My friends are getting married. My friends are having babies. My friends are going to Disneyland for the second time this year with their families. It’s summer and quite frankly I’m not ready to roll up my sleeves and let work be the end all be all of my summer. But what in the world can I do alone? Knit a new scarf? Do I wear scarves? Do I knit? Find a new cinnamon roll recipe to give a go? Do I even cook? Or wait is that baking?

Travel! I need to travel! I’ve found myself thinking these exact thoughts as holidays, spring breaks, and summers rolled around each passing year. As I completed teaching summer school in August 2016, my overwhelming desire to travel trumped my inability to find an adventure mate. I’m independent, right? Right.

Just like that I decided. I set off on a 2-3 week long road trip in my black jeep filled with clothes, snacks, and no plan. If you know me personally, you know planning is not necessarily my forte. I knew I’d be traveling down the East Coast. I had a few familiar stops I could make along the way to ease my fear of being completely alone, but the solo stops in between would all be firsts.

After some time spent visiting my college roommate and her husband in Washington, D.C. and catching up with a high school girlfriend and her family in Greensboro, NC it was time for my first solo stop. As I pulled away from the comforts of my friend’s home, I started to cry. The tears were happy, excited, and downright petrified.

What was I doing? How was I going to have fun by myself? Where was I going to sleep? Whose stupid idea was this?

I drove for a few hours until I spotted a Waffle House. An oversized waffle covered in syrup and fresh whipped cream was the only decision I was willing to commit to at this moment. After chatting with locals, I decided on Charleston, SC for my first solo stop. I googled hotels and eagerly picked the one with the nicest pictures. Seemed logical. A room was booked before I was able to lick the last of the syrup from my fingers. Feeling lonely suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Every mile marker represented one step closer to being in an unfamiliar place with me, myself, and I.

I arrived in Charleston late afternoon and checked into the hotel. The staff was pleasant and the hotel strangely felt right. Maybe it was the lemon water in the lobby or the purple curtains that offered relief from the afternoon sunshine, that let me know my waffle induced decision was one for the books.

I was eager to start exploring and wanted to see as much as I could before daylight was gone. I took a boat from the hotel to the downtown area of Charleston. I remember seeing a huge fountain with children playing in the water when I stepped into the scorching heat. They obviously knew what they were doing better than I did at the moment.

I was dressed in a pretty black sundress and wasn’t about to let the heat stop me from getting the most out of my late start. I was dripping sweat, my phone had about 4% power left, and my feet hurt. Ah! Yes! Right there in front of my face was a sign that read Horse Carriage Rides. What better way to see Charleston quickly?

I walked up to the booth eager to pay and feel some sense of control. The guy behind the booth completely ignored my existence. In fact, he began helping an older couple that had come several minutes after me. As my phone died and the sweat poured off my back like a faucet, I lost my last shred of patience. I demanded that the man help me and sell me a ticket. At this point he could tell I was in a bit of distress; everyone within 100 feet of me could sense my cry for help. So what did the man behind the booth do? He started laughing at me! I lost it. Right then and there it all came out. I told this complete stranger that I was tired, hot, ALONE, and now lost because my phone died leaving me without my GPS. All I wanted was this horse carriage ride, so why wasn’t he selling me a ticket?!?!

After I was done throwing my fit he stopped laughing and explained that he didn’t ACTUALLY sell carriage rides. He sold timeshares. The signs were there to lure in older couples who would be more inclined to buy a timeshare. I didn’t fit his demographic. Unreal.

The man behind the booth was Kevin. He had brown hair, squinty eyes, and a smile you just don’t forget. Kevin offered to charge my phone, gave me a bottle of water, drew me a diagram of where I should head to see as much as I could before dark, and assured me that his diagram would lead me right back to this booth. I strangely put my trust in this complete stranger who had just deceived and ignored me only moments earlier. I left my phone to charge, thanked Kevin, and opened my eyes to Charleston, SC.

Kevin ended up taking me out to dinner that night. He changed his work hours the next day to take me to a local beach. I ended up deciding to extend my stay in Charleston. As I ventured around an unfamiliar city, that little white booth with the Horse Carriage Rides sign became a place of comfort. I knew I could charge my phone, grab a water, and see Kevin.

I wasn’t alone.

In a city full of people are we really ever alone?

I decided in that moment that I was only alone if that’s what I chose to be. The world is full of syrupy waffles to eat and people to meet along the way.