Los Angeles to Dallas, Wednesday Jan 14

I wake up early anticipating the drive in LA morning traffic. My GPS estimates that a 20 mile drive will take me 45 minutes; I double that and give myself nearly an hour and a half. It’s 65 degrees at 7:30, and the sun is shining bright. I can see the ocean in the distance now that there’s light, and drive through a sea of strip malls, chain restaurants, and sunglass-ed humans on my way to the freeway. I hit the freeway and immediately know that this commute could prove difficult; traffic is stop-and-go (mostly stop), and my GPS continues to add expected time onto my journey.

The interview starts at 9am, and at 8:45am I am calling the Training Director to let her know that I am a victim of LA motor vehicle sharkery. I leave a message and hope for the best. After parking in the paid garage, I arrive at the interview over 20 minutes late. The Training Director is gracious and jokes that they should warn interns to double their commute time.

After the interview, I travel back to LAX yet again to hop a plane to Dallas Texas. I’ve decided that I will be taking a break from changing in airports for a long while after this process. Still, I am happy to have my car this week to act as storage in between flights. I am able to condense my things down to a backpack and a garment bag for these tiny out-of-state excursions. I am also learning how to pack more efficiently than I ever have before.

I arrive in Dallas at nearly 10pm and again have rented a car. One car rental man warns me that Dallas is full of toll roads that do not accept cash or credit for fees (they operate on a Fastrak-like system, and if rentals run through they, the charge is absurd). He hands me a map a says “good luck.” The second car rental guy attempts to hit on me, but fails miserably.

I set out on the road and notice that Dallas looks like a mini Las Vegas at night from both the plane and the ground (is that a Trump tower?!? It looks like the Emerald City). Frankly, I am not so thrilled to be in Texas, but I try to remain open-minded and allow it to win me over. But when I get to the area where my hotel is, I am surrounded by several Gentlemen’s Clubs, “massage parlors,” and fast food restaurants. This place certainly isn’t winning me over.

In all of my travels, Dallas was the most expensive city for both hotels and car rentals (nearly double the price when compared to other major metropolises). I found a semi-reasonable hotel semi-close to the VA, but now I see why. I’m super hungry and find the one late night Mexican spot that looks acceptable enough to run into and out of, and I’m out of there in a flash.

The hotel parking lot includes several lifted trucks. I check in with the front desk woman, who looks like she’s seen better days. I wonder if she used to work in the industry around here; if so, I’m happy for her that she got out. She’s super sweet and invites me to use the pool if I’d like despite it being after hours. I regret not bringing my suit, but am also looking forward to watching bad reality TV in my room.

I take the elevator up to the third floor with a middle-aged cowboy who kindly lets me off first. It occurs to me that it’s late, we are on the same floor of the hotel, and there is no opening to the main hotel lobby (aka no one to hear me scream if he attacks me). I immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction of him until I hear him enter his room. I then travel back to my own room, which is next-ish to his.

This is the second night in a row I’ve eaten a burrito after 10pm, watched bad TV, and fallen hard asleep in something between a food coma and pure, delirious exhaustion. I’m fine with that.

LAX

This is my "I don't want to leave this weather" face

Dallas from above

Cool artwork in the Love Field airport

Los Angeles to Bedford and Back, Tuesday Jan 13

The flight on Monday left around 10pm and arrived in Boston on Tuesday at 6:10am. I decided to rent a car last minute after figuring out that it was cheaper to do so than to try to cab to and from the airport in Boston (since my interview was in Bedford).

With the interview starting at 8:30, I had just enough time to change into my suit at the airport before heading out for the drive in MA. Bedford is a small suburb about 20 miles from Boston. Driving out of the airport and past the Boston skyline, I’m filled with positive memories from when I visited there over 5 years ago. It had quickly become my favorite city in the US after eating Italian food in the North End and walking the Freedom Trail. It pains me to simply pass through it.

Feeling the jet lag burn

Boston from afar/the car

Bedford is more of the same typical New England: snowy, older houses with no fences, streams running through forested land. The interns tell us later that no one lives there; but if I move here it would be possible to live in Boston and commute in.

I have enough time to freshen up in a local Starbucks, chug some coffee and eat a quick breakfast before going to the 7 hour interview. I’m pretty beat after not sleeping so well on the plane the previous night, and I’m aware that today will be a large test of my endurance in this process.

I leave Bedford around 6pm and get into LA around 9:30pm (losing time during a time change is glorious!). I shuttle back to my car in the Economy Lot at LAX, and head for a short drive to my friend Kristen’s in Redondo Beach. I find a 24 hour Mexican spot along the way and snag what I know will be an amazing Southern California burrito. Kristen’s left the front door open for me (she and her fiancé are working people and are asleep at this hour), and I make myself at home in her spare room. I am grateful for friends who leave the door open for me. I’m arguably even more grateful to have a bed to sleep in this night. I fall hard asleep.

Oakland to Los Angeles, Monday Jan 12

I wake up at 5am following a lovely weekend break from the mental strain of travel and work. I am grateful to have had some time with Howard, my friends, and hiking before heading into what may be the most grueling travel week. The car is stocked with gas and packed with food ready to go. Coffee in hand, I set out to embark on the familiar drive down to LA.

It’s been several years since I’ve done the drive, but it still feels familiar and oddly comforting. I’m happy to have my car as a constant in week of much change. I watch the sunrise over barren Central California and weave through the Grapevine rather seamlessly.

Sunrise on I-5

My old friend the Grapevine

Smogtown, US

I make it to LA in great time, and find the VA which is in downtown. I am instantly reminded why LA and I have never truly meshed: many cars, poor air quality, and strip malls. And strip malls. Still, I’m happy that Starbucks are readily available here after such an early morning and long drive.

I interview, and debrief with my friend Megan from the SFVA for a bit before heading to the airport. Tonight will be perhaps the roughest travel night of the whole ordeal: I will be catching a red eye to Boston, MA, where I will interview for 8 hours and then head straight back to LAX. This is clearly not ideal, but it was the only option for interviewing at 3 very desirable sites.

I head (dread?) to the airport, where I park my car in the Economy Lot and stand waiting for a shuttle in the darkness. I feel a bit uneasy and am happy when the shuttle arrives. Here we go…

Tennessee to California, Friday Jan 9

I have one of the best interviews of my life in Johnson City, Tennessee the next day. I’m focusing this blog on the travel aspects of this process (because who really wants to hear about interviews?), but this one is worth mentioning. Let’s just say that I was greeted by a sweet woman in her 70’s, whose first question to the group of applicants (of course, in heavy Southern accent which is standard here) is “So, who say a black cat this morning?” She goes on to explain that a black cat named Tom roams the first floor of the hospital, “patrolling the crowds,” and that he is the king of this place. I instantly know that I am going to love it here, and it just gets better. The Training Director is a quick witted, stout red head in her 40’s who is an absolute riot. Her opening monologue is about how sadistic the internship process is, and how her goal is to make us feel comfortable and relaxed here. Even the other applicants have a different feeling here. I love every minute of the 6.5 hour interview.

Following the interview, there is time to kill and I have no idea how to get back to the Tri-Cities airport (which I didn’t mention in the last post is the absolute smallest airport I have ever been in). I ask around and find another applicant who is willing to allow me to tag along with her in her rental car until she flies out back to Ohio around the same time I leave. Hanging out with strangers for several hours is always a hit or miss risk, but I end up glad I take this one. Heather is seemingly like my nerdy psychological soul mate. We have so many interests in common, and as we drive around the backwoods of Tennessee (and giggle about how we can’t find any of the four Starbucks Dr. Elder had mentioned existing in the area), we chat about privilege, gender, and how much we loved the interview. I am amazed that someone from an entirely different part of the country has so much in common with me, and I feel instantly connected with her.

Many churches seen on the side of the road

View of Tennessee landscape

We end up hanging out for several hours between the interview and our flight departure, getting a beer in the airport and debriefing more. I find myself hoping that we cross paths again, and maybe even end up on internship together. We part ways without exchanging information, but somehow I sense that I will see Heather again. And if not, I am grateful for the experience of connecting with someone while so far from home, even if only for a little bit.

Virginia to Tennessee, Thursday Jan 8

The previous night was rough. After arriving to Hampton, Virginia at 11:30pm, my hotel keys didn’t work, and then the heater in the room didn’t work so I had to move rooms. The hotel front desk staff tell me they are experiencing a surprise winter storm and one of the coldest days of the year; it was in the 70’s the previous week. At least I know it gets better, I guess. The good news is that the Best Western folks feel so bad for me that they upgrade me to the VIP suite, a two-bedroom room with a full kitchen. The reality of this is that I have a microwave to heat up my week-old-and-several-times-frozen pizza (a life saver, really), and a quiet room away from the parking lot to get an actual 5 hours of sleep or so.

I find the coast in the morning! The hotel is actually situated directly on the ocean, and I have a moment of peace looking at the sun coming up over the Atlantic just before heading out to my interview. I also reap the benefits of the hotel continental breakfast, gathering as much food as possible before the interview. Sleep deprivation does strange things to a person; I feel overall deprived and find myself exhibiting behaviors such as stashing several oranges in my pockets in my anxiety that I will somehow run out of Vitamin C later or something. 

Hampton early morning

snow beach

Icicles

The interview ends around 11:30am, I decide yet again to see what the local area has to offer before setting out for my flight to Johnson City, TN around 3:30pm. I find out quickly that Hampton has little to offer; and I end up returning to the beach for a cold walk along the shore. I am amazed to find remnants of snow and icicles amid the sand; something a California native simple can’t even imagine (I literally did not know that could happen). Still, the beauty of the ocean can not be changed, and this Scorpio (a water sign) feels right at home and at ease next to it. Oceans are familiar and grounding to me; as I spent 5 years in San Diego.

I “Yelp” Hampton’s best seafood joint, and find a tiny diner called 905 Café and Grill. The server is a beautiful local woman who works alone and makes her rounds/personal connections with all of the customers. I am surrounded by military; the place is pretty small, but several service members in uniform (including several females, which makes me smile) eat with loved ones on their lunch breaks. I drink hot chocolate and eat fish tacos. They don’t compare to San Diego fish tacos. I make a sad realization that mostly nothing will ever compare to San Diego fish tacos, catch myself in my privilege, and then try my best to enjoy what I can while I am here. I eavesdrop on the server telling the customers all about her nephews and nieces, and talking with a young girl and her mother who are clearly regulars. I appreciate the sense of small town community.

I get to the Norfolk airport and head to Johnson City, Tennessee, where I plan to meet my friend Alex. Prior to coming on this trip I taped a large map of the US on my wall, and mapped out all of the cities I was travelling to as well as all of the people I knew in the surrounding areas. I was surprised to realize that I knew more people in the area surrounding the Mountain Home, Tennessee VA than big metropolitan areas such as New York City. Alex lives in La Grange, Kentucky, about 5 hours from Johnson City. He and I grew up together (he is literally the person I have known the longest in my life other than my sister- we met when I was about 3 or 4), and ended up in the San Diego area when I went to UCSD and he joined the Marine Corps. While I went to college, Alex was shipped to Iraq twice, where he eventually lost his leg in one of the most brutal battles of the war. He was in his young 20’s.

Being a major source of inspiration in my desire to work with veterans, I find irony in the fact that I am meeting him on my interview pathway. We haven’t seen each other since 2011; but time doesn’t really matter with old friends. Predictably, he still picks me in his giant truck with a bed made for driving four wheelers on to it (I’m surprised he isn’t on a Harley or something, truly), he still has a giant red beard just as I remember. He also still loves beer, and we hit a restaurant in walking distance of the hotel called Charley O’Days, where a woman with a heavy Southern accent who doesn’t fall prey to Alex’ charm serves us beer and fried food. I am surprised to find myself quite relaxed here in the South; but then again, they say the people make the place.

Alex and his truck

Old friends at Charlie O'Days