Daytona Beach, $400,
and the Rest of My Life

I want to tell you about the worst meal I ever had.

The last football team I would ever play for had just cut me. Done. No more tryouts, no more chances, no more telling myself that this time would be different. The dream I had carried since I was a kid was officially over, and I was sitting in my car in a parking lot trying to figure out what that meant.

So I drove. With no other ideas, I simply aimed the car south and drove for sixteen hours without stopping. I'd always heard about Daytona Beach. I figured I'd spend a couple of days on the beach, clear my head, and figure out my next steps. What I hadn't fully accounted for was that I had about $400 to my name, and most of that needed to get me back home.

I was planning to sleep in my car. Eat Little Caesars hot and ready pizza. Five dollars a day, stretch it out, get my mind right.

And then I drove past this restaurant.