There It Is

I had been on the road for six months before I experienced it, that feeling of complete and utter freedom. It started in Chiang Mai, in the bus station. The walk to the market where I’d picked up food had left its mark, a thick crescent of sweat hidden by my hip belt. The purse I always carried close to my chest was full of sliced mangoes, accompanied by the tiny bags of salt and red pepper to dip them in. Strawberries covered in sugar.
As I walked up to the counter to buy my ticket up to Pai, fruit sticking out of every pocket, I heard the Beatles streaming out of the ticket seller's phone. "Come together right now..." So of course I hit the beat on the counter with my palms and finished, "...Over me."
I was an instant hit with man at the bus station. He insisted I sing through all the Beatles songs on his phone and I was happy to comply, as he didn't seem to notice my fondness for changing keys when I hit the limit on my range. I was a touch giddy at this unexpected connection. After four months in Central America I had become pretty competent in Spanish. If I missed anything in Asia, it was that ability to talk to people. To complain about the heat with the woman who ran your favorite restaurant or praise that new single Makano just dropped. We ran through "Something", "Hey Jude", and "All You Need is Love" before my bus arrived.
It was a beautiful old bus. There were no doors and the windows were rusted open so the air rocked through the gaping holes in its side as we twisted up through the hills. These features didn't occur to me until kids started throwing buckets of water into the bus.
Sonkran, the Thai New Year, and as best I can describe it, a huge water fight, wasn't for a few weeks. So this attack was preemptive. There really wasn't much we could do but duck. Which we did very enthusiastically, screaming and hitting the floor. Soon everyone on the bus was drenched and laughing.
During a brief respite from the kids lined up next to the road with their buckets, I stuck my head out of the window and gulped in air as if I'd been submerged. And there it was. That feeling.
I'd been traveling with a friend from high school for six months; this was my first week on my own. I was truly alone, for the first time in my life. I could go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted. I was about to fall in love for the first time, because for the first time I felt truly like myself, and even though I didn't know it, I could taste it in the air as the bus careened left and right.