No direction home (RNC day 2)

So I hitched a ride to st Paul from the airport yesterday with a nice woman. From the downtown area I could see the streets closed off at the Excel Center. The police presence here makes Denver look like Chucky Cheese. As soon as I got down here I was smack dab in the midst of a huge moving protest, a parade of mega phones costumes and cameras. The buzz around here is three hundred people got arrested for protesting today. Where are they keeping them? Maybe in the Excel Center?

Last night I found myself sitting on a street corner with some local kids. Two had acoustic guitars slung over there boney shoulders playing a catalog that ranged from incubus to doctor dre. Small crowds formed and left but the kid kept playing. If it wasn’t for the cement, huge blockades and the periodical din of sirens in the distance we could have easily been at a beach bon fire living it up.

After some time I realized I had stayed out past the time I could catch the bus I needed. What to do? Thankfully a nice woman offered me a couch at her sister’s home. Times like this in new cities remind me of when I was a kid traveling across country with my father on Amtrak or Greyhound. The healthy fear of unfamiliar streets mixed with the excitement of discovering what’s around the next corner makes life exciting in a new way every time, There’s a cretin freedom with not knowing where you are or where you are going.

This morning as I was walking through rural St. Paul I passed the classic American dream several times. White picked fences, wraparound porches, American flags posted at every door waving proudly at every breeze. Am I really here – I thought. With no particular direction to head in I couldn’t help but feel like a young black Bob Dylan or Huck Finn. I ducked in to some second hand stores, and turned out my empty pockets. Ate breakfast at a cute little Russian themed dinner and ended up in coffee shop just feet from the barricaded downtown area. I wonder what it’s going to be like on the other side of the fences? Another day another adventure.

DON DYLAN-