It was a frigid snowy day in upstate New York. One could argue the Catskills aren’t upstate but the Hudson Valley region. The type of people that make people groan when they say, “but actually…”. For our purpose we’ll say upstate. I hugged my my foster parents and said goodbye. Visited family along the way and ended up in Saint Augustine.

After staying at a Super 8 Hotel off I95, depleting my savings, I thought to myself, “What have I done.” There was absolutely no planning involved and it was all a happy accident. Ewe, pronounced “Eva”, at the front desk told me her friends from from Poland were looking for a roommate. I went with it since at the time I was hemorrhaging money rapidly. I would sleep on a mattress in the living room and enjoy learning about Polish culture and food for a while as I worked day labor doing manual labor shoveling rubble at a construction site. After that I did temp work at a menu factory where they made the check books for restaurants. I learned that I can not work at any factory run by the bell system. Basically a bell goes off everyone goes on break then a bell goes off to tell you you have a minute to be at your station. Its mindless, repetitive, but also fast paced. However this job lead me back to the convenience store business. I applied at a Sprint Gas station connected to a bail bonds office.

Through this job I would find someone who would later be my roommate in a two bedroom apartment. Our love of the Clerks and everything Kevin Smith at the time would be something we’d have in common. In time I would transfer and move up to an Assistant Manager position. Eventually my roommate would go to the army and I would get promote to manager at a store I knew nothing about technologically. The store was never up graded to a modern (at the time) POS system. A separate gas console, separate credit card machine connected to the phone line and an antique Omron register. The hallway to the bathroom was both my office and storage area. Meanwhile when I took over construction was booming at a previous slow location. I worked eighty hours a week on salary believing I was paying my dues.

I got a girlfriend and she moved in and at the time I thought this is the American dream. Sure it wasn’t always perfect but it was home while it lasted. We had cats even though we weren’t allowed and when things fell apart; the landlord wanted to inspect the apartment so I had to move out before I got evicted.

I would move in with a friend out of desperation and no where else to go even though I knew of potential drama going in. I was now working at a different convenience store company that I would work at for almost fifteen years and a hotel as night security. I thought the night security job would be easy Netflix and chill (nothing sexual). Instead I found myself babysitting drunk entitled wedding guest that thought they were doing us a favor by being there to lower our Trip Advisor reviews. After moving into my own space I would quit the hotel and move onto bussing tables. No responsibility and I got paid to work out.

From This point and for the next seven years, I would get comfortable as an assistant manager and have a studio apartment. Everything was secure and comfy. I seriously could have lived like this for the next twenty years. It was all my safe space but now it’s over.

Like twenty years earlier, I decided to burn it down. Okay not really, I left everything on good terms. My job had been my home to me, I developed deep relationships with my coworkers over time. I left my apartment on good terms as well. I left knowing the doors were always open but with the intention to run away not only from these places and people but who I had become. I became a person that could be comfortable doing the same thing everyday for the rest of my life. A resident of an open air prison of my own design. Something had to change. So I quit my job, I moved my apartment into a gravel bike and bike trailer and I left it all behind. This was after twenty years away from home and here’s to the next twenty years.