For the next three weeks, my home would be a small camper van. My company would be a team of fursuit makers, and two other furs that I only met today for the first time: one with a large beard and quiet demeanour, the other who wears a large cloak but no socks or shoes.
The camper van was packed, with more things than would seem possible to squeeze into such a space, and we managed to leave on time, around 9am. I had slept only 2 hours, and I don’t think anyone else slept at all. The mood was jovial, and everyone seemed excited for what the future had in store. It was the start of something fun, and we all knew it.
I, being careful to devoid myself of all responsibility, took the opportunity provided by the first stint of the trip — a long ride through highways and countryside, to a port with a ferry — to get some more sleep. Being starved for sleep most of my adolescence, I tend to value sleep more than almost anything else. I climbed into the upper bed, and into the far corner, my nose only inches away from the roof of the van. As the ride progressed, the gentle hum of the highway, sway of the vehicle, and rhythmic tatter of rain on the metal roof above me, together created a most relaxing and calming environment.
I remember reading somewhere that the flicker rate of a campfire and droplet frequency of a mild rain shower were very similar to the brainwaves of someone in meditation. This, it is assumed, is why us humans find such things relaxing.
I drifted to sleep, and woke up, feeling refreshed and excited, some five hours later. The sleep came easy, and I hope it would continue to do so. Quality sleep is something that does not come easy for everyone, and I’ve learned to count my blessings where I can.
The van seemed larger on the inside. There were three beds, a reasonably sized bathroom with shower, and a kitchenette complete with stove, refrigerator, and freezer. It was adequate for the five of us, despite our initial concerns.
I briefly wondered what life would be like to own a machine like this, and to travel incessantly, drifting from place to place, with no real reason, and all the while being able to continue working via the modern miracles of cell phones and laptops. I already kind of do this, but without the luxury of the machine — I instead rely on friends to provide hospitality, and perhaps this is the better choice.
The ferry port is located, and we arrive on time. A duty-free “Border Store” promises over priced booze and junk food, but I opt to stay inside and get some work done. I manage, via cellular data, to complete the day’s work, even before getting situated onto the ferry. My phone bill will likely be high this month, a small price to pay for the freedoms offered by such a service.
Inside the boat, multiple restaurants, arcades, casinos, stores, and observation decks provide ample options to kill the four hours this trip requires.
I would like to say that we all engaged each other in super interesting conversation, causing the time to fly by in an instant, but the truth of the matter is that we all, by this point, were quite exhausted, and mostly just relaxed and caught up on social media. A free WiFi service provided reasonably good internet, despite the complete absence of cellular data for much of the ferry ride.
Soon we would be In Trelleborg, Sweden. Aside from a short layover at an airport a while back, this will be my first time in Sweden, and I am quite excited.
Every opportunity for something new is an opportunity I cherish.