The End of the Beginning

It's over. I've been sleeping in a bed under a popcorn ceiling for a week now. As I slouch beneath the sheets at night, my mind collapses into a peaceful calm. All of the inconveniences of the last two months are gone, but the reshaping of my mind still holds firm. If I could say one thing about my Vagabond adventure it would be a suggestion: Don't believe what the world tells you. Through my experience, I was able to test the core truths about social society and challenge myself to dig into God's reality. My journey was one of a kind. It wasn't straining on my body. I was never hungry, tired, or cold because I was living out of a car, but I learned what was important in life. Friends, family, God. It isn't a house that gives me security and comfort in life, it's relationships. You might be some mountain man type lonerdoo, but I'm not. I need people, I need God, and I CAN give to them as well. The adventure has ended, but the lifelong realization of the important things in life has just begun.

Looking Back Before It's Too Late

Three nights left. Before I know it, this whole experience will be just a memory. No more shock and awe statements proclaiming my backward lifestyle. No more secrets. No more eating out all the time, brushing my teeth in the bushes, peeing in gutters, looking left and right before I jump into the back of Shadow, covering windows, shuffling cardboard barriers, changing clothes while laying down, holding a piss for three more morning hours because I don't want to get out of the car, pulling my wardrobe out of the trunk, melting my surfboard everyday in the Tercel, stinky wetsuits that never dry out, or malicious malcontents scratching at my doors. No more adventure. Wait! Life goes on, but from here on out it's going to be different for me. I have a whole new perspective. I know what's needed. I know what's extra. I have a respect and fear for the stories of people who live as Vagabonds through no choice of their own.

Nothing's Sacred

Eyelids drooping, soul lifting into sleep, I'm completely comfortable in Shadow. A second later I feel a rattleclack and sense a presence outside my sheet metal walls. Someone is trying to open my door! "Not again," I exclaim in silent frustration. Would these people please get a life and let me live mine for once!! Bump, jiggle, scratch, silence. I rise up to peer out the fogged front windows. I can't see anything or anyone. What just happened? I know I didn't imagine it. Oh well, I assume it's high schoolers. Sleep.

"You'll never believe what happened to Cacey last night!" my friend Josh yells out across the cubicle maze. I pop my head up above the cork board wall like a gofer in spring and ask the customary, "What?" Apparently, he came out to his car in the morning and found a syphon tube dangling like a used IV drip. Someone stole all of his gas out of his tank and left the hose in defiance! Is nothing sacred anymore?! Who steals gas, honestly? And out of a gated community? That's redicurous! (Seinfeld)

My mind races back to the previous night. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The same poser who jacked Casey tried to jank me too! Lucky for me, Toyota builds a sweet locking gas lid, so my fuel was fine. I zoomed in on the door and saw where he attempted to pry it open with a screwdriver. Can you believe that? How many gallons do you think he stole that night? That's so 1970!

Needless to say, I won't be sleeping there anymore. I've moved once again to what will hopefully be a quiet, safe neighborhood where I can hibernate for the remainder of my stint.

What you need, and what you NEED!

A new friend asked me what I've learned through my experience. "Oh, a lot of things," I trailed off as I threw my head back against the black leather cushion and stared blankly at the whirring ceiling fan. "Like what?" she insisted. Uhhh! I didn't actually expect her to force a list of brilliant points and proofs, but I knew I had enough ammo to get the gunshow started, so I commenced shooting. I admitted that my journey wasn't actually as tough as I had expected. My worst fears prior to stepping out as a vagabond were boredom and cops, neither of which have peeked their head out from around a corner yet. I proposed that my experience was one-of-a-kind, not being a fully homeless adventure because I had the security of a job and plenty of money. I just slept differently from other people. A short pause, then my mind flinched and stalled.

Like a the sound of gunfire in a suburb, the realization startled me. My eyes widened and my head lifted from the couch as I aimed for one last shot of explaining with dead-on accuracy the most valuable point of all. Genuine needs. I've learned that there are essential needs for life, but they can come in many forms. My need for shelter was met in full force, just not in the way most people would choose. The fact is, my entire vagabondish journey has had no psychological effect on me because one imperative need has been fully satisfied and is now overflowing with abundance. It's the need for social stability which shines through loving and being loved by friends, family, and Jesus Christ. Life is much more than a career, food, and a place to live, whatever those may look like. My original hypothesis was that a stable den provides a sense of belonging and security, but now I know that I was aiming at the wrong target. Stability amongst other social beings is what we NEED. Without it, there's no encouragement, forgiveness, or love.

Far From Normal

My life right now is anything but normal. I live in a car! However, the initial shock has settled out. Jonah jumped off the boat about a month ago and the waters have been pretty calm ever since. Is that it? Is there anything else to learn? Have I arrived? Have I tapped out my experience?

These days, I do my thing after work which usually consists of a lot of hanging out, dinner, and maybe some writing if I get a spare hour. Late at night I brush my teeth and spit into the bushes, look left and right, then hop into Shadow for a "normal" night's sleep. I wake up, go to work, and do it all over again. It's funny how the bizzarro, which never drains of strange to the people I tell, has become perfectly normal to me. I could honestly say that I'd be fine going until Christmas living like I am, but I won't. In the same moment, I've lost my fever for pursuing new homeless adventures. Sure, I could initiate Phase II which consists of sleeping in random places like behind fences, up on rooftops, or under bushy thickets, but why? I could do that just as easily one night a month while renting an apartment and get the same experience out of it!

I'm ready for something new and exciting in life. This adventure is coming to a close and I can't wait to see what's next.

Creative Dating

I don't know if I wrote it, but I definitely said it to a few of my friends. With a Jim-from-The Office-shrug I admitted, "I've fully prepared myself to walk through a dateless desert on my way to the other side of this Vagabond journey." I could just imagine the conversations and lies (truth stretches) I would have to conjure on the spot. "So where do you live?" she asks. "Pretty close by," I laugh as I open the door of my 4Runner for her to get in. "Let's get out of here, that homeless guy over there is looking at me?" she pulls me across the street. "You didn't run when I looked at you before I kissed you," I smirk. Ha! If she only knew...

Wait, what if she did know? If I parked my car in her garage while we watched a movie, does that mean we moved in together?! Ha, I'm joking, of course.

And still, here I am.

Unverifiable Claim

I think I'm happy, maybe. Can that be true? Is it possible? I'm not wearing a billowing Hawaiian shirt and sipping iced tea on the greenbelts of Arizona. I'm just a twenty-four year old goofball. JP Morland said happiness is a state of mind, not a temporary feeling you get from buying a new TV. Imagine the nicest hippie you know. Now take away all the drugs, tie-die, and toe stench and you've got me. I can't explain it. Sure, I've got problems. I've got truckloads of issues! Ask anyone. Knowing that despite all of that, I can still get through this dastardly state of affairs called life and be better for it, that's happiness.

I'm living in a car and bored to death at work with barely enough time in the evenings to do the things I want, but hey, that's life. I've got awesome friends, great health, and plenty of money to get by. What more could I ask for? Did I mention I have awesome friends? One of the biggest surprises to me during this whole expedition is how accepting, generous, and hospitable my friends have been. I honestly feel bad accepting their kindness sometimes because I know I can't return the favor in the same way, at least not until after July 14th. "Hey, come over to my house next time!" NOT! I don't have one. I've got a stack of IOU's taller than Jim Carey's character on Dumb and Dumber. I guess it's a little taste of God's grace here on earth.

Where Am I?

Anxious, itchy, antsy. Legs on the verge of collapse, mind on the brink of rage. Let's go. What's next? Why are we waiting around? I want to get out of here!

Have you ever felt like you can't wait to get to a destination, then upon arrival, you count the seconds until you're on your way back home? All the juicy goodness of the event is sucked dry by the unexplained magnetic pull of your humble abode.

Well, that never happens when you're HOMELESS!! One of the greatest unforeseen fringe benefits of living in a car is a state of mind I like to call MMT, or "Meandering Migrant Theory." It can be summarized by one phrase I often repeat to friends when we're out and about, "Wherever I am, I am." That's it. Too simple? No, it's groundbreaking if you stop to think about it. In practice, MMT is a release from all the thoughts that rack our brains when we're trying to enjoy our time away from home. I might not even know my conscious is battling a slew of comparisons and creating defense responses to that "magnetic pull" I spoke of earlier. In fact, I might be thinking that the beach is too hot, the coffee shop is crowded, or my friend's house wreaks. In comparison to my former sultry shelter, these things may all be true. However, if I take a step back and think about it, what does it matter? I am where I am and I'm experiencing life in that place with all of it's goods and bads. I'm far more relaxed than I've ever been. In truth, I can say that my time spent out is monster-high quality. Am I making sense at all? It's such a hard concept to explain, but at the same time I feel that a lot of people have already attained this state of mind. It took being homeless to get the wheels rolling for me. I couldn't have predicted that.

Stepping Onto Escalators

Wait for it, the grooved metal stair emerges past the rubber lip. Lunging forward, you extend your leg and drop your foot as the stair rises to meet it. Suddenly the acceleration hits you and your unstable body compensates instinctively. You're really moving now, up and onward.

One month ago when I started this experiment, I could not, through any efforts of my own, get things rolling. There was so much I wanted to do and experience, but an invisible wall blocked my path. It's hard to explain and even a mystery to me, but every effort on my part to accomplish the things I wanted was utterly cluster-fugged.

Now, as I take a step back and observe my life, I wonder why I didn't take my own advice I gave to a friend a long time ago. It's not an original thought. In fact, I've heard it said many times since. Put simply, you have to move in order to get things moving. Sitting and waiting patiently can only take you so far. In some cases, even with a ton of prayer, you'll still be just as confused as to what to do as when you started.

For me, the initial step was to trust that my decision to challenge social norms and depend on God was valid. The only way to accomplish this was to start my vagabond experience. Suddenly, things started happening. A new church that my friend recommended needed my help Sunday mornings, something I had been trying to do for months to no avail. I finally got matched up with a kid in need through the Big Brother Big Sister program. Also, I became a part of a new biblestudy full of energetic, passionate people, each with their own unique life experience. My boredom factor has dropped considerably. I actually don't have enough time now! New friends are popping up in all of the above activities. Every night I'm spending time with someone, which more than fulfills the last phase of my RFI goal, investing in relationships. I can honestly say that before I moved out onto the streets, I didn't know what I was missing. My quality of life has not decreased as I've spent night after night huddled beneath the tin roof of my 4runner, Shadow. On the contrary, I've been more excited about life than my first joyful year of college. I'm experiencing incredible blessings everyday.

A New Map

Huddled beneath a molehill of frumpy cotton comforters, I inhale a deep breath of frosty cool air. It stings my nostrils and dries out the delicate tissue that lines my throat. As if my body isn't already screaming it in protest, I think to myself, "It's a bit chilly tonight!"

The cold, the hassle of constant moving, the denial of comfort. All good reasons people have brought to my attention as if trying to convince me that what I am doing makes absolutely no sense. Don't they see? That's the point. To experience another side of life, to see things, to feel emotions and fears that don't ever come close to an everyday jaunt in suburbia. Create your own adventure. Remember those books? That's exactly what I'm doing, but instead of being limited to going left or right, I'm choosing to walk straight off the map! My fingertip traces the edge of the crinkled papyrus as I stare in deep concentration at the routes delicately inked out before me. What's that, my finger stops. A ridge, a flap, an unglued corner. Digging a nail into the crease, I slit the edge in two. There's just enough room to slip my fingers in and tear the map into two sheets. A plume of dust induces a quick cough as bits of dried glue rain down like glitter to my feet. Examining the second and once hidden sheet reveals an intriguing truth: there is more to this map of life than I once thought. A whole new path of discovery is laid out before me. I'm ready to start.

Nightmares

Thump, clack, thud. What's going on? A spear of light penetrates Shadow's meager defenses like an alien probe, searching. Smack, bang, crack. Am I awake? "Open the door!" an angry voice pierces the night silence. Adrenaline mixes with sleep, my body is frozen. The 4runner shivers on it's frame rails. I can feel his presence gaining fervor. "Come out here!" he demands. Flash, scan, zap. The spotlight pulses. Tiny luminescent fingers reach through every gap, stretching, inches from the raised hairs on my exposed neck. Where is he? My mind finally catches up with reality. A thousand thoughts rush through my head. My adventure is over. I'm busted. The cops found me. Some one is robbing me, or worse. "Unlock the door!" The voice is raging with hate. Where is he? Sharp slits of yellow light slice my swollen pupils. He's everywhere! My head is spinning in this hollow cavern, this house of mirrors. God, help me! End it! Deliver me! Silence. Pause. Thunk, a car door slams. Ticka, ticka, vroom, a car engine roars. Screech, a quick getaway. Silence. Is he gone? There could be others. Peering out of a crack in my cardboard shutters, the coast looks clear. The cold vinyl stings my thigh as I slide over the center console into the front seat and quickly pull the sunshade down. I won't be using this street again. Looking in the rear view mirror as I pull away I catch a glimpse of my guardian angel. It's a passerby who stopped to check his oil. He must have scared away my attacker as he pulled in behind with headlights flooding the scene, chasing away the dark.

Staggering Results

Crouched against the wall of the handicapped stall, body battles the mind. "Vomiting is a choice, not a necessity," I try to convince myself. A fever droplet makes a timeless leap from my forehead to the cold, white tile at my feet. Soaking into the urine-stained grout between two squares, it's gone before my eyes come back into focus. Staggering back to my cubicle, I'm a walking zombie collapsing against file cabinets and clinging to fake potted plants.

"I'm leaving," I gurgle and cough as I pass my manager's desk. The next thing I remember is waking up drenched with sweat under six inches of blankets in the hollow cave of a living space I have come to know as Shadow. Barely making out the time, twelve noon, my cell phone blinds my sleep encrusted eyes. This black metal house has become a sauna in the heat of midday. Rolling down the windows means risking sunburn, but it's the only remedy. After one more dose of NyQuil, the fever and aching bones are lost in a dream. I wake at sunset, fully purged of the demons of sickness that would return sooner than expected in another form.

A Web of Lies

The crinkling of a plastic bag echos off the white panelled ceiling. A dull glow of fluorescent light illuminates my pale forearms. My fingers plunge through the contents of the bag, searching frantically for a lost cell phone cable. Now into a cardboard box of DVDs and plastic airsoft pellets. With a thud, I drop the box in frustration. It has to be here! My eyes scan the cubicle, working in unison with my brain to match images with memory. Where did I put that thing? Stopping to take a breath, a bead of sweat rolls down my cheek. How can I be burning up inside this air conditioned office? Yes, I've got it. I remember it's in a Ziploc under some manila folders in the other cardboard box. Scrape, the lid is off and the cable is in hand! Suddenly, I am aware of the dead silence of an empty office on Saturday.

As I bolt for the stairs, the heavy wood door leading to the lobby swings open on my right. Blip, static, beep, his radio gurgles. "I've got nothing to hide," I think to myself. Without thinking I mutter, "I found what I was looking for" and start to open the stairway door. His red striped tie bounces off his gut and folds over his rent-a-cop badge as the guard turns after passing me. "Um, can I see your I.D.?" he manages to stammer just as I'm about to close the door behind me. There's no reason to run, although I could beat this greasy-haired tool on one leg if I had to. "Sure. See, I work right here. I just had to grab something before heading out for the weekend. Sorry about the noise." I cut off his babble about someone stealing documents from the second floor with a slam of the stairway door and I'm home free.

The office is more than a place for me to work now. It's personal storage. I've got tools, books, truck parts, a 2 ton automotive floor jack, and food all stowed away inside my file cabinets. I need some of this stuff on the weekends, so dodging security is a must. I don't want them getting suspicious and blowing my cover or worse, so extreme times call for extreme measures. The other day I told the parking lot security that I needed to leave my car there overnight. Usually they are cool, but this time he pried, "Why?" I gave him a blank look and it only took a moment for him to answer his own question. Kicking his head back and throwing a hang ten hand signal towards his lips, he shouted to his colleague, "This guy is going to the after-work social and is gonna be drinking. He needs to leave his car here." Done. It was that easy. I just let him assume I'd be at the coincidental "after-work social" and I had a free pass for the night. I guess doing nothing is doing something, sometimes.

On one final note, I was given a choice to be honest or lie to my dad and I chose the former, thank God. He received the title for my 4runner in the mail and asked me what it was for. At that moment I thought to myself, "I can tell him I lost the title for Teeny Greeny and ordered a replacement." Is it worth it, though, because eventually I'll have to expose the truth when I show my parents the SUV I've been sleeping in for the last few weeks. I sacked up and told him I bought something, unloaded all the "sleeping" evidence, and rolled down to his house. Perfect. They are happy I bought a new car, but they still don't know that I'm living in it.

Vagabond Tip of the Day: When standing in nothing but boxers at 3 a.m. in the morning, balancing with your frozen toes curled over the edge of a sidewalk curb, and peeing into a residential neighborhood gutter, duck when you see headlights.

Break-In Period

It's not real yet. Life is still too normal. The fact that I am living out of a car hasn't hit me like a 1000 pound sack of lead-stuffed Beanie Babies, as I thought it would. Have you ever stepped into a new office on the first day of the job, or walked around during the grand opening of an amusement park? Everything is foreign and you walk around absorbing the sights as you aimlessly maneuver your way along a journey of brief discovery. It takes a while to get your bearings and figure out how to get back to your cubicle from the bathrooms across the maze of felt-covered partitions. After a few hours or even days, that soft pretzel stand you swore was right by the giant T-Rex is rediscovered at the feet of a fifty foot tall Captain EO Statue. Time slows down as the map inside your head adds layer upon layer of color and texture. This is the break-in period.

That is exactly where I'm at with this whole adventure. I'm zipping from street to street each night, timing street sweeping schedules and listening for high traffic thoroughfares. My evenings are filled with errands and craigslist sales meetings. I anticipated having too much time on my hands, but I've found myself struggling with a time-drought.

It's only a matter of time before a bright light bursts into shear instinctual eyelid contraction. Then, as I lift my head and open my eyes to a slight squint, I will see a green pasture of peace set before me. I'll have all the time in the world as the clock starts from scratch and I gleefully gather the tools to build a house with a view of the valley and river of life below.

Vagabond Tip of the Day: Pull over to the curb and pretend like you're talking on your cell phone as you wait for a resident to pull through the exit of a gated community. Throw your cell phone onto the passenger seat and gas it through the closing gates after the car has passed to score yourself a safe night's sleep.

The First of Many

I'm doing it. I'm actually doing it! Last night was my first night out on the streets of Aliso Viejo. I stashed a bunch of stuff at work in my file cabinets, loaded up Teeny Greeny with all of my clothes and food, then locked myself up inside Shadow, the 4Runner. I left a window cracked, put up shades on all the windows, tucked myself into my foam bed, and drifted to sleep to the hum of late night traffic just outside. I admit, it was a little cramped. I didn't have time to organize everything and despite giving away a ton of crap, I still have a truckload of stuff. I'll clear out more space for tonight to really fine tune the experience.

I thought I would be freezing my butt off, but I slept for most of the night with just a sheet! My sleeping bag sat in a lonely roll an arm's length away, wishing it was cold enough for me to give it some attention. Waking up to the gentle buzz of my silent alarm clock was a relief because it signaled the success of my first night out, one of many.

Vagabond Tip of the Day: Make sure you check for passers-by before you step out of a car wielding a toothbrush and wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe.

What Have I Done?!

It's really happening. Today Julie and Katie's new roommate is moving into my room, taking my place now and forever. I sold, gave away, and threw out everything I didn't need. I'm down to bare necessities, plus a surfboard or two! Shadow is ready. That's the name I gave my black 4runner with blacked out windows. The rear seats fold down, creating a flat surface which is almost perfect for sleeping undercover (it's a pun, get it?). Tonight I need to move the rest of my possessions into Shadow and Teeny Greeny, my Toyota Tercel, and I'll commence my first night of urban camping.

Lately I've been dodging a lot of questions and prying about my living situation. A guy at work asked me, "Are you homeless? Is that why you signed up for the gym?" Don't ask me how he inferred that because telling the story will only make me more pissed off! Up in San Luis Obispo, an old friend asked if I had a lease at my rental in Laguna Niguel. I told her, "No, in fact, I could leave at any time, even Monday morning!" I took a few seconds to chuckle on the inside after saying that. Finally, another friend at work who knows I've been talking about moving onto the streets asked me when I'd be starting. I told him very soon. By soon I mean tonight! Ha.

I feel like I did right before I bungee jumped off the Colorado Bridge in Costa Rica (did I already say that?). I'm totally avoiding the seriousness of the situation and just going for it before I have time to convince myself to pull back. It's a great strategy, like stepping out in faith.

Speaking of faith, this past weekend I took the chance to evaluate my true motives and reset my thinking. I know that I want to go on this urban camping adventure, but I don't know exactly why and I don't have a clear goal set for my time aloof. I have a set time period. My goal is to make it to Brad's wedding without giving up or getting caught. What will I actually do during the next four months? After a quick brainstorming session, it hit me. I will complete an RFI mission, something I just made up. RFI: Reset, Focus, and Invest. That's it. I'll push and hold the reset button in my brain to clear all of the crap and influence of societal norms. Next, I'll focus on what's important in life, specifically Jesus. Finally, I'll invest in my relationship with God, family, and friends. What more can I expect to accomplish? And what else is worth my precious time here? Reset, focus, and invest... reset, focus, and invest,...

The Details

Now don't get too excited, or should I say worried? By no means am I saying I'm going to live the life of a "bum." That would be much too boring for me! I'm just going to change my housing situation to something a little more exciting. I'm working on buying a vehicle to sleep in right now because camping out or sleeping on doorsteps is simply not feasible in Aliso Viejo. I'm looking for a van or SUV to keep the wind off my nose and the bugs out of my hair. I plan on keeping my Tercel to zip around town and go on trips. After all, this adventure of mine is going to be kept top secret until the proper time. I certainly can't be rolling up to my parents' house in a huge van with a bed in the back. My dad will want to inspect the entire vehicle and of course he'll ask me why I have all of my possessions in the back. Wouldn't that be awkward? Having two cars and nowhere to park them could present a problem. I scoped out a couple streets within walking distance of my work that basically function as overflow for the local apartments. People park their extra cars, work vans, and RV's for days at a time. I'm going to rotate my living vehicle from street to street every couple days and use my Tercel to zoom over to work. If I get an SUV, space is going to be tight so having a second car will be great for storage, too.

I'm sure you've got a hundred other questions about food, showers, the bathroom, and where I'm gonna keep all my stuff. Trust me, I've been asked before and I've got answers for them all:

Food: Fresh fruits and veggies, non-perishables, eating out, and going to dinner at friends' houses.
Showers: Fluor 24-7 gym with free towel service.
Bathroom: At work, at dinner, in the bushes if necessary!
Sleep: Sub-zero mummy bag, foam pad, limo-tint windows.
Work: Same as always.
Surf: As much as possible, keep the wetsuit at a friend's house.
Favorite TV Shows: Watch at friends' houses or don't watch at all, which is even better!
Stuff: Sell it, give it away. What do you really need in life anyway, stuff-wise?

Anything else? If there's something I've forgotten, I'll soon find out!

The Experiment

I'm commited to boredom. I didn't listen to my heart. I didn't follow my plan. I took what was safe and available. That's not me. Now I'm paying for it with complete lack of motivation and self loathing. I hate what I have become. My career really sucks the life out of me and I'm about to fight back to regain my freedom. The first step is to see what I'm capable of, to test my limits, to break the mold and see if I'm really ready to wake up and live. The first step is an experiment.

I decided a couple months ago that my life is too easy. All of the pieces seem to be falling into place, except I didn't make the puzzle. The pieces are all wrong and I certainly wouldn't put them where they're trying to go if I had the choice. The funny thing is, I do have the choice. This is my life! I don't care about the house with the yard, the wife, or the two kids. Well maybe I do care about the wife, but you get what I'm saying. The American dream is not for me. I'm too crazy and adventurous for all that. It's in my genes (mostly just the crazy part).

With all this thought about living sane and doing what everyone else is doing, I can barely stand to watch my life tick away. I made a vow to myself to do something so bold, so different, and so not normal that I would shake myself awake from this slumber of boredom. I decided to be fully and purposely homeless. Everyone I know lives in a house, condo, or apartment. Why? Is it more than just a place to sleep? I'm about to find out.

Footloose

Synonyms: Unencumbered, Carefree, Unattached. Don't we all want to be footloose? There's a feeling deep inside. It shakes and tumbles violently in the dark, chained by the goals society embeds in the flesh of our souls. It's shouting, calling on deaf ears to forget careers, money, and fame. Set free, it could tear your life apart. Gnashing at your limbs, it will strip away everything but life and love. What do I really need to survive? What are my needs physically, emotionally, psychologically, environmentally? I'm running in sand. I'm crawling through mud. I'm dragging the chains of society across a sea of magnets. I'm not footloose, ... yet.