For the past three years I was gainfully employed by my family business. I got pretty complacent and used to making a solid income and for all intents and purposes, lived high on the hog. I spent money freely, went to the bar several times a week, and bought anything I wanted. My kicks were never dirty, clothes up to date, I saw every movie that came out, never missed a thing that was hot.
I thought back to the days when I was sleeping on Gavin's floor. Before that I was about two steps away from a bitter end. I was hustling in the streets of Wilmington, North Carolina, doing this and that to make ends meet. Doing some things that were not exactly legal, so to speak. Eventually I got too caught up and was put in a situation where I either had to escape or the next logical step was death or jail.
I packed up a solitary suitcase and hopped on the Greyhound and headed to Ft. Myers. You ever wanna see some weird characters crammed into one spot, go ahead and take a late night bus trip. Hookers, dope fiends, and general homeless folk populate bus stations. The smell of urine is pretty strong, too, for whatever reason. My best recommendation would be to stay on the bus, but as a smoker, sneaking in a cig or two during these layovers is an absolute must. I remember at the bus station in Wilmington, right before I left, there was a black woman strung out on something, crack perhaps, running around with no pants or underwear on, her hair a wild mess. She had to be subdued by police while parents and children looked on.
Leading up to this time in my life, I had always carried myself with a sense of entitlement, a devil may care attitude. Mic-iLL, to the max, so to speak. And as a small time hustler, I actually finally lived up to the lyrics and image I tried to portry for so long. I was in need of a serious wake up call. Since I'm not a snitch I will not detail the events of what lead to the wake up call, which in turn lead to the bus ride and me ending up with $200 and a spot sleeping on Gavin's floor back in Florida.
It was that moment in my life where I was finally humbled. I was not who I thought I was. The flashiness, the "rapper", all that bogus shit finally eroded from my life then and there. It kind of has to when you have to ride the bus at 6am to get to your job as a stockboy at an electronics store and barely make enough bread to do anything with. Finally I had enough money to buy a car, and it was my boy Chris' old, beat to hell Toyota that I scored for like, $400. The muffler coughed up mushroom clouds of black smoke everywhere I went. Sometimes I was lucky to get the car to start. But it was something I did and accomplished through grit and hard work, my parents didn't bail me out. It was during the course of that year I really became a man, became the man, became me, Michael Nalbach. Not Mic-iLL, not whatever. I became who I really was.
I am reminded of this now in my current search for a job, as money begins to get a bit tight. And it reminds of me that dude who boarded a Greyhound bus with nothing left and made himself into a man. It was almost five years ago when I transformed from a broken man into a redeemed soul. Now, I find myself at another crossroads, but this time with no drugs or false images to hold me back. I have the blessings of the almighty, and the power and determination. I've been through worse, and this too shall pass.
If not, redemption is just a bus pass and space on the floor away.
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