Life, or something like it

The Seattle afternoon is dark and dreary through the coffee shop's windows. The $1.70 cup of drip I order each day has been empty for hours, but the baristas behind the marble bar don't care. Like the orange walls covered with blown-up photos of books, I'm part of the scenery here.

My thoughts, as usual, are thousands of miles away. This time, I'm transported to an evening last April on Hvar Island in Croatia.

Two friends, Paul and Kylie, and I had crammed in a tiny silver sedan and raced up the Croatian coast. We were through with Dubrovnik's crowds from cruise ships and package tours, even after camping in the woods on the town's outskirts. No plan existed, other than finding an island and driving the car, with every insurance option that could be purchased, as hard as possible. Up the coast hours later, we found a ferry that crawled to Hvar Island as its bow heaved up and down and sprayed us with water as the sun set.

The island was long and thin and we were on the sparsely-populated end. So, we wove through the countryside behind a small line of cars from the ferry with O.A.R.'s "Crazy Game of Poker" playing over and over.

Who's up for game two
what to do
my wallet's gettin' thin
and I just lost my watch last night
well I gotta problem
just one answer
gotta throw it all down
and kiss it goodbye

The three of us talked life. Failed relationships. Struggles with depression. The joy and agony of family. Our failures and regrets, triumphs and victories. Wounds everyone has. Nothing was off-limits. Nothing was hidden. Above all, we were real. There is safety in that vulnerability. No one pretending to be something they weren't or living behind the facade of jobs and routine and possessions. This kind of intimacy is rare, but seems to come most easily on the road.

So I said Johnny whatcha doing tonight?
He looked at me with a face full of fright
And I said, how bout a revolution?

None of us knew what the rest of the year held. That we would climb Mount Kilimanjaro. That I would junk the rest of my plans to stay in Africa for the summer. That Paul and Kylie would end up with jobs in Djibouti. That we would spend Christmas together in that tiny East African country, dodging sharks and cabbies high on khat.

And my feet are growing tired
My eyes a little wired
Don't know what to do unless I retire
And he just said let's play some crazy poker

All we knew that evening on Hvar Island was we were in the middle of an adventure. We couldn't stand the thought of life any other way. Whatever the ups and downs in getting here, all that seemed to matter was this night, this place, these people. Those are rare moments in life, ones you cling to.

I said that, was the craziest game of poker that I ever saw
But I'm not gonna quit and I'm not gonna stop