2022 was simultaneously incredibly difficult and rewarding. I began a journey of healing, self exploration, adventure, and education. Before I get into that, I must give you a brief synopsis of how my 2021 ended to provide more context.
In November 2021, my mother passed due to complications from COVID-19. At the same time, a romance blossomed between me and a woman named Tracy from Liberia. This relationship would soon die out as quickly as it blossomed two months later, in early January. As a result, I was grieving and dealing with heartbreak at the same time. I began having frequent panic attacks. Shortness of breath, muscle spasms, loss of consciousness, and an inability to walk without falling became common in my life. I was struggling to cope. The loneliness of living by myself exacerbated my pain. I had a conversation with my dad where he stressed the need to protect my mental health. I knew I had to make a decision to maintain my sanity. This was when I decided to go on a road trip around the country. I planned to generate income using Lyft, Uber Eats, Shipt, and other gig economy apps. This is where the real story begins.
New Haven, CT
The first stop on my journey was New Haven, Connecticut. You’re probably wondering why I would head north in January. The simple answer to that question is that cold climates are not a deterrent for me. I much prefer it over blistering heat. I’ve been to New Haven before, but it felt rushed the last time. I wanted a more relaxed experience this time around. I arrived at my Airbnb, where a friendly Hispanic man greeted me with keys to my room. There was one other guest in the house, but I never saw her my entire time there. I only heard her voice occasionally when she got a phone call. The house was warm, but my room was always cold despite the heat blowing out of vents near the floors. Thankfully my room had a space heater available. I booked my stay for a week but wondered if that was too much time. Was enough happening in Connecticut to warrant staying here for an entire week? My first day of arrival was mainly spent sleeping and binge-watching The Flash on Netflix.
I worked a little the next day and headed to Frank Pepe Pizzeria. One thing about New Haven is that they make incredible pizza. Locals know it as Apizza, which originated with Neapolitan immigrants who settled there. Frank Pepe pioneered the now numerous apizza spots all over this city. As a Queens, New York native, I know good pizza. It was difficult to admit that it was as good and maybe better than New York style pizza.
The following morning I laid in bed staring out the window. It was early Sunday morning, and it hit me that maybe I should attend church. I quickly found one on Google Maps called Vox Church, dressed, and headed there. It was my first time inside a church building in two years. The service was in a rented out theatre downtown. I was 20 minutes late, so I walked in quietly and sat in the back. It was a dark room with hundreds of people seated with their face masks on. The stage was illuminated as the pastor excitedly gave his sermon. The message was so on point with what I was feeling. It felt like the pastor was talking directly to me. I left feeling rejuvenated and ready to tackle the world. I spent the next few days visiting breweries and apizza spots. The vibe in New Haven was incredibly soothing. There’s no heavy traffic, easy parking, and friendly people. I didn’t spend all my time in Connecticut in New Haven.
Hartford, CT
I drove up to the city of Hartford, which was about 30 minutes north. Driving through the city, I spotted a vegan food spot called Fire-N-Spice. I was curious, so I made a sharp turn into the parking lot. I walked into the tiny restaurant and gazed at the menu full of Jamaican foods, all 100% vegan. Reggae music blared from the speakers as the smell of Caribbean spices filled the air. I was salivating at the thought of trying it all. I decided to order the Run Dung and sea moss to drink. It was so good that I briefly considered giving up meat forever. My love of bacon is strong, unfortunately. After lunch, I drove to the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center. I toured the home she lived in and learned about the impact her novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin had on her life and American history regarding slavery. I love that the tour didn’t project an image of her as a perfect being. I understood who she was as a person, her mistakes, and how she learned from them. She was a polarizing and inspiring figure. The next day was my last in Connecticut. I spent that night at The Owl Shop, sipping overpriced but good whiskey as I reminisced on the past week and what was to come.
Portland, ME
My next stop was Portland, Maine. I checked into a hotel called St. John Inn, which had a Victorian, 19th-century style. My room was small but super comfortable. I had a physical key for my room door, which also unlocked my personal bathroom, which was in a separate location nearby. I found out later that this was the oldest running hotel in the Portland area.
There was a massive storm coming through consisting of 2 feet of snow, so I spent my first day inside, where it was warm, dry, and safe. As I laid in bed relaxing while staring at the snow gathering on the window sill, I thought about my mom and how strongly she showed her love to me. I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I sat up on the bed as I gasped for air. I fell to my knees as I continued to struggle. At this point, 30 seconds had passed, and I was sure I was dying. Eventually, I started coughing, and my airways cleared up. I laid back down, and tears began to flow down the side of my face touching my earlobes. I try to hold back so I don’t disturb the other guests since the walls are thin. My crying becomes audibly louder as I turn over and attempt to muffle it with my pillow. Involuntary sounds were coming from my mouth that I’d never made before, and I had no control to stop it. Ten minutes later, I turned over my soaked pillow and fell asleep. I woke up from my nap feeling much better and spent the rest of the night watching movies on Netflix.
The next day it was time to explore. The snow plows have mostly cleared the roads of snow, but black ice still lined the streets and sidewalks. Every move, whether driving or walking, had to be done with extreme caution. My first stop was the Portland Head Light. This is the oldest lighthouse in Maine. It was situated along a rocky bay. I watched as saltwater hit the rocks capped with snow. I enjoyed the view for as long as possible, trying to withstand the growing numbness in my toes and fingertips due to the subzero temperature. I then power walked to my car, anxious to feel warmth again. Once inside my car, I took my gloves off and noticed my fingers were swelling and had a painful, burning sensation. This eventually subsided in a matter of minutes. I was hungry and done with being outside, so I drove to Eventide Oyster Company. I ordered a dozen oysters and picked two sauces to eat them with, one tangy and the other sweet. As I ate, I befriended two couples sitting near me. I learned a snippet of what life is like living in Maine, and they gave me pertinent tips on eateries and breweries in the area. For the entirety of my trip, eating was difficult because of the sensitivity I was experiencing on one side of my mouth to cold or hot foods. I couldn’t deal with it anymore, so I visited a local dentist. Turns out, one of my fillings had fallen out. It would cost me almost $600 to replace it. I was annoyed by the unexpected expense but relieved I could consume food normally again. I spent the next couple of days eating seafood and drinking craft beer. Now, it was time to head south. The next stop was Providence, Rhode Island.
Providence, RI
Providence wasn’t part of my original plan, but it was close enough that I felt it was worth a visit for a few days. My only memory of this state was going there with my parents every summer as a kid, not knowing why we were there. It would be my first time in the state as an adult. The majority of the activities I wanted to do were closed because of the pandemic, so I mostly did Lyft rides. Most of the people I picked up were college-aged students. Most were drunk and friendly. One cool and unique thing about Providence was the John Brown House. John Brown was an abolitionist who led slave revolts. Learning about his heroic life was the highlight of my time in this city. It was time to keep moving.
Baltimore, MD
My next stop would be Baltimore, Maryland. I continued my trend of visiting the homes of significant figures in American history and stopped at the home of Edgar Allen Poe. This is where I learned he married his 13-year-old cousin. I couldn’t tell you any other details about his life or poetry, but this fact stood out. The hunger pains were coming on strong, so I headed to Lexington Market. I made it a priority to try Maryland crab cakes, and this was my moment. As I entered the indoor market, the smell of fresh fish filled my nostrils. I walked through a maze of dozens of booths, each lined with various seafood. There were no crowds, so I had ample time to choose what I wanted. I decided on crab cakes at Faidley’s. The texture and taste were perfect and exactly what I imagined. I spent the rest of the day doing Uber Eats deliveries around the city.
The following day would consist of more learning and adventure. This included walking through Graffiti Alley and touring warships and submarines. Later, I headed to a restaurant called Wacky Waffles Cafe, as recommended by a food blogger page I came across on Twitter. The owner happily greeted me as I walked in and offered me a menu. It was overwhelming as everything looked delicious, but I ultimately decided on the strawberry shortcake waffles. I walked into the adjacent room of the restaurant and sat waiting for my meal to be prepared. As I patiently waited, I admired the colorful paintings lining all corners of the wall. I got so lost in them that I forgot that I was hungry. Minutes later, my food arrived, and I was elated. As I consumed the best tasting waffles of my life, I conversed with the restaurant owner Devon. He was a friendly guy and clearly talented in the kitchen. I learned this was a fairly new business venture for him as we talked. Seeing a black business owner thrive filled me with joy, and I was delighted to support it. Devon invited me to a Valentine’s Day event at his restaurant in a few days, so I marked it on my calendar before continuing my exploration of Baltimore. While wandering, I ended up at a bar called Tin Roof. By this time, it’s already almost midnight. As I entered the bar, it was considerably livelier than I expected. It was a massive room with tables and chairs strewn throughout. There were drunk people on the illuminated stage singing karaoke songs enthusiastically off-key. Waitstaff moved frantically about serving the hundreds of patrons. I sat at the bar, where I ordered wings and drinks as I continued to take it all in.
The following day would be spent engaging in one of my favorite activities, drinking craft beer. This particular brewery was in what used to be a church, making its name, Ministry of Brewing, self-explanatory. The architecture alone had me in awe. There were high ceilings and dozens of tall white pillars lined symmetrically with a straight pathway to stainless steel tanks toward the front of the church. I ordered two flights, each with four 4 oz pours. I found a spot by myself where I could people watch while admiring the beauty of the building. It felt like the room was spinning as I drank, but I was in a great mood. I can’t say I’ve ever been drunk in a church until this moment, but I had no regrets. I then sobered up and called it a night.
The next day was more fun activities, but I wasn’t alone this time. It was the day of Devon’s Valentine’s Day event. It was a crowded room, and all the attendees seemed to know each other. I felt out of place, so I sat awkwardly by myself and sang along to the 90s R&B playing from the speaker system. This was when a woman sitting nearby waved me over to join her at her table. She introduced me to the four other people at the table. We ate, conversed, and got to know each other better. The Super Bowl was happening later that day, Rams vs. Bengals, so they invited me to join them at a bar to watch it, along with Devon. I couldn’t think of a better way to end my night watching the biggest American event of the year with new friends.
I was having the time of my life in Baltimore, but my joy would soon come to an abrupt end. The following day, as I was driving, my dad called and told me that my grandfather had passed. He was sick in the hospital with pneumonia and died soon after they put him on a ventilator. It was sudden and unexpected. I pulled my car over and sobbed uncontrollably. I now had to mourn two sudden deaths in my family, both of which died similarly. Minutes later, I drove to a Mexican bar called Nacho Mama’s to take my mind off the devastating news. As expected, the bar had a similar decor to a typical food spot south of the U.S. border, except for one thing. There were images of Elvis Presley everywhere, including a statue when you first entered. It was confusing, but I didn’t care enough to ask about it. As I sat at the bar, a friendly drunk man began talking to me, rambling about nonsense. I pretended to laugh at his jokes while sipping on my strawberry margarita to mask my sadness. Soon after, my seafood quesadilla arrived. I’ve never been injected with morphine before, but what I experienced when that flavor hit my taste buds is how I imagined that sensation. I spent the next few days eating my way through Baltimore before heading to the next stop on my journey. Three hours of driving later, I arrived in Richmond, VA.
Richmond, VA
Unbeknownst to me, Virginia would be the most educational and year altering experience of my trip thus far. The first thing I did was head to Pipeline Trail. The trail is a metal catwalk resting on a massive pipe. Below the pipe is a rapidly flowing river with city views. Above the catwalk is what appears to be a railroad system. I sat on the catwalk, watching the sunset and people in canoes navigating through the rough waters. It was mostly quiet and peaceful. As the sun went down, the outside temperature dropped precipitously. Feeling cold and hungry, I drove to a nearby spot called Bottoms Up Pizza for food and called it a night.
The following morning, things were off to a slow start. I spent hours in bed depressed and struggled to get out of bed. By sheer willpower, I mustered up enough energy to make it outside by mid afternoon. I walked across a drawbridge to make it to Belle’s Island. Once on the island, I came across a large swath of land with nothing on it besides grass and an abandoned building. A plaque embedded in a rock stated that this land was used as a prison for captured Union soldiers during the Civil War. I continued along the path until I came to a river. Along the river were several other plaques giving a history of the land. This river was a significant food source for Native Americans. This is where they came to fish before being forced out by colonizers. I found a spot to relax on a large rock slightly away from the shore. I laid down, using my backpack as a pillow, as I tried to re-enact the historically significant occurrences on this strip of land. I was mostly alone, so the only audible noise was the river moving around me. I used that time to talk to God, and a peace came over me. This is when I realized the genuinely therapeutic powers of simply being in nature.
I spent the next few days visiting other historical sites and craft breweries. One of these sites was The Maggie Walker House. I didn’t know who this woman was until that day, but she was the first black woman to charter a bank and serve as a bank president. As I explored her house, I thought how unbelievable it was that a woman who positively changed the landscape for black business and inspired other women to go into business was unknown to me. I was never taught about her in school. Later that day, I visited Stone Brewing. I’ve been drinking beer from this brewery for years and was excited to see it in person. It did not disappoint. As I sipped my beer, I communicated with a woman named Hannah through the Couchsurfing app. We’d tried to connect for days, but the timing wasn’t working.
We met that night at a restaurant called Havana ’59. It was a fun little Cuban spot with great food and mojitos. Eating at a Cuban place sparked a conversation about my trip to the island and travel in general. We talked travel, Lindy Hop, and craft beer. All of which we shared a common interest in. I was nervous about the initial meeting, but the conversation flowed so well that it helped to ameliorate my fears. After dinner and drinks, we spent a couple of hours walking around the city as she led the way. The last spot she took us to would take us up a steep hill. It seemed to be 2 miles long at least. She was moving at a rapid pace while I struggled to keep up. My legs felt like it was on fire, and my heart was racing. She was completely unbothered and talked casually the entire time. She clearly runs marathons for fun because I was the only one hurting. We had a nighttime view of the Richmond skyline when we reached the top. It was my last day in Richmond, and I couldn’t think of a better way to end my time. It was time to head two hours south to Norfolk.
Norfolk, VA
My first day in Norfolk was quiet and uneventful, but that wouldn’t last long. I checked into my Airbnb and spent the day relaxing and watching movies on Netflix. The next day, my host informed me that a group of teenagers had been rummaging through unlocked cars the previous night. I couldn’t remember if I locked my car, so I frantically ran outside. I opened my car door, and my stuff was scattered everywhere. Thankfully, I didn’t leave anything valuable inside. The only thing missing was the $22 I had in my center console. I was upset at myself for making such a careless mistake. I cleared the mess and decided to go for a drive.
I merged onto the highway and cruised at or near the speed limit. As I was moving, I hadn’t noticed that the traffic ahead of me completely stopped. I drove full speed into the back of the car in front of me. There was smoke billowing both outside and inside my car. All of my airbags deployed. I was in the middle of the road, but my vehicle was immovable from the damage. I was in a daze, still processing all that had transpired seconds earlier. Minutes later, a police car showed up along with a tow truck. The other driver was on the other side of the highway, so I could not communicate with him. His vehicle appeared to have extensive damage on the rear end. Both cars were taken to a secluded lot just off the highway. There, a police report was filed, and insurance information was exchanged. I left my car at the lot and called a Lyft to take me back to my Airbnb.
The following morning, I rented a car. I was glad to be mobile again. The plan was to meet with the insurance adjuster at the parking lot where my car was still parked. When he arrived at the lot and saw my car, he gave me a look like “How are you still alive?”. The only injury I had was a slight soreness in my wrist from the airbag's impact. He informed me that my car was a total loss, so I would need to purchase a new one. I tried to keep a positive attitude, but sadness consumed me. I mourned the loss of the car that I loved so much. I lamented what seemed to be the end of my road trip. I mourned the family members I had lost only weeks prior. I began to wonder if this road trip was a mistake. Maybe I should have found a different way to cope with my pain. I got in my rental and headed straight to Virginia Beach because I didn’t know what else to do. I stood on the empty beach as cold ocean water covered my ankle and receded repeatedly. I stood still as sand moved beneath my feet. This is where I received the peace I was searching for.
I spent the next few days exploring both Norfolk and Virginia Beach before I had to return home. This included visiting Doumar’s, the birthplace of the waffle cone. I enjoyed my ice cream and reflected on all the fun I had thus far. I decided then that this road trip wasn’t over. I finished my ice cream and began my 5-hour journey back to Philadelphia.
I was now in a state of depression with nothing to distract me. I spent the next couple of days eating snacks in my apartment and isolating myself from the world. That same week, I drove to my grandfather’s funeral in Brooklyn, NY. It was a beautiful service that allowed me to reconnect with family I had not seen in decades. Now that the funeral was out of the way, it was time to get a car. I didn’t know what I was getting, but I wanted an electric vehicle. After hours of research, I decided on a Tesla Model 3. It eliminated my need for gas, and maintenance and repairs would be almost nonexistent. I was consumed with excitement. My trip was sure to continue while costing me significantly less than before.
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