The First Day

And so it has begun: on Monday February 3rd I left for Columbia. Some of you may have seen that beforehand I had to do some business with the bank. I told the banker I wanted to prevent fraud alert because I was traveling. She told me she needed to know which states I was traveling through and I told her, "All of them." She thought I was asking a question.

Columbia may seem an odd target for someone living in South Carolina, but I made it a goal to visit every state capitol to ensure I didn't just glide the edge of the, um, less interesting states. I wanted to make sure I went far enough into every state I felt comfortable saying I'd visited. And to prove I'd visited them I thought it would be fun to take pictures of every capitol building to compare them, starting with South Carolina's.

My first view of the building is with a veteran's memorial in front of it. I like my first look of the building, with its large dome-tower-thingy.

We also have a metal palmetto tree. For those unaware, the palmetto tree is South Carolina's state tree. The reason being, during a battle of the Revolution a fort was built out of palmetto trees which was able to resist bombarding British cannonballs. I also find a cannon mount with a plaque expressing the desperate times had during World War II.

After being looked down upon for inspecting the cannon mount by what I'm sure was a passing college student who had no idea how badly I could beat him, I realize I'm facing the SIDE of the building. The front was far more impressive.

And it wouldn't truly be the South Carolina capitol if there wasn't a confederate flag in the front yard.

On the other side of the building (opposite the palmetto) I find an African American Memorial. A neat feature of this memorial is having a rock each from 4 of the areas slaves were taken from: Senegal, Sierra Leone, Ghana, and the Congo

Around back I find what appears to be Bill Murray with facial hair riding a horse.

Leaving Columbia I decide to skip Charlotte. I'd gone the weekend before and the only thing I really had to do was take pictures. I figure that's not worth the time so I head straight for Asheville to visit the Biltmore House...which I find out is already closed at 3:30P. I'd heavily questioned whether I even wanted to go to Biltmore: the price of the ticket (45$) far exceeds the value (basically a museum tour) in my opinion. If I'm paying 45$ for an attraction, there'd better be a roller coaster involved. So rather than stay for the night, I decide to move on. I did however get a picture of what I exclaimed as, "A FANCY ASS MCDONALD'S!"

Another goal of mine is to visit every National Park, so when I arrive at Smoky Mountain National Park after hours, I know I'm staying for the night. This would become one of the worst nights I've ever experienced...

Many of you don't know, but I have a disease. This disease is called sketchiness. Most people would call this a personal problem, but a personal problem is something that can be helped. I can't help my sketchiness: it's a disease. As nice a guy as most people say I am, a great deal of others think I'm a future convict upon first seeing me.

I pull into the Smoky Mountain Visitors Center which has an empty parking lot aside from 2 abandoned National Park vehicles. Looking around the closed center, I realize they have bathrooms that are open over night, making it a perfect place to sleep. I do my best to waste some time around town. You'd be surprised how fast you get bored when you're trying to spend as little money as possible and live in a car. FYI, it doesn't matter if an internet connection is public if the electricity to charge your laptop isn't, hence why I'm just now getting to blog. Finally, I'm ready to sleep and head back to the Visitors Center. I start shifting things around outside my car so I can lean my seat back, and I hear a car pulling in behind me. I already know who it is. I don't need to turn around to know. I know...because I have a disease...a disease called sketchiness. But I do turn around as a patrol car slowly pulls up to me. I give him a big friendly wave and start stretching my back while walking over to some Park posters I'd already read during my first visit. He continues by and lets me be, but I already know what this means: I can't stay here the night. He'll be back. He'll see my car. He'll want to talk to me. Then it'll be, "Sir, what are you doing here?", "Sir, this is private property.", "Sir, what's in the back of the car?" Oh, just everything I need to run to Mexico in case I murder the Park Ranger first thing in the morning, which I'm sure is exactly what you're thinking I'm going to do. I have a disease.

Luckily I had a plan B. There are observation decks attached to the mountain roads. They don't have bathrooms, but they do have woods, and they're more or less public property as far as I know, so it's the best spot to stay. I try finding one and accidentally end up in Gatlinburg. I pull over into a completely empty block where it appears a building was destroyed. The kind of place a drug dealer might park. I don't think anything of it, I just need to get some directions. But of course the cop that turns at the light as I park probably thinks otherwise. He passes me and puts on the brakes. I figure it's probably the same officer who I just saw at the Visitors Center. I think about taking off but I stay. I stay because that's what a normal person would do. I stay because a drug dealer would take off. I stay...because I have a disease. He lets off the brakes and turns off the road. I finally feel safe to leave, so I drive, not knowing what direction I'm going and just go and go and go until I'm sure I'm out of his jurisdiction. I realize I'll only feel safe sleeping at a Rest Area. The nearest one is an hour away. Too bad, because I'm going.

20 minutes into the ride I see a Love's. It's one of those gas stations with huge parking lots for truckers to park and sleep. I decide that'll be a good enough place to stay, so I pull in, park, and sit in the back to get on my computer a little. I start eating one of those huge Walmart sandwiches I bought earlier for dinner. A few minutes later a sheriff and another officer pull in right beside me.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

At first, I'm sure they tracked me on the interstate to talk to me about my loitering ways, because of COURSE that would happen to me. Luckily, they're just there to get fried chicken from the Chester's Chicken inside. I eat some more of my sandwich, think about it a little while, and decide, "Screw it, I'm going to the rest stop." I find one closer than the one on my GPS. I learn something very important this night: NOT all rest areas are on Google Maps. In fact, very few of them are. This rest stop has a security guard, but it's a rest stop, so I shouldn't have any problems sleeping here. My sleeping bag keeps me warm enough but my seat doesn't quite go back far enough to stretch out fully. The night is full of waking up with my knees knocking together. I consider giving up. "If this is the first night, how awful is the whole trip gonna be?" But I persist, in the belief that the first night will be the worst. Things can only get better from here.

7:30A *knock knock knock*
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