Record of a Well Worn Pair of Traveling Boots

Traveling to San Antonio for a "professional" conference only brought one thought to mind: 

Good God. How is anyone supposed to pass out business cards that no one reads and then leaves in the hotel for housekeeping to throw away?

To orient myself and to maybe have a wee bit of beer, I stopped in at the 2nd bar I found. I stopped mainly because of the name: Crawdaddies. It looked small, local, and I liked the resonance of a New Orleans reference.

..what I learned was that downstaters are, in general, a cautious bunch. And I can't say I blame them much. We do not live in idyllic times and me, a road dirty monkey that looks the exact opposite of a wide-eyed youth out to see America, doesn't engender much sympathy. 

The short version: I'm probably too ugly to hitchhike.

Full transcript here: https://wellwornbootspodcast.blogspot.com/2020/02/episode-18-part-1-visiting-mother-jones.html

I turned 40 in New York. It was February 2012 and I was almost a month into a year of living on the road, hopping from bus to bus, station to station, and, when I was fortunate, couch to couch. Luckily, I had friends in New York – dear friends from my teaching days who were kind enough to put me up for a few days. Part of the reason I wanted to go to New York during what's arguably one of the least hospitable seasons was because of a not-too-old argument with my ex about the Occupy Movement and wanting to be involved. Full transcript: http://wellwornbootspodcast.blogspot.com/2020/01/episode-17-zuccotti-park.html

Driving through Alabama felt like a cliché; it was all one long stretch of interstate with bill boards advertising the Alabama – the band – fan club, and when I stepped out to buy gas and stretch my legs, the air felt like I was being slapped with hot rag.  Full transcript: https://wellwornbootspodcast.blogspot.com