekend, but he basically said to me, “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”  In the end, I decided to go.  I tried to buy my bus ticket as we were walking there, but it was too late.  Fortunately, they took cash on the bus.  As we drove, we watched How to Train Your Dragon, the original and 2, the one that will probably win Best Animated Feature.

I was starving, and, like the Dwarves, we needed to eat, drink, and smoke.  Shelly’s Back Room by the White House would allow us to do all three.  It was 2 AM by the time we were done with our meals, our cigars (I had a Colorado Claro and a Siglo II), and our drinks (rye whiskey for me).  After I finished my third drink, I told the “pot” story.  “It is a story that can only be told in all male company, after midnight, with at least three drinks in me.”  All the criteria were met.  It went over quite well.

We walked to the car, talking about how Official all the sites we saw were.  As we drove to Greenbelt, Raymond’s brother (our host for the weekend), told us we were being followed.  Was he serious?  I went along with it, suggesting ways we could lose the guy.  Eventually, we stopped at a gas station (he actually needed gas), and the guy that was “following” us kept going.  I was kind of hungry again, more thirsty, though.  The shop at the gas station was locked, and we had to just look through the window and tell the guy what we wanted.  It has hard to see the full selection.  “What kind of diet sodas do you have?”  He didn’t know.  “Can I come in and look.”  I couldn’t.  “You won’t let me in to see it, and you won’t tell me what you have.  What kind of way is that to make a sale?”  I was ready to walk out in disgust, but Raymond bought me a Diet Pepsi along with whatever he got for himself.

We got to Pete’s apartment, and Raymond, being a frequent reader of my Travelogue, wasted no time in teasing me about the “Greenbelt, Maryland” dateline he knew was coming.  We shot the shit while I rested my eyes for a bit.  I then went outside, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, it being past 4 AM.

Day 2: The Return Journey

2/8/15

New York, New York

While we did not have to fend off any Goblins or Orcs or sneak into a Dragon’s lair, we wound up spending most of our time much the same way Bilbo and his company of Dwarves did: eating, drinking, and smoking (usually at the same time), sleeping, and travelling.  The return journey was quite unadventurous, though we shared in quite a few adventures that brought us to our bus back to New York.  Around 11 AM I was woken by a dog that would not stop licking my face.  It went on for quite some time before his owner called him off.  The owner, my friend’s brother’s roommate was from Australia.  Raymond said that Australia was the one place I hadn’t visited.  “And Africa,” I added.  “Well, now you can cross Greenbelt, Maryland off your checklist.”  It was a joke that he had his brother repeated quite a few times.

We quickly got ready and headed out to brunch in DC.  Again, we just wanted a place where we could eat, drink, and smoke.  Our bus was going to be at 715 H St NW, so went to H Street and 7^th Street in search of our brunch place.  A German restaurant with outdoor seating did the trick.  Raymond considered ordering a strawberry omelet and a bran muffin.  “That’s one option,” I deadpanned, “Or you could order a man’s breakfast.”  I go the King’s feast.  It consisted of eggs, potatoes, fried pork.  We all got beers to go with our meal.  I lit up an E.P. Carrillo, Raymond a Santana, his brother a pipe.  When Raymond ordered his strawberry omelet, the waiter said that he had never seen anyone order it before.  Raymond changed his order.  He also opted out of the bran muffin since it had raisins, getting a blueberry muffin instead.

My beer was Gaffel Kolsch, the first beer I had ever drank in Europe.  With my first sip, I was transported back two years and the houses transformed themselves to the Cologne Cathedral in my mind’s eye.  They brought the food, and it truly was a feast fit for Dwarves.  They did not bring Raymond’s muffin.  As we ate, they kept promising to bring Raymond his muffin.  Pete thought the waiter was pranking us and that he was not going to be getting a muffin.  In the end, he was almost right.  The waiter finally came back and said that all they had were bran and apple muffins, both of which had raisins.  He explained that they own the coffee shop next door and that that was where they get their muffins, so they were usually almost sold out by noon.  I asked how the coffee was next door.  He said I would get better coffee across the street and that they had donuts there, too.  Perfect.  I still had some cigar left, so I would enjoy the coffee with the rest of my cigar.

We walked by the coffee shop owned by the restaurant, and I looked in the window.  Raymond asked if they had blueberry muffins.  I said that they did.  We all cracked up.  I asked if we should go in and get one.  No, he wanted to do the donuts.  We did just that, a much better choice.  Pete drove us to 7^th Street, and we said our goodbyes.  I lit up a Partagas, figuring that I could finish it in the 40 minutes we had before our bus left.  We went to the address marked 715.  It certainly didn’t look like a place to catch a bus to New York.  I had the cigar, so I told Raymond to go and ask if there was a bus there, while I double checked the address on my phone.

Almost simultaneously we learned our mistake.  We were at 715 H Street NE.  The bus was at 715 H Street NW, a mile and a half away, too far to walk and still make our bus.  We need to take a cab.  I did not want to ditch my cigar, so I opened the window and held my had with the cigar out the window.  This was definitely where to catch the bus.  We had to go inside to get our boarding passes.  Well, needless to say, I was not able to finish my cigar, and I lamented having to throw out half of a Cuban.  Raymond told me that I needed to put this in my blog, and I assured him that I would, along with the muffin saga.

The bus was much more crowded than the one last night.  I sat all the way in the back and did some work while sat in front of me and flirted with the girl next to him.  I also listened to the rest of the Grammy-nominated songs that I wanted to hear before the Ceremony tonight.  My laptop was almost dead and there were no outlets in either of our rows.  Thwarted, I listened to the rest of the music on my phone so that I might have enough battery left to write “The Return Journey.”

After I listened to all the music, I took my computer out and prepared to write my entry, starting with a dateline that included the verbiage “I-95 N.”  Then I saw that we were pulling into a rest plaza.  I was thwarted once more.  I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew that this would really be my last chance to get real food tonight, so I got some Popeye’s, along with a coffee.  While we getting dinner, I noticed that they had blueberry muffins.  I asked Raymond if he wanted one.  No, he was too traumatized by the experience this morning.  There would not be enough battery for a Travelogue entry, hence the New York, New York dateline.

We got back to New York shortly enough, and Raymond walked with me until we got to his friend’s place.  I told him that if I wanted to count another cigar as part of my trip, I would need to light it up before I got home.  One problem, the lighter wasn’t working.  Ever the tobacconist, Raymond fixed the lighter as we walked.  I just thought of something that made me laugh out loud hysterically.  Throughout the Lord of the Rings, whenever Frodo would introduce Sam, he would always refer to him as his gardener.  Likewise, I always refer to Raymond as “my tobacconist.”  While we did not become best friends during our journey like Frodo and Sam did, that title still belonging to my best friend of 20 years, Raymond has certainly become the person I hang out with the most.

We parted ways, and I headed back to my apartment, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish it before the Grammys.  Bilbo’s Unexpected Journey ended with him handing Gandalf a jar of tobacco.  Well, my Unexpected Journey will end with me grabbing a tin of tobacco as the Grammys start.  My tale has come to an end.  Next stop: my long-expected journey to New Mexico, a trip I have been dreaming about for over a decade, but I have once more been thwarted, and it will not play out the way I had been planning.