Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century

by Jessica Bruder

Dreadlocked teens and twentysomethings in weather-beaten backpacks sit on the curb. Their tribe calls itself by many names—crust punks, dirty kids, travelers, and Rainbows, a reference to the Rainbow Family gatherings that many attend. Some of the kids are hitching rides out of town—to Yuma, to Phoenix, anywhere. Others hold cardboard placards that ask for cash. They don’t call this panhandling, though. It’s “flying a sign,” or “jugging,” or “spanging”—short for spare-changing—and it’s what you do when the gas money runs out. Many of the older folks give them dirty looks, but others play along. A white-haired cashier at Dollar General rings up two six-packs of Miller Genuine Draft for a guy in a brown hoodie and blond dreadlocks; she laughs when he jokingly extends a palm full of colored stones in payment instead of dollars. A spirited debate rises on the post office line between a snowbird and a young drifter with a handlebar mustache. Are humans spiritual beings who transcend this planet? Or just fuck-ups trashing the earth? When evening comes, the kids retreat to desert encampments. They pass bottles of whiskey around the bonfire, strum guitars, roast hot dogs, roll joints, kill time.