We woke up in a warehouse in East Houston. Stacked next to us, upended and with bicycles in the air, rested a line of rickshaws. We were curled together on a one-man cot in the midst of it all. Surrounded by gear and graffiti with an American flag hung from the ceiling.
Cars buzzed by in the street directly above our heads, just a couple of sheet metal doors between them and our sleeping bodies.
A roof! A roof! And even some walls. We don’t ask for much more. Yet, the spaces we’ve experienced while seeking shelter from friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers, has taken us through so many unexpected and amazing adventures!
Just an evening before our night in the warehouse, We woke in an industrial loft on Galveston Island. I remember my eyes first opening to the sounds of the street, four stories below, and the low-pitched horn of passing, perhaps docking, ships. A comforting “Good morning” from the shore.
Although, the metal-to-metal scream of the railroad tracks stretched through the major metropolis of Houston brought me comfort as well. And the activity in the street of a waking city. The noise. It’s all just noise. A symphony of human innovation.
We woke up on Jan. 20, in Houston, to Joe cooking us a breakfast of French toast, eggs, and bacon. He set out real maple syrup on the countertop of a kitchen fashioned into the corner of the warehouse.
“I’m just going to make the whole loaf,” he told me. “I don’t want to send anybody back on the road with an empty stomach. You can cut that bag of powdered sugar to sprinkle on top.”
I met Joe my first time through Galveston when I stopped in MOD Coffeehouse and he insisted I go to Fitzgerald’s for what turned out to be my favorite show of the whole, 4-month, cross-country trip.
He introduced us to Becky, who gave up her own bed and beautiful Artspace loft in Galveston so we could sleep comfortably in a real bed, make ourselves breakfast, and shower at our leisure.
Last night, though – an interview with the “legendary” KTRU, an evening of music, comedy, and friends at Super Happy Fun Land, and the warehouse we called home for one night in East Houston. The beauty of life can be hiding behind two sheet-metal doors.