I took a quick detour from the trail last week.

This past Wednesday, I had a 2nd interview with Google (for those who know me, working for them has been a life long dream). Apparently they’re expressing interest in acquiring the Good Badger. I suppose due the sheer size, technically it would be considered more of a merger. The Google Badger.

But in all honesty, I have no choice but to keep my expectations realistically low. By the time you’re done reading this sentence, Google has received approximately 56 more resumes. Apparently when you have 20 complimentary gourmet cafeterias on your campus- people want to work for you. They have no choice but to be ultra-selective. My competition is Harvard grads. I went into the interview with a huge mountain man beard and a borrowed button up shirt and slacks a size and a half too big (Brandon- you’re too tall damnit). I already looked like a homeless guy, the sheer excitement in my eyes to be part of civilization only compounded this impression. Either way, I’m fortunate to have options available to me on the other end of the trail- one of which is being a professional bum (my current vocation).

homeless man face

Regardless of the outcome, I am finishing the trail. I set out to do something. Damnit- I’m going to do it.

Because arranging the flight to San Francisco required a good amount of guess work in terms of pacing and ability to get to an airport- my current situation looks a tad different than before I left. I arrived into Damascus, VA Sunday- and didn’t get back onto the trail until Thursday afternoon. In other words, Whoop and the rest of the gang are long gone. Badger is flying solo.

Oddly enough, my first two days on the trail after losing the group, I didn’t encounter another human being. That’s the first time I can say that so far. A bit strange, but also strangely awesome. That 36 hour span felt a tad like Man vs. Wild (except I was equipped with 11lbs of Clif Bars and Snickers, and didn’t drink any urine). I have since found other people- but my time in wilderness without fellow human interaction has aroused irreversible animal instincts (I stopped wiping).

This update is brief not due to a lack of information to convey to you but because AT&T grants me 39 seconds of connectivity a week. 37 of those seconds are spent convincing my mom that I’m not dead. More to come later.

Life is good.