Lauren Vickers

Day 1 of 70


Day 1 of 70

The first day all on my own in Northern California.

Here I go. I'm so excited to finally be on my own.
100 percent on my own this time.
No mom asking, "When are you going to come see me this week?"
Or boyfriend texting, "What are we doing for dinner?"
Every. Damn. Day.

Okay but I'm sad to leave him as I walk towards security.
That's an unexpected feeling.

Plane ride was... a plane ride.
Shuttle dropped me off at the Airbnb and I immediately felt... not at home.
All organic, gluten-free, cast iron pan kitchen. No TV. No microwave.
Frozen dinners were not in my future.  

Alright so I'll deal with that. It's Sunday. I work tomorrow. I need to go find where I work.

Okay. GPS says get on bus 61.
Getting on bus 61.
Wait why is it going east? I need to go south.
Maybe my signal isn't good. I'll wait a few minutes.
Okay it's still going east.


"Isn't this the 61 to Sausalito?"
"No. This is the 61 to Bolinas."

There are two 61 buses.
One goes east. The other goes south. 
Isn't that just nifty.

"Uhhh... I'm on the wrong bus."
"Okay another stop is in three miles. I'll drop you off there."

"Okay. Here's the stop. Another bus will be back in 10 minutes to take you to Sausalito."

Here I am in Northern California,
Just got dropped off in the middle of the mountains.
With no signs of life and the "promise" of a bus to come in ten minutes.

Alright. This is okay. Everything is fine.
Don't cry.

Thirty minutes go by.
A man in a little red pickup truck drives by for the fourth time.
Each time a little bit slower and staring a little bit longer.

This is it.
This is my end.

An hour goes by.
I Snapchat my friends to say my last goodbyes.

There's a bus.
Wait why isn't it stopping?
Come on this can't be real.
I learned the next day you have to wave at the bus to get it to stop.

I called a Lyft.
Paid $50 to get back to the Airbnb that I hated.
Crawled into bed.

And cried.