I love to travel.

I spend my time traveling to earn money to go on yet another escapade to a gorgeous or physically challenging location.

The catch?

I've never been outside of my homeland, the USA. Probably because one of my best friends, Alfred; he'd probably be bored out of his skull if he didn't have anybody to party with.

I walk into my shabby apartment, this time in Alaska, and peek hopefully into my sock drawer to see that I almost have enough money to travel again! Maybe to Oregon, this time, though I sure would miss the Last Frontier.

Just one more day of work and I'd be off.

Just one more exhausting day of work.

I wake up early the nest morning to the buzzing of my phone.

Too tired to wonder how I have cell service, I put it angrily to my ear.

"Alfred," I hiss, brushing my goldish-brown hair out of my eyes, "It's three in the morning! What the—"

"Hey! Dude, hi!" I hear him exclaim, energetic as ever, "I just called to let you know, you're coming to D.C.!"

I sit up in bed for a moment, uncomprehending, before it finally clicks.

"What the heck?! Why? I barely have enough money to go a few states down, and flipping Washington—"

He cuts me off yet again.

"Yeah, dude, you also have to be there by…okay, it's Wednesday morning… so by Thursday!"

"What the—"

"Yeah, you might have to cut through Canada, but I'm sure he won't mind."

"Al, I don't even have a passport."

"I got you, Brohas, don't worry! You won't need one, because I told the airport dudes to let you on without one!"

I sit in silence, stunned.

"The catch?" I ask suspiciously.

"Besides having some serious jet lag?" I can practically hear my friend's cheeky grin. "Well, you have to tell him your name, age, and totally rock out to the national anthem while he films!"

"What?!" I yell. Not that I'm not patriotic or anything, it's just that, Al will definitely use this against me… somehow… he has his ways…

"Fine," I snarl, "But I still don't have enough money. I'll have to work."

"Sure thing! You can work tomorrow, then, and you can come on Friday. The thing was on Friday anyways; Thursday was for your comfort…"

"What THING?!" I scream at him, but Alfred is already hanging up. "By, Asher."

I sit in bed, stunned at the new turn of events. A few seconds later, Al texts me.

"McCarthy Airport. Don't be late, man! I'll meet you in DC."

I sigh. There's not getting out of this one.

I don't fall back asleep. I get up at four; the same time as everybody else, and start work.

The sun still isn't shining; it won't for almost another year.

I slip into a work aviator jacket, sliding it on over my black tank top. The sounds of morning follow me outside and down the main road as I chew on a granola bar, my breath fogging the air. It is a cold October, but I try to count my blessings. It doesn't work.

Tuning my violin, I lay my black and red beanie on the ground for people to throw money into.

I start out with a few slow minuets to wake my usual crowd, but eventually slide into my well-loved Irish pieces.

This goes on for a few hours until my arm feels like it might just fall off and I've collected around a hundred dollars and one Canadian dollar bill.

I pack up and go to the Davis family's cabin to chop wood until noon. They would be doing it themselves, but they had month-old triplets to take care of, so they paid me another hundred to do that and any other housework for five hours.

A cold ham sandwich for lunch, and I begin my job as a waitress until seven PM, where I've earned one hundred and fifty dollars and seventy more for working late and in tips.

Finally, I play violin some more until nine PM, so I have earned a total of four hundred and twenty dollars, a new record.

"These people sure must want me to leave," I mumble, my eyes clouding with the welcome colour of sleep.