An Update on the Situation (and Pictures from Over the Border!) · 6:49pm Nov 23rd, 2021

I hope the weather isn't too cold wherever you may be! Some love the snow; others mentally take a flamethrower to the sky to halt the ivory assault. Thankfully, it's neither too hot nor too cold where I am. The snow chased Shakes and me from New York, but we escaped the chase sometime over the state.

I've gotten in touch with insurance about the accident. Some things are still a mystery. It seems like getting the car towed back home, because it was close enough to the border, should either be free or cheap enough. I'll have a rental car once I get home. However, there's a chance I might not have it for the full duration of the repairs. It's still unknown if my insurance will go up and, if it does, for how much.

They still have to do an estimate on the car and the damage. Because of Covid, most parts, everywhere, are tough to acquire. It'll be a couple of months before I can put my hand on the hood of Ido in gratitude for it being okay. I'll likely have to pay for the flight back home. That, and make up for missed days at work.

With that being said, however, I'd like to talk to those who donated.

At the time of the accident, with the car not starting, and no Auto Shop within the area able to store or work on the car, I did not know how screwed I would be. Would I be stranded in this town for several days to several weeks? Would I have to sneak and sleep in the car if the hotels were not covered? Insurance is closed on weekends, and my Honda service couldn't do anything.

I wrote extra commissions in a Mcdonalds to ensure that, in case all else failed, I would have a place to stay and eat.

(And apologies to the old lady, who sat behind me, who glanced at my screen, trying to read the porn I was writing!)

The point is I didn't know how bad the situation would be. If insurance would demand that I pay anywhere between 1-2K to have the car transported back. If I would have to stay in the car until I could find a train to an airport and catch a flight home from there. In that great time of unknown, it's thanks to you, all of you, that I didn't end up drifting upside down in a cold, coursing river.

When you go through utter absurdity in a time of great distress, with the past, like dominoes, toppling downward into deepening darkness of the abyss... you wonder if this is it. If this is the final sign from fate that, no, it will not get better. That, if you can, with everything sorted, and no harm to expand from your empty seat... to check out before the show gets worse.

(This is a spoiled way of thinking. Many live worse lives than you and I. Some in terrible spots handle it better and succeed without much help. But one cannot replace reality with a previous fantasy. You can imagine fifty ways you'll handle a situation. But it's only in going through it, however, that you'll learn what you're really like, and what you'll really do.)

But, even though my mind says otherwise, deep inside, I'm happy that, even though the air burns, that I'm still able to take a breath.

It's because of you. All of you. The donations and the good wishes. The check-ins and the assurances of all that will be well—that I, at the very least, could believe that. That, regardless of the cold and the snow, the uncertainty of the coming days and the future after that... that everything would eventually be okay.

This is why, one final time, that for any reason, or for no reason at all, that if you donated, and if you'd like that money back, please, don't hesitate to send me a message with your name. Don't get me wrong. I still don't know all the costs that await me at the end of this. Rent. Missed work. Bills. A rise in insurance. Flights and a rental car after the covered period. Etc.

But none of that is life threatening. I will not starve or go homeless. I'll be wound tight and inching by on what I have, working extra hours and doubling commissions, whatever side gigs there are to score. (And all of it would be temporary)

However, none of that is the reason you donated.

(Although, for some, it could be.)

I can only assume those donations were to ensure that a stranger, in strange lands, would have a buffer of protection to keep him safe. That, if Shakes couldn't make the trip due to his recovering wife, I could stay in a hotel for a couple of days in case insurance decides to assist. At the time, and still, now, I do not know all that is covered.

But I'm safe at his place, fed and washed, and have drunk enough booze to exercise the greater stress of this period. I don't have to worry about food or shelter or a way to the airport. It was because in that unknown time, with your support, I felt cared for enough to be safe in my stranding. Having that buffer, assurance, and knowledge that I could ask for help and actually have people helped allowed me to hike on the side of a road with a sore leg.

So, once again, and for those annoyed at an indulgence of apologies and gratitude, I'll say it for the last time. If you donated to me, for whatever reason, regardless of the amount, if you need that money back, some or all of it, please, please, please, message me your name and the amount: I'll zip it back.

The donation wasn't in vain if you do. It supplied me with warmth, assurance, and buffer, in a very, very stressful time. If it weren't for that, then maybe I would still be here—but I would have been further destroyed in that town, and I wouldn't feel as good as I do now. So, please. Once more. Even after this period, send me a message if you need that money.

If it's a month or so down the line, I might take a bit to get it back, but, without a doubt, you have my word you will have it.

Now then! Since that's taken care of, and these blogs have been stuffy as of late, I would like to end this one on a more positive note. Even though I haven't been able to record much, I still have a few photos from the trip so far.

Even in terribleness...

...there's still a little goodness to be had!
~ Yr. Elevated Pal, B