Ace and Zal’s Pursuit of Happiness: A coast-to-coast report on (almost) post-Trump America

Derek Smith
2 min readNov 9, 2020

Powered by Toyota

God willing, we’ll figure out how to take photos which fit these boxes.

Well, I did it. Quit my good job in the trenches of county government in sleepy Upstate New York and now I am headed West with my good buddy from college (who for the purposes of these stories he will be referred to as “Zal.”)

“West” in that vague, idiosyncratic American way. Drunk on a potent cocktail of yearning to escape ‘It All’ and discover what awaits on the mythical frontier.

I’m keenly aware, though, of how privileged I am to leave my job abruptly on account of some fever dream and travel across the country without having to worry about my next meal.

Nevertheless, I refuse to be a victim of “one days” and “what ifs” like my jaded elders, who I feel lurking eerily behind me.

I long to see the America of Maya Angelou and Walt Whitman. Kanye West and Willie Nelson. Ralph Lauren and Sam Walton. Columbus and de Tocqueville. The agony and the ecstasy that comprise this complicated, pluralistic, infernal paradise.

Some have characterized this spontaneous vision quest of mine as “naive” “imprudent” and downright foolish––particularly in view of the fact that the Covid-19 pandemic continues to ravage the country. They make a point…but…to hell with ’em.

It is easy to hunker down. Too easy. Clock in on Monday. Get your paycheck on Friday. Nod to the neighbors on your way in to watch Netflix until bedtime. Comfort and passive contentment are gateway drugs to lethargy, mediocrity, and regret.

Anyway, sorry to bore you with the abstract, romantic stuff but thanks for allowing me to get it out of my system.

Now down to brass tacks: Zal and I pooled just enough money to make it to Chicago with 2 medium coffees each and three cans of Copenhagen Wintergreen between us. The rest of our cash is the buy-in minimum for an underground poker game on the Southside run by a dubious group of scoundrels. If we play aggressive we can boogie after say––an eleven hour binge with enough cash to get us across the Mason-Dixon Line.

I’ll be sure to let you all know how it works out. Or if. Thanks for reading.

--

--

Derek Smith

“Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large I contain multitudes.)” -Walt Whitman