It suddenly starts to rain, and most of the guys run for shelter in the RV park’s men’s room. I take cover under the kitchen tarp with Eli. “I’ve been traveling since I was nineteen,” he says. “Not like how these guys do, hopping trains and shit, but I’ve been to nineteen countries. I see jobs as a means to my end. I make probably ten grand a year, and I feel like I’m living like a rich man. How many millionaires go on five-month vacations? I’m giddy as hell about the next five months. I have no idea what it’s going to bring—I have an entry flight and an exit flight and three countries to
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