Not a happy welcome to Miami for me, Mr. Smith #22

From June, 2015

So, in a sudden turn of events, I found myself in Florida, soon on my way to The Big Apple for the foreseeable future – that’s what I thought at least. The extreme heat of Colombia’s Cartagena was prayed for after walking 15 miles (24km) with 90kg on my back in the – somehow – even more scorching sun of Miami. With 12 hours to kill before my early morning up-state bus to Orlando, I spent most of the time sweating out every piece of clothing I own; needing to change every few hours...I spent the early hours of the morning wandering a local Walgreens supermarket – seriously – before I found that the directions for my bus stop were completely wrong. At 6am I spoke to a group of construction workers at a hidden building site and, as ever, the American helpfulness was at its height as the manager printed off a map and explained where I needed to go. So, after an early morning sprint, a forbidden jump onto the terrifying Florida Turnpike expressway (motorway), a stern reprimand by a cop for my illegal walking, and then an hour delay from the bus anyway, I was on my way in a jiffy.

After nearly fainting on another two-mile prohibited expressway stroll in the selfish sun in Orlando, I thought it best to indulge at a Starbucks. I was offered – by yet another helpful native – to use a worker’s phone to request an Uber taxi (I know, I'm sorry). Ready for a comfy sleep on my bus to New York City, I arrived at the bus stop and was told that – despite being there 20 minutes before my pre-paid departure – it was too late for me (and others) to board and it's now full. Frustrated yet polite passengers offered me a ride locally and I bought new tickets to leave for Washington DC instead for the following day.

I spent the night trying to sleep at Orlando Greyhound Bus Station, only to be constantly told by announcements and the security staff not to stretch your body as you must sit upright – mental. On my walk there, I encountered an irritated dog barking ferociously in the night. My heart rushing, I noticed the built-up fence between us and happily walked on, until I realised the gaping hole. At this point I scarpered for my dear life with fearsome gnashers gaining on me. Did I live to tell the tale, you ask? Yes. This reminded me of when Rodney and myself encountered two dogs barking like crazy on our Japan hitchhiking travels. They were not behind a fence, however, and poor Rodders feared for his dear life. I, on the other hand, told him to stop whimpering, to wipe away his tears and they soon backed away. Eager to leave a state where I had done nothing but walk for buses up until this point, I walked to my bus to DC. This was over two hours late; meaning that I would miss the transfer bus in Atlanta. This was when I got a cab directly to the airport and caught the earliest morning plane outta’ there!

With a severe lack of sleep over the previous three nights – I was finally able to get some shut eye in the airport. Until, that is, a man woke me up and said “hey man, we’re gonna’ be filming here, can you move?” Two flights and two trains later I met my cousin for lunch in DC – who we had spent a day with on our road trip – and rushed back to her West Virginia apartment to sleep until her return.

The unexpected turn of events actually worked out better than imagined as I was able to rekindle my relationship with another previously distant cousin. Daytime was spent alone; visiting the overwhelming Arlington Cemetery and War Corps Memorial, as well as the impressive Hirshhorn Museum and other galleries. Evenings were pleasurable at some of the local and the cities’ fine array of bars, including an evening of jazz and sangria in the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. After hours of drinking prosecco and cocktails, the extraordinary happened; we were charged (I say we, but my perfect host very kindly treated me to everything all week!) about a fifth of the bill. Awkwardly, my suddenly shy relative said a large tip is expected instead and she ended up tipping – technically – a whopping 200% – which still worked out cheaper overall! This was repeated in a different bar the following night. I was again aghast at the increasingly large difference in the tipping culture compared to across the pond.

Following a great few days of catch up, a friend I had met two weeks earlier in NYC soon joined me at my cousins apartment for the weekend. We visited the typical tourist sights for her first time in the capital, many of which I had seen on my previous recent visit. Although she was particularly unimpressed with the White House; expecting a larger, more overwhelming home for the second most powerful man in the world, the National Museum of Natural History, the Thomas Jefferson Memorial and the U.S. Botanic Garden proved more successful. I explained that, seeing as in the UK we basically have a door as a symbol of our leader’s home, these palace-like grounds were not too shabby at all. After exploring the city and its bars, I ended a strange and exciting week, and we both headed on a bus back to the greatest city I have ever visited.