I’m in a cocoon, nestled in my duvet and a thick blanket. Something stirs, and I open my eyes. I can only see the silhouette of a man. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of my SUV, hot steam bellowing out of what looks like a stainless steel travel mug. He takes a sip.
This story is one of my favorites, and the inspiration for my kick ass mountain tattoo.
She furrows her brow for a moment, scribbling down another name on the piece of receipt paper. “Lucy!” she calls excitedly towards the back of the shop. “Where else should she go?”
I’m sitting uneasily on a stool of an unexpectedly cool brewery.
I turn down the radio, and quickly glance between the passenger and driver seat.
“This looks like a good place to stop,” I say to Morrie, turning into the Wawa parking lot. I park, rolling the back windows down a touch. It’s before dusk, and it’s much cooler in Virginia than it was in Wilmington.
It’s hot. My grey tank has become another layer of skin. I run my hand through my short, cropped hair, taking a deep breath as I push forward.
“Matt, smile.” I hold my phone at a different angle, cutting out my face. Tess smiles and Matt glances over. “Let’s do another one,” I say. We try again. Matt’s face is even more awkward. “Matt doesn’t need to be in the picture,” Tess decides.
There are two things I’m not very experienced with. Skiing and West Virginia. So it seems counter-intuitive that this past weekend, I ventured to Snowshoe, West Virginia to ski. With 20+ strangers. (That last part seems more like me.) It’s not that I have anything against West Virginia – I just haven’t spent a significant…
In January 2016, I ventured to Berlin with my little sister for a cold conclusion to the end of my New Years tour. We spent our last couple of days in Europe eating pierogies and unsuccessfully eluding smokers.