How StarCraft Almost Turned Me Into A Hobo

So I was going through old blog posts (ah, memories), and realized that I had promised to tell you about my trip home from California, but never did. Bet you're still on the edge of your seats (or, you know, most likely not)

Since my buddies William and Nate were to return home without me, I had purchased Amtrak tickets home from Fresno to Chicago, then from Chicago to Ann Arbor where I was going to catch a ride home with one of my best friends and his mom.

Let me start with this: Amtrak is the most comfortable way to travel. Not the fastest, not the most convenient, but the most comfortable. It's also amazingly beautiful.

I will never understand people who think this is boring. Never.

Taking the train is a great way to meet people. I sat next to a woman from Seattle who used to work the switchboard in the Navy, then eventually was in counseling. She ended up asking for my e-mail to give to one of her grandsons. Whilst I'm glad my grandmother and mother don't do that to me (thank you by the way mom), I thought it was cute and acquiesced (and no, I never got an e-mail either). From Denver I sat next to a woman who ran a small newspaper and was in the arts. She slept most of the trip, but it was nice talking to her when she was awake since we had a shared interest in art.



It's a three day trip from Cali to Chi-town, and Amtrak has to pull over for all the freight trains because they do not have right-of-way. Thus, taking the train means you're usually going to be late. Steadily getting later over a period of three days means I not only missed my train in Chicago, but the last train outta Chicago too. This is where my problem started. You see, at the time, I didn't have a cell phone.

This would have been a technological step up for me at the time

I had no way of contacting my friend to tell him I was going to be late. Amtrak put us on a bus out of Chicago and dropped us all off. I ended up sitting next to a lady going to Jackson, who I told my story to and kindly lent me her phone. I was able to call my friend and let him know I was going to be late.

He didn't pick up.

I kept calling until she got off in Jackson. By this time, the whole bus knew my problem. Another older couple offered me the use of their phone, so I kept calling him. And calling. And calling.

He didn't pick up.

When we got to Ann Arbor, the couple who's phone I was borrowing offered me a ride to his place. Except I didn't know where he lived, so they offered to take me home and let me stay the night. It was 2 am at this point. I politely refused, but let them drive me to gas station where there was a payphone. I should mention at this point I was carrying all my luggage from my three month stay in CA with me at this point, which included a plaid suitcase, an air force stuff sack and a messenger bag. I also hadn't showered in 3 days and was going through my fashion phase where I wore approximately seventy-billion layers of clothing.

The gas station clerk kindly watched my luggage for me as I made phone call after phone call to my friend.

An excuse to use one of my phone booth collection photos? Yes.

He never answered.

I finally ran out of quarters and decided it was time to try something else. Locating the nearest Starbucks, I dragged all of my luggage and sat down on the curb outside and stole their wi-fi. Signing on to an instant messenger client, I had approximately 20 minutes of battery life to try and find him online. As luck would have it, he was logged on. I messaged him.

He never answered.

I e-mailed every single person we both new. By this point, a homeless man was coming down the street towards me on a pair of crutches. He asked me for change, I gave him everything I had left. He started off, but turned around again. (this is the part of the story that it's important to remember my state of hygiene, dress and number of bags I had with me)

"You on the street?" He asked.

"Not yet. I'm trying to get in touch with a friend." I replied.

"You got a place to stay for the night? Do you need anything?"

"I'm still holding out hope that my friend will answer, but thank you."

"Okay. I've got a place. I'll check back in the morning to see if you're still here."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, we gotta stick together, you know?" He said before taking off. A gaggle of frat boys had just come out of a bar and he was intent on making sure they walked in the opposite direction as me. This would be example number 3 in this story of how people are awesome. And a good reason to re-examine your wardrobe decisions.

Guess who still wasn't answering his IMs? Yeah. That guy.

With my laptop battery nearly dead, it was time to try a new tactic. I attempted to look up his address on the U of M website. The one listed was for the spring semester and the summer one had just finished, but it was a place to start. So I hailed a cab, threw my luggage in the trunk and was off to the University's campus. On the way, the cabbie and I made conversation. Since he usually was picking up drunks at this hour, the sober girl with all the luggage was probably an interesting story. So I told him about how the train was late and I had been trying like the dickens to get a hold of my friend. He told me about how when he was young he traveled across the country on a shoe-string budget too, and about his daughter my age. And that my friend needed a good whollup for leaving a girl alone in the middle of Ann Arbor in the wee hours of the morning. We were rounding on 3 am at this point.

Arriving on campus, the dorm address I had gotten from the website lead to a closed dorm. I called campus security, and told them my story. Shortly after, a security officer showed up in a golf cart.

Like this, but actually effective and reassuring.

She let me into the building since it was also pretty cold that night and we went to the office to try and see if we could find a more current address for my friend. We couldn't. She decided they were going to put me up in a hotel for the night, but I insisted on trying to call him one more time.

He picked up.

Breathless and apologizing profusely, he said he had been in the basement where he got no cell reception and playing StarCraft, which is why he wasn't answering his IMs. He was on his way.

There are no words for the relief I felt. None.

There are also no words for the look the security lady gave him when he rode up on his bike. It was not pleasant.

His mom came in the morning and picked us up and I finally made it back home without further incident. But I was almost homeless in Ann Arbor, because of StarCraft.

His team lost too. Figures.