Down the A1A

***I DON'T MEAN TO MAKE THIS A HABBIT, BUT I WROTE THIS LATE AT NIGHT/EARLY IN THE MORNING. IT HAS NOT YET BEEN PROOFREAD. GO EASY ON ME***

Two weekends ago, I was on Facebook and Twitter. All fucking day long. I could think of nothing in Palatka to do. And the only options that came to mind was spending money that didn't need to be spent on things that didn't need buying. I could get a tattoo, but that's nothing to do on a whim (although I plan on getting it). I could fill my tank and drive to St. Augustine or Orange Park to see a movie I could see in Palatka. Needless to say, by the time I finished deciding, I'd wasted hours online and watching movies with the caliber of Scream 3.

So as a way to both take advantage of my new-found weekends off, and to prevent two weekends' worth of boredom, I decided to have, what Steve Harvey calls, a Wonderful Weekend. I've always talked of taking a road trip, so I figured why not use this weekend to make it happen. It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, so unfortunately it would have to be a solo road trip. But if one can't enjoy oneself alone, how can one truly be happy around others.

I had no idea where my destination lie, but I knew the route. Although I can't swim -- even if it was a means to get to Halle Berry Island -- I have a bizarre love of and appreciation for the beach and the ocean. The sound and force of the waves, the full-body massage given by the wind, the richness of the foliag

e's green, and even the annoyance of the sand lingering to your body even hours after leaving the beach. It seemed like a no-brainer to cruise the pavement along the Atlantic Ocean coast on Florida's A1A. Who cares where I ended, so long as I got to see some sights. But after thinking of a college friend, I settled on Melbourne, Fla. since she always had good things to say about it.

With a limited amount of money to my name, fewer clothes and belongings and a beat up car's tank of gas, I made my way toward St. Augustine and hit the coast. Although going 45 mph for about an hour and a half was about double the time it would have taken on the interstate, the experience was a lot more fulfilling. In the span of 30 seconds, I relived five elementary school grades' worth of field trips when i pass by and took pictures of Marineland. When I passed that spot I think we visited for biology class in 9th grade, I relived how promising life seemed at age 14. I mad a vow to bust my ass as a writer/comedian, earn incredible bank and buy up beach front property after passing expensive house that I can't afford after expensive house I can't afford.

Although it rained intermittently, I made it to Melbourne in one piece. And as soon as I paid for my sub-par, marginally too expensive room, I set off for the beach. The light was fading but I had Eva Mae and I was ready to use her. It's been almost four years since I've used my 35 mm film camera, but I used this weekend an excuse to break out the old girl. The click of the shutter, the winding of the film, the quest for the perfect light. All nuances I had almost forgotten fluttered in my mind like swarm of coked-out butterflies searching for the last bit of pollen. Or whatever butterflies go apeshit over.

And on that note, I can't omit how extremely excited I am about how the pictures will look. The digital age has spoiled us. We've forgotten how it felt to take a roll of photos, drop them off at a photo lab and actually wait two to three days for them to be ready. Forgotten how we didn't know within three second's time how the photo would look. Forgotten that the photo relied solely on our artistic eye and ability with the camera. That once we snapped the photo, it could not be undone. So even tho many of the pictures were taken when the light was low and I had no tripod, or taken while i was driving and

had minimal time to focus, I am literally wet (in the mouth, perverts) with anticipation over the outcome of my photographic endeavors.

On my back home Sunday, I stopped at New Smyrna Beach and relaxed in the sand with a good (so far) book. I figured there was no point in driving up and down the coast without actually stepping foot on it. After getting some sun, and looking at a few big ass turtle, I made my way to St. Augustine to eat good food, watch True Blood and conversed with some great people.

Pulling into my driveway in Palatka at 10 p.m. Sunday, my first thought after "thank you God for not letting me die on the road in Titusville," was that no matter where you go, you always appreciate home when you come back. But as I took the most fantasmic shower I've ever taken, even as my body begged for sleep, my the cogs in my mind began to turn. What will be my next adventure? Although I crossed 2 and a half things off my bucket list by taking this trip, what will I take on next?

Keep an eye out.

B.rand