The hitchhiking trip to Panama City Beach had changed my life. Decisions about what I would do in the future were guaranteed that weekend. That fateful weekend of 1972 made me realize that I had absolutely no desire for adventure, no quest for the unknown. I realized it was not important to see what was out there. Understanding different cultures was irrelevant and useless, comprehending the ways and means of those different from me was not on my wish list. I learned I was uncomfortable with the inconsistency of the nomad. My concerns were into what bed I would sleep every night. I had to know there was shelter from the rain and warmth from the cold, had to know what tomorrow would bring, even if it was going to be depressing. I finally understood, that if I wanted to see the Parthenon or the Coliseum, I would have to go to the library, if I wanted to see a tribe from Uganda, I’d buy a National Geographic, if I wanted to feel the air in California, I’d play a Beach Boys’ album. If I wanted to catch trout in Montana, I’d watch the Saturday morning fishing shows, and if I wanted to play with the Beatles, I’d jam with their records. If I wanted to ski like Jean Claude, I’d watch the Olympics, and if I wanted to sleep with Peggy Lipton, I’d masturbate to the cover of TV Guide. The experience I’d had in Panama City Beach taught me one important lesson; I did not want to go anywhere, and, what is more important, I did not HAVE too. I am happy (stupid) staying here, in the town where I live, where I grew up, and there is no need to go any place else. Oh, it was a glorious revelation for me. There was something in my soul that said I didn’t have to be transient, that I could live my life within a circumference of one hundred square miles, that I could spend the next sixty years of my life enjoying everything life had to offer, without ever leaving those precious square miles, and, that, at the end of my life, those same square miles were where I would spend eternity. Oh it was a tremendous consolation.
And my biggest mistake.
-excerpted from the novel 'momentary haze' by bill bice
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