SUN SONG 28 + 29: Another Time, Another Visit.
The Milk District, BMX bikes, and a long train ride
June 12th, 2022
Orlando, FL → Miami, FL
2.09 miles
Not much walking yesterday. Here’s the map from the day before.
Hello from Miami!
I had a 6.5hr train ride from Orlando yesterday and almost talked the entire way. Beside me sat Helen, a 89 year old lady from Richmond, Virginia who was on her way to visit family.
I was able to catch much more sun during my last day in Orlando, however I still got caught in the rain. It’s taken me 2 days, but I’ve learned it’s best to get walking as early as possible down here. Wait too long, and you’ll be soaking wet.
I entertained going to Disney World, but was afraid it would have been a waste given I had no plan. I’ve never been to Disney, nor would I consider myself a Disney head, but the grounds have cultural significance that could have made for a very unusual and fruitful day of walking. I’d rather make the best of it than go on a whim. Even if I wanted to go, tickets were outrageously priced and the Magic Kingdom was completely booked. I would have only been able to see Epcot.
So it goes. Another day, another trip to Orlando.
Disney World ain’t going nowhere. Instead I went to Lake Eola Park.
We’re all sinners and must be saved
I’m talking with a man who handed me a fake $100 bill with a caricature of Tom Hanks on the front. On the back is a brief text on accepting the lord Jesus Christ as my savior. This whole thing is a gimmick to get my attention.
Just because I go to the bank doesn’t mean I’m a millionaire. Just because I do good, doesn’t mean I’m going to heaven.
He drives down to Lake Eola from some suburb up north every weekend just to spread the Good Word. His $100 bills are convincing, although everyone ignores him anyways. Except for me, of course.
You’re traveling? Here, take this. You've got plenty of time for God.
He hands me a tiny booklet, which is printed to look like a stack of $100 bills. Inside are prayers and passages describing why we are all going to Hell.
I’ve no intentions of visiting Hell during this walk, although you could argue I’m already there. Walking Central Florida in this heat is ungodly.
I had no real destination in mind today. I knew I wanted to eat at Pom Pom’s for dinner. The sandwich shop was recommended by many locals, but how I filled my time between now and then was really anyone’s guess.
It was Saturday and I assumed downtown would be much busier than it was when I arrived on Thursday. Lake Eola was buzzing with locals, which is a lovely place to spend the day, but the Central Business District was as good as a ghost town, save for the homeless congregating in the park outside of the Orange County History Center. There wasn’t much open except for a handful of bars, a coffee shop, and the public library, which I’ve learned is a reliable place to cool off or use the restroom – no questions asked.
I continued north, past Colonial Drive and up Mills Avenue, the same area where I had Vietnamese food the day I arrived. The area, known as Mills-50, is popular among young people and I hesitate to call it a neighborhood. Orlando isn’t really a city of neighborhoods in the traditional sense, but network of business corridors and suburbs. There are little pockets of distinct residential areas that could be considered neighborhoods, but you really don’t see residences mixed in with commerce as you would in more walkable cities like Boston, Philadelphia, New York City, etc. Given that Orlando is so auto-focused, I’d argue the suburbs are really the neighborhoods, and Orlando as a whole is just “downtown.”
Mills Avenue, like many of the arterial roads of Orlando, is void of people hanging outside. Instead, everyone hangs inside the packed air conditioned spaces of a restaurant, for example. The only sidewalk traffic consists of those just getting in or out of their parked car. So, understandably, when I heard the distant cheering of people in an alley behind a blockade of stripmall businesses, I had to see what was going on.
A group on BMX riders congregated in the parking lot of a bar. In the middle of the alley they set up a tiny plastic ramp. Each rider would stage themselves at the end of the alley, pedal at full speed, and launch into the air. One of the riders mentioned they were having a longest jump competition. I watched a young boy, no older than 8 years old, crash into the cement. When he hit the ramp, he didn’t pull up enough and went into a full nose dive, which caused him to smack into the pavement and slide across the alley. His hands were torn up and his knees were covered in blood, but he got right back up as if nothing happened. Within minutes he was back on his bike.
A series of riders launched off the ramp, landing further and further than the last. They must have jumped 20 feet from the ramp. A DJ played thrash metal underneath a tent and each time someone hit the ramp, everyone would collectively cheer and drown out the music. I’ve no idea if these riders were affiliated with one of the businesses or if they just picked this alley because there was nowhere else to go.
Everyone seemed to know each other, but nobody questioned my presence. If anything, they encouraged me to join. In my youth, I raced BMX bikes on a dirt course and when I mentioned it to a rider, he offered me his bike.
Go on, hit the ramp!
I had to decline. It’s been years since I’ve rode BMX and I wasn’t looking to break my body.
I stopped at a gas station, one of many I would visit today, for a bottle of water and eventually walked all the way to a neighborhood called Audubon Park. The area is unusual in that it’s plagued by airplane traffic and located beside a couple small Army facilities. The homes are really nice and well maintained. It’s your classic suburban-style neighborhood, so I was completely rattled when a humvee of soldiers drove down the street. I pulled out my camera while a woman waved from her front porch. This must happen frequently.
So afterwards, I got caught in a steady rain, although it wasn’t nearly the monsoon I encountered the day before. I like walking in the rain, especially in Florida given the rain doesn’t get my shoes completely wet. It feels like my feet are buried in a bucket full of cement once they’re soaked. Most of my gear is waterproof, so it’s nice to walk and not have to worry about my belongings getting ruined.
The rain ceased and the sun came out just as I walked a long stretch down Colonial Drive. Again, there’s nothing but big box stores over here and a true lack of shade. I could feel the sun cooking my skin, so I applied more sunscreen and tried squeezing out any shade I could find along the sidewalk. It’s really no use as the buildings are set behind massive parking lots. Instead of shadows it’s white hot cement. I have a bad habit of not wearing sunglasses, but out here it’s nearly impossible to go without them.
I took a right down Bumby Avenue and saw the most beautiful clouds in the distance. There’s something about the sky here in Florida. I’m not sure if it’s the elevation or because it’s so flat, but the sky is endless and feels so close to the ground. Looking into the sky, I realized this walk is coming to an end soon, and I wanted to cherish the moment before it was all over. While this stretch of road was far from the prettiest place I’ve walked over the last twenty-something days, there was a certain beautify about it. Never in a million years would I have expected to be here in Orlando just walking around, but somehow all this walking stuff led me here. I was completely content experiencing this strange and bizarre central Floridian landscape.
My stomach began rumbling just as I landed in the Milk District, which is one of Orlando’s most popular business corridors. The area didn’t always have a title, until a few years ago when business owners brainstormed a name for branding and marketing purposes. The name isn’t completely made up, but pays tribute to the milk factory that began operation in the 1920’s. The area is still home to one operating milk producer’s plant today.
I came here for Pom Pom’s, which was my only goal for the day. The sandwhich shop is located in a stripmall beside a record store. Inside it’s painted a dark navy, which feels cavernous in the best way possible, especially when it’s so hot and bright outside.
I ordered a smoked salmon sandwich with a side of mac ‘n cheese and a sweet tea. All delicious. I’m due for another visit, albeit much later in the evening as Pom Pom’s is open until 2am. That’s pretty late for a sandwich shop, even for New York standards. The shop is so quiet and peaceful during the day, I can only imagine what it’s like at 2am, especially since they serve alcohol.
Another day, another trip to Orlando.
Completely full, I walked back to my Airbnb just before it started raining again. Along the way I circled Lake Como, which is buried inside a quiet residential nook. It’s better described as a pond as it’s so small. I accidentally circled the lake twice because I was lost in thought while noticing little birdhouses in the trees. I was completely baffled when I realized I’d circled the lake for a second time. If I didn’t have to pee so bad, I likely could have continued circling on and on. I’m convinced Lake Como has magical properties in that regard. Something about walking it, even though it’s so small, feels endless.
I ended the day at 12.59 miles.
The following morning, I boarded the train around noon. It was nearly two hours delayed and I had a very long ride ahead of me. Instead of shooting straight to Miami, the Amtrak takes a detour and stops in Tampa. Then it makes its way south along the eastern coast of Florida.
The train was absolutely packed and a woman complained so loudly on her phone while we waited to board. The level of complaint was compical, as if she was totally acting, but she wasn’t.
This is stupid! Are you serious! I can’t believe this.
As I mentioned earlier, I took a seat next to Helen and hoped to get some much needed rest. I drank coffee the night before and really was unable to get any serious sleep. Yet, as I closed my eyes, Helen started rattling off questions. She told me all about her life and childhood adventures visiting family New York City during the 1950’s.
At 89 years old, she had my full attention. She was incredibly full of life and sharp as a tack. She told me stories about being a Black woman in the South during the Civil Rights Movement or how she wasn’t allowed to swim at Virginia Beach as a teen due to segregation. Part of me wishes I could have recorded her speaking. Helen is a primary source of a generation that is slowly disappearing. Born in 1933, there’s a chance she could have met people who fought in the Civil War. She certainly met those who fought in World War I.
So where are you traveling?
I told her all about my walk. She was intrigued, but in Helen’s eyes, it begged a certain question.
So when are you gonna give this up? When are you gonna get married?
I told her I had no intentions of giving it up soon.
Keep on traveling, someone’s gonna catch those blue eyes. I think you’re out here looking for a lady.
I don’t always know why I walk. Sometimes I don’t know the answer, so I wasn’t going to completely rule it out. Anything can happen on the sidewalk.
Helen and I continued talking, talking, talking. She could tell my eyes were getting heavy, and we’d stop talking for a short period, but then something would spur conversation once again.
She complained how she wasn’t able to wash her face or brush her teeth, as she’d been on the train since 6pm. With a pillow around her neck, I watched as she carefully reapplied her make-up. She was a beautiful lady and I asked to take her picture, but she insisted I wait until she had done all her make-up. Unfortunately she took too long and I dozed off, when I had my chance, we’d arrived at her stop and she was getting off the train.
Alright now, take care, you. Be safe.
Another time.
Landed in Miami around 8pm and went straight to my Airbnb. The Miami train station is nothing special and feels like a deflated balloon, but I’ll take it. I was just so happy to have arrived in the final city of this long, long walk.
This is my first time in Miami and I already have so many places to visit. My host was very generous and spent nearly an hour running me through maps and books describing all there is to see in the city.
This morning, she cooked me breakfast and brought me coffee. I’m in good hands. I’ve a few days to chill out here before returning to the Big Apple. Looking forward to the Magic City. Three more days left of this walk.
Much more later,
–Alex