It was the phrase printed on a man’s sign as he marched through the city.

Jesus Saves.

I was walking downtown to meet a couple of friends for lunch when I spotted the evangelical billboard roaming the streets.

The type font was bold, not handwritten like you would expect, but neatly printed on a sturdy, yellow plastic board roughly 2’x 3’.  The employees at FedEx Office must have helped him choose that color scheme.  They know that large black font on a vibrant yellow background is almost guaranteed to attract attention.

It reminded me of a sign you would find plunged into the soil of someone’s front yard around election time, supporting their favorite local politician.

I’m not big into politics, but there seemed to be more to this Jesus fellow than I could gather from the vagabonds sign.

I found myself repeating the phrase a few times over in my head,

“Jesus saves, Jesus saves… Jesus saves?”

I became intrigued and began to wonder; what exactly does Jesus save?

Is he into animal rights; out on the high seas with the team from Whale Wars saving our marine life?
Is he more focused on the environment; throwing himself in front of bulldozers trying to save trees?
Could he save me 15% or more on my car insurance by helping me switch to Geico?

I had to find answers to these questions; I needed to know more…

I changed course and began to follow this ecclesiastical messenger.

I made sure to stay right around 10 paces behind; I didn’t want him to notice me just yet.  We entered the shared courtyard of adjacent office buildings as we headed toward the free mall shuttles.  He was rather quick on his feet for a relatively heavy set middle-aged man.  He bobbed and weaved between large concrete planters that contained nothing but bare trees.

It felt like he was trying to lose me.

Then again, he could have been drunk, which would have made a lot more sense in this scenario.  Regardless, I remained in pursuit.

His beat up winter coat hung down over his waist just enough to cover the elastic band of his gray sweat pants.  His clothes were not much to look at, but they served their purpose as a means of protection from the elements.  I can relate to that.

We began descending down a long flight of stairs when it happened.

His functional apparel had finally betrayed him… his shoe lace became untied.

He had come to a crossroads.  Unknown to him at this point, only two choices remained: continue walking and potentially avoid my line of questioning or face my inquiry while he ties his shoe.  He chose the latter.

I closed in… 8 paces… 5 paces… 3 paces…

I was poised, ready to open my smart ass mouth and play the role of Devil’s Advocate.  It was all mapped out in my head: pause next to him, look at his sign, then – in a very stern fashion – ask him,

“What exactly does Jesus save?”

As I came up alongside of him ready to speak, he shifted his focus from the laces to me.

Like his shoe, my tongue suddenly became tied.

He gave me a look.

His gaze caught me off guard.  It was like eating a Tootsie pop, getting all the way to the gooey middle, preparing yourself for chocolaty goodness then discovering it was really a blow pop; no Tootsie Roll, just gum.  Do I chew it or spit it out?

Do I proceed with my original plan, or adapt to the current situation?  This was not what I had planned for.  This man looked and smelled totally sober.  His stare was momentarily paralyzing yet sincere, genuine, and nonjudgmental.

He smiled at me and said, “Hi, how is your morning going?”

It was an honest question void of any self righteous undertones.  I was stunned, yet happened to mutter a response, “Great, how is yours?”

“Great,” he said through a big grin. “Have a good rest of your day.”

For some reason I felt compelled to reply with, “Best of luck,” before he made it out of ear shot.  As if I secretly knew something about the adventure he was about to embark upon; the perils of walking through a heavily populated metropolitan area with a sign like that.

Turns out he may have been the one with the secret about my adventure.

From the moment I laid eyes upon his sign I unconsciously set out to challenge his point of view.

I quickly became lost in a misguided notion that this individual could use my help.  Turns out I had misinterpreted the situation; I was the one in need of help.

This complete stranger was following my simple concept better than I was.  He was enjoying the journey while I was ignoring it.

I’m about as big into religion as I am politics, but as I waited at the next stop light, only one thought occupied my mind:

“Holy shit, Jesus really does save.”

He may have just saved me from being a pretentious asshole to a well-intentioned stranger.

Keep drifting.

Even before the buildup and anticipation to what was surely to be an amazing show, I had very lofty expectations for the Tool show that was to be in Reno, Nevada on January 14, 2012.  My last run-in with Maynard, et al was just under 2 years ago in San Francisco at the Bill Graham Civic Center.  Despite my somewhat crazed ideology of incessantly listening to Tool, never once have I experienced a letdown.

For me, Tool is the exception to the rule—I can listen to Tool to satisfy any emotion.  Music can be used to pick you up when you’re feeling down, or heighten your bliss when you’re on Cloud 9.  Normally certain music can only help with one aspect, but for me, Tool can elicit emotion within any state of mind.

When I listen, it is the feeling of being sequestered in a comfortable, yet vulnerable space.

Curtains Up

During this particular show, Tool wowed by playing songs I would have only dreamed of hearing live.

Opening with Hooker with a Penis, and continuing onto Ticks & Leeches, Stinkfist, Pushit, Schism… wow.  It was everything I could have ever imagined and more.

Then something happened.

There was nothing but a soft, rhythmic guitar riff.  An echoing bass line gradually built like a pounding heart set to the beat of a marching drum.  As the intensity of both grew, the crescendo struck with a climatic addition of drums and a forceful electric guitar.

They were playing Lateralus.

I fell into a deep trance of lateral thinking as my mind seamlessly shifted from one thought to the next; Vastus Lateralis.

I swung on the spiral, whilst deeply concentrating on the Fibonacci sequence and imagining the infinite possibilities of everything.  The vastness of the universe put into perspective by juxtaposing it with the paltry existence of humanity.  There is something greater than yourself, and this was proof.  Maynard, Danny, Adam, and Justin all were terrific.  The music was great, the visuals were spectacular, the experience was inexplicable.

Despite this, what occurred after the show was even more spectacular…

An Unexpected Connection

We were back in the hotel when a woman approached my friends and me (most likely to share how great we all thought the concert was since we had our Tool garb on).

*Note: on second examination, she probably just wanted to take a picture of my Nerve Endings Tool shirt, but that is neither here nor there.

We ended up talking not only about how we both appreciate Tool to the maximum, but also discussing fundamental emotions of love, hate, ambivalence, etc.  As normal as that sounds for some people, I am very reserved and typically do not discuss such topics for the sake of sparing people my holistic view on reality and the meaning of life.  When I do converse about such topics it usually involves me playing Devil’s Advocate and arguing unabashedly in a brash, unadulterated style that very few can tolerate.

Contrary to my norm, we clicked on so many levels other than just heightened adoration for Tool that I was dumbfounded.  Me—the walking juxtaposition of intelligence masked through a yearning for normalcy—was speechless for a brief moment.  This was a quest to feel something other than impartial.  Two minds so connected on so many levels; the sheer beauty of her, her thoughts, her aspirations.  I could not stop from staring deeply into her eyes and noticing a reflection of myself.

However, I did not recognize the vessel.

She smiled ever so gently and I could feel myself smile back.  This was not the singularity I usually feel when in discussion with someone else—I felt connected.

After building a rapport for hours on end, I would swear that we had previously met.  We talked about the concert, the beauty of emotions (or the lack thereof on my part), astrophysics, dreams, aspirations, baseball, my need for anonymity, hotlanta, and so on.  What really tugged on the heart strings was the sincerity and compassion she displayed when speaking on the topic of what love feels like.

Without hate, there would be no love.

I have viewed this as a strong duality that becomes blurred through the overuse and haphazard utilization of both words.  This logic was destroyed in watching and listening intently to her speak.  The passion in her voice and the gesticulations employed were perfect.  This was something that could not be faked.

This did more than pique my interest—it somehow transcended the physical into the spiritual.

I couldn’t suppress my feelings any longer; I had to take a chance.

I asked her for a piece of her Tool memorabilia that she kept near and dear to her heart: her necklace.

This necklace obviously meant a great deal to her for some reason.  She told me she had worn it for years.  But before we went our separate ways she obliged in parting with it.

The utter greed of me asking for something that meant so much to her is inexcusable. But her smile, that unforgettable smile, as she took it off her neck to give it to me meant that the emotional journey was not a ruse—she too must have felt the connection when one and one are one.

Ok, the $1,000,000 part is a small fabrication; for now.

But the rest is true.  Come hither and I’ll fill you in…

There Will Be Some Changes In The Coming Months

Due to my recent introspective endeavor chronicled in Opportunity Amongst Uncertainty, I’ve put a large amount of thought into my next step.

After analyzing, underthinking, overthinking, and everything in between, I have decided to take the leap and make HoboDrifter something more.  I can’t tell you exactly what or how this is going to be accomplished, mostly because I don’t have a clue yet, but I can briefly tell you why.

It’s taken me my entire life to find something I’m passionate about.  If you know me, more so than just what you’ve read from my blog, you understand I change my mind a lot.  And I mean a lot.  But I’ve found something that fits my lifestyle, my outlook, my personality… it fits me.

I provide entertainment, insight and inspiration through stories.

And I love it.

I want to spend more time writing, speaking and improving myself so I can provide you all with the best, most thought-provoking, most comical, and most entertaining content you’ve ever read.  It’s what I’ve been put here to do.

So, once I sack up, lace up my high tops and get my shit together I’ll be taking HoboDrifter to a professional level.  More content, more consistency, more value and more opportunity for you to laugh, think and grow.

I hope you’re as excited as I am (you should feel these nips) to up the ante and go big.

I’m making this public declaration in hope that each and every one of you will hold me accountable.  So don’t let me slack.

Be My Guest

In an effort to diversify my content, I’ve been desperately trying to entice my readers to share with me their stories about enjoying the journey.

My persistence has finally paid off…

A good friend of mine sent me a piece about his recent experience at a Tool concert; it’s beautiful.  It’s raw, genuine and from the heart.

If you knew this individual (whose name will remain anonymous by request), you would understand how difficult it was for him to express his thoughts and feelings in a public forum.   He is as intelligent as he is private.  Yet he decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the gusto.  That’s what I’m talking about!

I can’t tell you how much I respect that.  His post will be available to read later this week.

As for you… if the mood ever strikes you, or you get a wild hair up your ass and decide to take a chance by sharing tales of your wild adventures with life, I would be honored to review your piece and share it with the HoboDrifting Nation.

To learn more don’t hesitate to visit our Share Your Story page or send me a message from our Contact page.

I can’t wait to see where this path leads us.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Keep Drifting.