You Don't Have to Go Home, But You Can't Stay Here

The next two weeks in Florida would be a whirlwind of changing plans and alternative arrangements.

Everyone seemed to be making their plans leaving me no other choice but to leave as well.  And fast.

I had a week to make up my mind and commit to a plan, which isn’t much time at all when you’re in an unfamiliar country, with no friends or family in the immediate vicinity.

My first thought was that I should head back to that hostel in Florida City.  I could live there for free if I volunteered.  I would stay for 16 days, volunteer, meet lots of interesting travelers, and spend Christmas in Florida.

That didn’t sound so bad.

I called the hostel.  The owner said just swing on by whenever.  I looked into finding transportation there; the Greyhound would take me so far as Miami, but I would need to take Public Transportation from Miami/Cutler Ridge to Florida City… at night, with a 45lb expedition pack and a laptop bag. 

If a young, lone woman, clearly traveling and so out of her comfort zone doesn’t scream¸ “TARGET” then I don’t know what does.

In leaving the hostel I would need to take Public Transit to Miami, transfer to the Greyhound to Fort Lauderdale, and then take a cab from the Greyhound station to the Fort Lauderdale airport.  Again, at night.  And very much alone.

After spending 16 days at the hostel, I would head to New Jersey from Fort Lauderdale, for two weeks, until January 9^th.

I was afraid, but I was willing to do it without letting on, for two reasons:

1)      I thought I had no other options;

2)      If I let on that I was afraid, then others might be afraid for me;

I didn’t want anyone worrying about me.  When I told interested parties of my plans, I made sure to sound excited, fearless, in control, and collected. 

I was terrified someone would catch on, but I began arranging everything for my return to Florida City anyway.  I had the bus prices checked, the Google maps directions printed, I’d notified all interested parties of my plans, and I was going to leave in four days; which I thought was just enough time to get my things together and come to terms with my fear.  Also, I wanted to leave before everyone else did.  I didn’t want to be the last one at the house.

Then, kismet stuck again.

Matt messaged me.  He’d been talking to his mom.  She really didn’t like the idea of me being at a hostel alone, especially at Christmas.  She suggested that I should go there for the Christmas season.  But, I’d already booked my flights, and I couldn’t afford to reschedule them both, and pay for the cost disparity.  I was really nervous about being there for almost a full month.  December 15^th until January 9^th. 

A month is a long time, and when you don’t know a family really well, it’s easy to feel like you’re in the way, like you’re a burden, or just plain out of place.

I considered the option for a while and decided some momentary discomfort while finding my niche in the house would be less of a risk than say, taking Public Transit, by oneself, at night, in Miami.

I began packing, along with the rest of the members of the soon-to-be disbanded household.  The week was crawling by.