Couchsurfing, part 3.

Awhile back you may recall some posts about my Courchsurfing adventures.  I never completed the tale of the adventure I had with my college roommate, Lindsay, and the pair of hippie brothers we met up with in North Carolina.


I'm attempting to continue that story now.  I recommend reading up on my last entries which you can find here and here.

Needless to say, Lindsay and I had an unexpectedly enjoyable time with our new North Carolina buddies.  So much so, in fact, that we decided that after our brief trip down to Florida, we'd come back and stop in Asheville again before heading back to Indiana.  We just had to have more of this experience (plus Lindsay was crushin' on Cory at full speed).

We spent a few days in Tampa so we could get the Spring Break sun we were yearning, and had a ball crashing in Lindsay's friend's apartment with her boyfriend, who I accidently kept calling Conrad instead of his real name (don't remember it), and his roommate Chicken Balls (because he kept making these ball-shaped chicken nugget snacks).  I don't really remember much of our Florida trip, probably because a lot of alcohol was involved.  I DO remember being at the Tampa Zoo, and seeing a sign that told us not to molest the alligators.  I was very disappointed because that was definitely on the top of my list of things I wanted to do before I left Florida.  Oh well, can't win 'em all.

Back to North Carolina we went.  One our way back we did stop in Charleston, South Carolina for a night, stayed in a motel, freaked out because we thought we saw a shark in the bay (ended up being a dolphin), and woke up grumpy, sick of the car, and hungry.  But if it's one thing I know about Lindsay and me, is if we get food in our stomachs, our mood changes for the better immediately following consumption.

We got back to the Asheville house after a long day of driving.  Cory and Brandon were packing up.  "We're going camping in an abandoned apple tree farm in the Smokies," they told us.  So before our stuff even had a chance to touch the ground, it went straight from our car to theirs, and we were on the road again.  You can imagine what I thought a drive into the Smoky Mountains would be like: peaceful, serene, calm.  But instead, I found myself listening to some horribly loud techno music with a heavy bass that made my ears throb.  "What is this?!!" I asked.  Brandon continued to shake his head to the music.  Clearly, he didn't hear me.

I lost track of where the car was taking us, and eventually realized that we were driving on a grassy matted-down path that lead to a more open grassy pasture.  Several rows of leafless trees dotted the area, and that was about it.  Except we weren't alone.

As I got out of the car, I saw patches of tents in different corners of the field, some clearly spray painted with psychedelic neon patterns and peace signs.  Brandon and Cory explained to us that this was the site of one of the many open-trade open-music festivals they often attended.  "Is there a festival this weekend?" I asked.  "No," Cory explained.  "This is pre-festival.  There is always a giant bonfire at the festival, and this is the preparation meeting where we gather up a bunch of wood for the bonfire."  I nodded and pretended I understood.

It sure seemed like a festival to me.  Half of the wood we collected ended up going into a giant bonfire for all the people there to PREPARE for the festival bonfire.  As night fell, the ruckus began.  Music came from all areas of the field.  At the main fire, I talked briefly with a middle-aged couple who were both wearing tie-dyed t-shirts, blanket capes, and neon afro wigs.  Another guy was juggling some sticks on fire, while another was putting lighter fluid in his mouth and spitting at great distances.  

Our gang went back and forth between socializing at the main fire and our own, and again got out the banjo and bongos to make a rhythmic pattern of randomness.  Brandon got one with the earth and I listened as he and his housemates had an in depth conversation about the meaning of the universe, its connection with Occam's razor, and an unrelated discussion about whether dogs were innately inside or outside creatures.  

After a night of one heavy conversation after the other, we retired to our tents.  I fell asleep to the sound of crackling flames, the strum of a banjo, and Lindsay giggling away in Cory's tent.  Surprisingly, I was at peace.

That's all I can get out for now folks.  I'll continue soon.  Must go to bed!  It's a school night.

Peace,

Kelly