In reality, no one was glaring or shooting me looks. But I stood out. I didn’t fit in with the dining room of couples on their romantic getaways. I had gotten so caught up in the delight of the bed-and-breakfast (an inn) I’d seen on TV, I forgot to actually picture myself there in that situation. I’d gone from imagining meet-cutes on the front porch, to worrying about making small talk, to now feeling insecure about being the only single person in sight. I eat out alone all the time, and never feel this pang of uncomfortable social anxiety. But in heightened, coupled-off scenarios like weddings, holidays, vacations, and now bed-and-breakfasts, in my own mind, the fact that I am alone becomes the most significant thing about me. Which is why I tend to avoid them.
This fantasy, this projection I was throwing into the dining room was part of the social narrative I had seen forever, one I try to stop reciting. A young-ish single woman alone in a bed-and-breakfast is seen as inherently pathetic—instead of incredibly empowering. A man on my same road trip would be viewed as a cool loner, figuring himself out as he explored the vast roads of our beautiful country. There are no projections about the men, no questions, no pity. As insecure as I can get about this narrative, about what people might be thinking of me, it is drastically overpowered by a sounding alarm I’ve installed that blares: DO NOT GIVE A FUCK!
And if women ever do dare to risk the humiliating experience of eating alone, we better do it right! I remember an episode of Sex and the City where beautiful music swells as we pull back on Samantha, eating by herself in a bustling New York City restaurant. The empowering message we were sold was that she was completely alone without distraction—no book or anything to occupy her attention or keep her company, because those things take away from being truly oneself. She was proudly owning the horrific experience of a meal on one’s own. I get it, when you don’t have something to work on or to read it’s a totally different story, you are completely exposed. But why is that the only way to own your independence? Why is that the brave moment? A man’s self-confidence and independence are never called into question when he’s reading at dinner! Call me crazy, but I usually read…alone? I write alone, I think alone. Just because you have shit to do and want to also eat out at a delicious restaurant while you’re taking care of business, doesn’t mean you aren’t as independent or comfortable with yourself. I say bring your fucking library out with you and own that. Do whatever you want. You don’t have to sit silently, chewing each bite fifty times or whatever you’re supposed to do to digest properly, and stare out into the masses of people interacting with each other to be comfortable with being alone. Now we can pull away slowly as beautiful music swells.
Maybe I had to stay at that bed-and-breakfast to clarify what my personal preferences are, to realize how much I value my privacy, and to get a wake-up call that TV shows are not reality. You’d think I’d know that by now, but the suspension of disbelief can be strong when we are at our weakest. I ended up talking to one of the owners for about an hour as I ate breakfast, a man in his late sixties who owned the B&B with his wife. He told me about his family, stories about how he ended up in Asheville. This was his second life, he started over again with this bed-and-breakfast. He asked me where I was going, and when I said California, he told me all about when he lived there in his early twenties with a bunch of friends, surfing and trying to figure himself out. As he spoke, the old-fashioned wood finishing and the decorative knickknacks became charming again, the coffee was delicious, the keys in my pocket were weirdly massaging an area on my hip that needed it. I’d make the most of this place, and there was a rocking chair with my name on it.
But there weren’t any scones.
ASHEVILLE, NC → MEMPHIS, TN
DRIVE TIME: 7h 43min
THE BIG QUESTIONS
Is it worse to be accidentally walked in on while using a public restroom or to be the one who accidentally walks in on someone else?
If we’re being monitored by the government from satellites, how many people are simultaneously taking selfies? Or rather, taking four or five selfies until they get a good one.
Why does the default song on your phone that plays automatically when you start your car always have to be something that drives you crazy?
Why does the sight of the person you’re in love with, wearing your clothes, feel so deeply good?
Are we living in a computer simulation or what?
At what point are ankles considered cankles? Is there a chart to reference?
What are the new tipping guidelines? How much am I supposed to tip when I’ve ordered something to-go, or just bought something off a shelf? They have those new credit card / chip reader machines that automatically only give you options to tip 15 or 20 percent. Do I have to tip if I’m buying a box of crackers off a shelf? No one helped me with the crackers. Are we just tipping all the time for everything now? No judgment, but just curious if that is the new norm?
Do SAT scores matter now?
What happens to all the cars—there’s got to be a massive amount of discarded and unsold cars somewhere, right?
Do any relationships ever actually last?
Why does the pen they give you to sign the check or the important document never work? Why does it work for them when they take it back and try it themselves?
Why do so many people hate women?
Why do we continue to measure things with our arms, feet, fingers, etc.? There are so many tools now for measuring.
When people arrange stuffed animals in the back of their cars, is it for us, or them?
Is there a point in time when you stop feeling like you’re eighteen?
Will anyone invent a solution that prevents the drawstring within the hood of a hoodie from falling out in the wash, and thus never, ever being able to be put back through the hoodie-hole? Where is our savior? We’re all waiting, patiently.
MEMPHIS SLEEP STUDY
Alarm set on phone: 7:00 a.m.
Do Not Disturb: on
Brainwaves App: Set to—LIGHT RAIN—for 30 minutes
Lights: off
10:04 p.m.
I can’t believe how much it’s raining, I don’t remember ever being in a rainstorm like this, and it’s been going on for hours!
It is nice though, at least from inside.
I forgot about rain and thunder, how nice it can be. It was such a big part of my life as a kid, during the summers at camp it felt like you were a part of the storm, but I guess since I moved to New York, rainstorms have just become a nuisance. Rain in the city is the worst, at least when you’re commuting or going…anywhere. My shoes and socks get soaking wet and the water always kicks up all over the back of my pants.
Does that happen to everyone or maybe it’s just how I walk? I’ve never asked anyone else about this. I have to remember to ask someone. I wonder if the sock thing happens to everyone too, or maybe I’m the only one whose socks slip down under my feet when walking around in rain boots? I always have to readjust. It’s the worst when I’m walking with someone—I hate making people stop because of a shoe or sock issue. I can’t be the only one this happens to! I know I’m not the only one with umbrella issues, the wind blowing them inside out. There’s nothing more embarrassing than an intersection full of strangers watching you cross the street in a storm, trying to flip the umbrella back to its original shape. This does happen to me a lot…I wonder if the statistics are the same for me and other people with regard to umbrellas? I have to look into it.
It’s nice right now though, the rain. This is actually the exact sound my phone is replicating to help me go to sleep. Wait, is this partially my phone? Yes. The phone is making rain sounds. I guess I don’t need the Brainwaves tonight. Like it works anyway.
Maybe because it’s the real thing I’ll be able to go to sleep and stay asleep? Yeah, this is going to work, hundreds of sound machines and apps are made to specifically replicate this natural sound. I’m going to shut my eyes and sleep through the night!
10:22 p.m.
<
br /> This fucking top sheet. How do people sleep when this top sheet is tucked in so tightly? I can’t even fit my feet under here. Why do they always make it so tight? I guess the bed is supposed to look nice and made when you come in, and then it just gets ruined on a daily basis. What a stupid thing to be annoyed about, the top sheet. People are suffering in the world, everywhere, in terrible ways, and I’m in a hotel bed, annoyed at my fucking top sheet. What an asshole.
10:45 p.m.
I have to switch positions. I’ll probably fall asleep on my side. Yeah, definitely my side. I can’t believe I need a fucking pillow next to me to hug, but it’s happening. No one’s here to see it, it’s fine. It does feel better, more comfortable. It’s nice to know it’s here—like if I move, or toss and turn, it’s there, touching my back or my leg, almost like someone’s back or leg would. Ugh, this isn’t a person, it’s a hotel pillow, probably covered in germs and who knows what else! I know what’s happening here, I’m not under the presumption that the pillow is anything more than what it is—just a pillow next to me in bed, comforting me with its touch. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s fine, and okay, and completely normal.
The pillow has become too much of my story. The pillow isn’t significant in my life—this is a random pillow that I will never see again after tonight, and I have no relationship to it. Stop thinking about the pillow and how it’s not a person!
10:52 p.m.
I gotta move.
11:06 p.m.
The West Wing, wow. What a gang. It feels good to watch it now, in this political climate. It’s comforting. Even though that episode was about the characters dealing with the aftermath of an assassination attempt, it’s still a soothing show right now. Allison Janney. Man, she’s great. Such a phenomenal actor, able to straddle comedy and drama, she holds her own with a cast of mostly men. They’re all great though, a true ensemble…I did just hear some crazy thing about Martin Sheen making a documentary about O.J. being innocent…that doesn’t sound like Jed Bartlet, but he’s a fictional character. That can’t be what it’s really like to work at the White House. Surely not now…
11:22 p.m.
Ugh, I have to readjust. Maybe being on my back will be better?
Yeah, like a horizontal tree pose.
Okay, yeah, this is more comfortable.
Rogue fireworks are still going off?? It sucks it was raining too hard to see any earlier, but they had to have canceled the big ceremony? Maybe I missed it? Maybe people just stayed down there on the main drag and stood with their umbrellas watching the fireworks? I doubt it. I made the right call coming back to the hotel. Yeah, there’s no way. Even if people did stay down there—they’d all be gathered around with their umbrellas—you couldn’t even see the sky! Ohh man—that’s hilarious, if there was a crowd gathered for fireworks and everyone had an umbrella. That’s good. I gotta write that down.
Crowd gathers at fireworks display with umbrellas (can’t see sky)
I don’t know why I even wrote that last part. It’s obvious a crowd wouldn’t be able to see the sky with umbrellas—why did I write the explanation of the joke for myself? I should delete it. But then again—maybe I won’t open up that note on my phone for a while—like months or years from now, and when I do I won’t remember what I was talking about. I might not understand my sense of humor whenever I read it next. What if something happens to me, and my loved ones or the person who finds me are looking through my phone and they come across that note? They might need the explanation to get it visually. I wouldn’t want to be dead and for my notes to not make sense. I’m going to leave it.
11:40 p.m.
The fireworks are finally starting to die down. And they sound pretty far away. I guess it’s the night for fireworks, so it makes sense that people really go all out. Even though it feels off to be celebrating our country right now—or at least not by rote—not because we’re told to. The Fourth of July doesn’t feel too good this year. I’m happy it stormed. That feels appropriate. Most of the holidays we have in place are outdated. They need to be completely overhauled. What are we even doing? National holidays just showing up in my calendar on my computer—it’s just like the U2 album. Like, I’m okay. I’ll make this decision on my own, thank you very much.
We should have fireworks displays when things change now, not just to commemorate past events that have been told to us through a patriarchal lens. Not to celebrate quarter-truths and bullshit dates on the calendar. Yeah!
Who are you fucking talking to?
11:54 p.m.
I guess you can just go and buy fireworks and…set them off? I’ve never had the desire to do that. It feels inherently dangerous, and the payoff doesn’t seem worth it. You probably need to stand very close to the firework, and by the time you light it, there’s no way you’d be able to run far enough away to really appreciate the firework in the sky. And I love fireworks—but I wouldn’t want to go through all the trouble of buying them and almost getting my arm blown off, and then not even get the chance to appreciate them. Maybe I’m wrong? Maybe there’s a long rope you light with a match, like an old-timey cartoon, and it travels a distance to set it off? I’d do that, I’d light that rope. Those ropes always provided such suspense.
How were fireworks invented? Probably an accident at first. They must have been reworked over and over again and built to fly straight up and blow up in different ways and be perfectly timed. How many people in the world have the job of engineering fireworks displays? There’s gotta be one in every city, or maybe there are only a few and their designs are used all over the world. Wow, I bet there’s only a few of them. Have I ever met one? I’d like to. I’m gonna look into this when I get up.
Should I write that down?
No. If I was meant to remember trying to meet a fireworks person, I will. I’m going to leave this one up to fate. Me meeting a fireworks engineer.
12:07 a.m.
Too much light is coming from the sliver beneath the bathroom door.
It’s fine.
Just ignore it, it’s not that much light.
Fuck me. Why can’t I just let this go? I wish I was someone who could leave this be.
I can’t. I must get rid of the light.
Okay. I’ve dealt with all the things that were clearly preventing me from sleeping:
I fixed the blinds, I peed and shut the bathroom door so no light comes through.
There’s…yep, no more light seeping in.
I can fall asleep now, it was definitely the sliver of light keeping me up.
Great.
Perfect.
12:18 a.m.
It is nice to have small problems that you can fix immediately, like getting rid of the light coming into the room. Some problems are so big, they take forever to make any progress. Work problems require so many discussions, so many emails back and forth, so many revisions to a script or tweaks to the process, and sometimes they never even get fixed, just sort of talked through. Addressing a personal issue and trying to figure out how to make significant growth can take years! I think?! I hope! It’s nice to be able to make a quick change and solve a problem immediately!
It was just light coming in from the bathroom…Shut. Up!
12:27 a.m.
It’s kinda hot in here now, I have to pull one leg out from under the covers.
It’s crazy how that light coming through the bathroom door bothered me even through my shut eyelids…Maybe I have super-sight? My astigmatism doesn’t change my eyesight that much, but maybe my eyes are shaped in some way that makes them uber-sensitive, able to detect small shifts in light patterns or whatever hard-to-see things are called?!?
Hmm. Are people who have had Lasik more sensitive to light? Lasik really changed the game, eye-wise. I wonder what will be next? Maybe it will be to shape eyeballs in weird ways or something, so we can see farther or through stuff?
12:40 a.m.
Shit, my shoulder again. Maybe it’s bothering me more because I�
��m sitting so much in the car? I should get a massage at some point on this trip. Me trying to massage my own shoulder isn’t doing me any good.
It’s 12:41, great. I have to be up in six hours if I’m going to leave on schedule. I guess it’s my own schedule…No one is holding me to it. But I made the schedule for a reason! I can’t just start abandoning the plan left and right! I’m only on day 4. I made this plan, I should try to stick to it.
I’m gonna fall asleep any minute and it’ll be fine.
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