But, somewhere along the way I got twisted. I got warped. Maybe it was the day that I was sitting in one of those high-backed leather chairs in the bar at the Ruth's Chris across from my office, sipping a Manhattan and flirting with some sales assistant from the Bear Stearns office upstairs in the same building. When she asked me what kind of car that I drove, my eyes flashed out in utter repugnance and I casually said that I did not have a car, but rather a helicopter that was stationed on the roof, and would she like to come for a ride sometime?

Or, maybe it was when I started to talk about it with people after having rolled it around in my mind for months. I once spoke with a friend of mine that is quite easily old enough to be my father. (I find myself surrounded by friends that are twice my age. I value their advice.) I told him that I was thinking about taking some time away and going to Costa Rica. He said: "Do it now while you still can."

I guess I started then, like people boarding up their houses in lieu of a massive hurricane which might alter their entire existence. Then, I started to wonder: Just what is it that you are looking for?

More months passed, and although I still didn't have an answer I continued to nail my house shut, one board at a time. I hoarded my cash, bought my plane ticket and packed my bag.

On the day I left, I said goodbye to no one. There was no one. I remember riding the transit train down to the airport at 2am the morning before. It was the last train and I had to check in for my flight two hours before, which meant that I needed to be at the airport at 4am. The train roared to the airport and I sat, alone, with my one carry-on bag, in the car and I knew that things were never going to be the same again.

I boarded my flight and we took off. I looked out the window at the Atlanta skyline and waived. The stewardess came around and offered us drinks. "Sure," I said. "How long is the flight?" Five hours, she told me. I told her to just give me five beers and I would be okay. So I sat there at seven in the morning, and sipped my beer, and waited.

When we touched down in San Jose and I got through customs, I stood for a moment looking out at the chaos of taxis and cars and buses and people all clamoring for a fare or looking for a loved one or waiting for a tourist. The automatic doors opened and I stepped out into the humid morning, and then it hit me: freedom and knowledge.

I had been looking for those things that we all value, but sometimes never achieve in our short lives. The freedom to do what I want, when I want, and for whatever reason that I want. And, the knowledge to know exactly how things work. Oh, and it was here. Maybe it was in a lot of other places, but it was most definitely here.

And thus began my journey throughout Costa Rica. I vowed allegiance to no one and nothing. I was and I am an orthodox hedonist. I didn't want to travel to say that I'd been there; I wanted to live there to say that I'd lived there. So, if I spend two years somewhere, writing about it, learning the language and the customs, then it's because I am planning the next two years and the next two years and the next two years...

Questions?
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