Fist to Cuffs, Baby

Every so often I go a few rounds with myself – you know, when I just can’t figure my shit out. Choosing the easy and comfortable versus the tough and unknown isn’t always a simple decision – despite my personal ambitions. And like many, more often than not, I have sat out the fight and stuck with the known road, wrapping myself up in my warm and cozy blanket of security. And last week? I had one of those clashes with my inner traveler, calling her out as stagnant and listless, calling on her to GTFO and move the hell on. 

So I made an on-the-fence decision, on the quick like. I had all but decided I was packing up my car and heading south – in fact, the farthest south One can go on the West Coast. I lived in Cabo San Lucas for about a year back in 2017. I had a great group of friends, lived in a lovely community, and successfully worked as a freelance writer in the land of the neverending sun. With the idea of an extended visit in mind, I reached out to my Dad who lives there, looking to crash in his casita. And in the spirit of funding my trip, I contacted several of the mags and rags I wrote for to let them know I was interested in freelancing for them once again. But was this really what I wanted? Or was this just the easiest thing to do to satiate my movin’ on bug?

After a few days of considering things, I was pushed off that fence I was ambiguously set upon, and into a decision. Dad, having forgotten about the Trixie part of my whole trippin’ thing, called to let me know he had severe allergies, and she couldn’t be in the house. At. All. I was welcome to come, he said, but Miss Trix was not. So, there it was. No Cabo. Sad face. 

You know that Garth Brooks song about thanking the big guy in the sky for unanswered prayers? This is one of those times. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Cabo was a safe place for me- like another home, and easy in that I had things in place before I even landed in town. I wanted to go because I was – again – afraid to move forward. And, by the way, if you’re not a GB fan, may I say to you wtf ever. And if you’re not a God fan, a.) I respect your right to believe in whatever or whomever the hell you want to, and 2.) totally not my business anyway.

Many friends have asked why I’m checking out of San Diego, and that’s a fair question. The sun, the beaches, the friends & family – why would I leave? But the truth is, I’m just not ready to drop anchor and stop trippin’ – I’ve barely started my adventuring. And now I’m eager to move on to some new places I’ve never been.

Who knows if I’ll end up back here – who knows if I’ll end up back in Portland? At this point, it could be anywhere, and there’s still so much I haven’t seen out on the road. One thing in my journey is for certain: I’m not going to Cabo. And while allergies suck the big one, I’m thankful Pop can’t have us and gave me that little push to get out on the road again.  

Leave a Reply