2000 Miles

December was a strange month. At the beginning I was still cashing checks from a rather kush job at the Mindy Project, had two roommates that I had lived with for years and nothing but optimism about the future. In a few short weeks, my job ended, my roommates moved out and I found myself alone watching love actually and drowning in a bottle of whiskey.

I had always threatened to be the guy that didn't go home for Christmas. Why would I? There's nothing left for me in Indianapolis. A couple friends that I may or may not see, but most people got out, are now exploring the world the way I have always wanted to. Christmas at home meant watching It's a Wonderful life on Christmas Eve, opening a few presents Christmas morning and then sitting in the basement for a few days watching screeners by myself while my parents went to work.

Why waste such a glorious vacation on the cold and grey of Indianapolis when I could run away to Europe or South America and go on an adventure? Post photos from exotic locations to let everyone know that 'I'm living my best life!' Watch the comments and likes rolling in as I sipped a cocktail with my new international friends.

The problem was that as I so often do in los angeles, I ran out of money. I had even been hired to write on a pilot (!!!!!) in December. My first writing credit! But unfortunately you cannot go to the Disney Channel and tell them that you need an advance on your paycheck so that you can hop on a flight to Cabo to party for New Year's.

So I sat and drank cheap whiskey, watching every Christmas Movie on Netflix trying to reassure myself that being alone on the holidays wasn't the worst thing in the world.

My mom must have known as such because I received a phone call from my dad the next morning.

'I'm coming to la for Christmas. We're going on a road trip.'

Now if you don't now my father you should understand a few things. He first got a cell phone in 2011. He still has it, it's a flip phone. He absolutely despises travel. He would be perfectly content to come home from work every night and watch old John Wayne movies with the two family cats. So it came as a bit of a shock to me that he was impulsively flying to Venice for a last minute trip, let alone that he would want to do anything other than sit at the beach when he got here.

Apparently my mom had told him she couldn't bare the thought of her two sons being alone on Christmas, so even though she works retail and couldn't possibly get away during the busy season, she dispatched my father to come hang with me for a few days.

I picked my dad up at the airport 8am on Christmas morning where we immediately went to a rental car agency to get a car for the week. They were out of the budget Hyundai Sonata we had reserved so we were generously upgraded us to a 2017 Ford Mustang GT. It's the only time I have ever had a good experience with a car rental. The first stop on the trip was Wickenburg, Arizona. I had never heard of it either, but it just so happens to be a small town outside of Phoenix where my brother is living at the moment, trying to get a few issues straightened out.

I spent Christmas day driving 110 miles per hour east on the I-10 so I could spend an hour hanging out in a Quality Inn Hotel hot tub with my brother. It meant the world to him. I felt guilty scrolling through Twitter and Instagram seeing seemingly every person I have ever met on some wild family vacation in some sunny exotic locale. It made me long for the days driving to Florida for an Iowa bowl game, or ski trips to Tahoe, but I knew at the moment, this was important. This was where I needed to be.

I spent the night of Christmas at a bar called The Mecca. Nearly everyone in there was a tobacco chewing, cowboy hat wearing, Trump supporter. I realized something they also had in common was that they were alone. Whereas I sometimes choose to be alone, they had all come to this local watering hole trying to fill a void in their lives, I had come here because my dad had fallen asleep at 9pm and our hotel bar had closed early. Divorced dads missing their kids, Widows missing their partners, and me...

The next day was a four hour jaunt to Vegas. I dropped the top of the Mustang as we crossed the Hoover Dam and even convinced the front desk guy at our hotel to upgrade our room. He was from Venice. I told him the awol crew sticks together. He agreed and put us in a Penthouse Suite.

There isn't a ton to do in Vegas with your dad if he is not an alcoholic or a degenerate gambler so we had a few beers at the sports book and then did dinner at Todd's English Pub where the beer is always free if you can finish it in 7 seconds or less. (I finished in 6 seconds, Still got it.)

Dad went to bed around 9 again, leaving me hours to wander the Strip and ponder everything going on in my life, those thoughts you can only have while sipping out of an open container on las vegas blvd. Should I have gone to law school? Would I be married and comfortable if I had? Am i doing the right thing by being out here in la? Did I go wrong somewhere, I was always told I had so much potential. Part of me wondered if I should at least try to manufacture an epic night for myself, maybe I could find a girl, leave Vegas with a tale for the ages. Part of me felt lie I should just have a couple of those absurdly fruity drinks that come in the comically tall plastic cups and call it a night, I opted for the later. Maybe I am growing up.

The following morning we opted to drive up to Northern California. Indiana was playing in a bowl game against Utah and I had a long lost cousin that lived in San Jose. My father and I both love college football and it seemed a reasonable enough idea. Eight hours is how long we spent in the car that day. Talking about life, my hopes, his health, the future; things you don't have a chance to discuss when you live 2000 miles from your family. We made it to a little Mexican place in Campbell, CA had a burrito and their famous cocktail 'the Swirl' (6 shots!) before calling it a night.

The game was the following day. I spent it wandering the parking lot of levi's stadium drinking beer out of a Coors 12 pack and saying hello to fellow Hoosiers fans. I met legend Antwaan Randle-El and somehow my dad scored us some club level seats for free. The Hoosiers lost, but it didn't really matter. We met a lot of nice people and then spent the night at my cousins house telling stories from years past.

The 5 hours back to la the following day it sunk in to me that I had never really spent this much time with my dad before, at least not one on one. I had never thought we really shared that much in common. We butted heads a lot when I was younger. He grew up in a town of just over 500 and I never thought he understood me. He's a sales guy, unafraid of chatting with anyone. I tend to not enjoy talking to strangers. He's a homebody, I want to explore and while it was always very important for him to get married and have a family, I have always been much more independent. But when you're in a car with somebody for that long, you start to hear stories you didn't know; The summer dad rented a house in Colorado, the times he used to come to la for the Rose Bowl and spend hours playing foosball in Hermosa Beach at the Poop Deck, the times he would show up in Vegas without a hotel reservation and just 'see what happens.' Perhaps we weren't that different after all.

But what I always did know is that he would do anything for me. Without my dad, I wouldn't be able to survive in los angeles. I support myself for the most part, but if say I got hit by a car tomorrow and my health insurance didn't cover it a, I would be toast. I have a support system, I have people that love me. I have people that will drop everything and come to la on the off chance I'm feeling lonely.

As I've grown older I see a lot of friends losing loved ones and I can't imagine how gut wrenching it is. Sure it's a part of life, but I'm sure there is a part of you that is never ready. I'm extremely thankful for a week of memories I was able to make with my dad. I'll not soon forget our 2000 miles in a Mustang. I'll never forget Christmas in Wickenburg with my brother. I'll never forget betting the over in the Planet Hollywood sports book and celebrating with rowdy Detroit fans in the midst of their 5 day bender.

If you would have asked me if an impromptu Southwestern road trip was the Christmas Break I wanted, I would have probably told you no. What about Cuba or Australia or some other bucket list item? I mean San Jose isn't really the mecca of tourism right? 2000 miles could have gotten me to Mexico City or Hawaii or even Chicago!

But in the end, it was the trip I needed. Family is important. Making memories is important and it serves as a reminder that any time I get a little low on myself I need to remember there are people out there willing to fight for me. I enter 2017 with a lot of uncertainty. I'm about to turn 30. I don't have a job and I'm not quite sure what the future holds. I certainly don't have all the answers as I try to make it work for myself out here.

But what I do know is that there are a lot of people on my team. And that counts for something.