Florida Man

by Ja'Keris Porter (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find USA

“If this happens again. We’ll have to let you go.” My heart dropped into my feet and the smile I wore faltered. The rest of work was silent. There was an invisible wall between myself and everyone else. This left me with my thoughts where I invariably found myself recounting a similar conversation I’d had before—in Kurdistan, Iraq. Iraqi Kurdistan was a part of a greater cultural and geographical area and a place I found myself in, as a civilian contractor for KBR. It was a great opportunity that I nonetheless managed to screw up after a mere three months excursion. “You will be leaving tonight.” the site manager had said. I remember on the plane ride bemoaning how I’d flushed $70,000 down the drain. Of course, being rich in experience was worth something; I could return home and share with my little cousins what it was like to travel abroad yet, apart of me remembered the words of comedian Dave Chappelle: “I didn’t want to be your hero...I wanted to be rich!” It was like some nightmare I couldn’t escape. That was the feeling I had as I drove through Fernandina Beach. I was in such a funk that I ignored miles of Florida coastline, I ignored the content fishers situated on the bridge to the island, and I ignored the greenery that God had placed there to heal lost souls like myself. All I could think about was how I messed up yet again. Quietly, the voice of Maya Angelou resounded in my mind, “If you don’t like something change it. If you can’t change it. Change your attitude.” So, at the behest of the spectral poet, I took a detour and drove towards American Beach. On the beach, I passed a dead seagull and an affectionate couple; the two images got me thinking about the brevity of life. I plopped down in a random spot and observed the crashing waves of the North Atlantic. I thought about how I was over 6,000 miles away from Egypt, when before in Iraq, I was separated by only 1,200. I decided to read SOS by Amiri Baraka to get my mind off my troubles. In the poems I found a man searching for his identity. He talked about the different masks he wore “...boxer, trucker…” and I could relate. As I read, I began to smell the salt in the air, and the coolness of the ocean allowed my muscles to relax. I began to sketch the beach houses and realized that I would like to live by the water. I drew the couple from earlier and I thought how relationships may not be such a waste of time after all. I spent most of my time just sitting; something I didn’t do often and listened to the seagulls mock us land dwellers. When I came out of my trance I was emboldened. If I was going to be fired, I would make my time here worth it. I gathered my supplies and re-entered my car. I was going to do something spontaneous. So I drove my car, feeling like Sal Paradise from On the Road, and found myself at a museum. As providence would have it there was a free day that day. I entered and spent the next three hours viewing exhibits of Edmund W. Greacen, Jeffrey Drummond, and even the Ancient Egyptians. At one point I fell asleep in a garden with statues made in the image of the Graeco-Roman gods. I was naturally drawn to Hermes, the messenger god, who traveled from Olympus to the Underworld, to Crete to Delphi. When I left I stopped at Old Forester/ Hoptinger. I ordered myself a Vegan Reuben: a locally sourced rye topped with housemade, vegan thousand island dressing, plant-based deli-meat, and vegan smoked Gouda and beer kraut. My drink was an Orange Blossom Pilsner for $7. I got that after sampling a Funky Buddha Seasonal at the bar. The sun was setting when I realized who I was. I realized why all those jobs had failed. It was because, quite simply, I was a free-spirit. I was born to travel. Not be tied down.