Sleeping at the Walmart Inn
Senior Moments
A little while back we were planning my wife’s hike of the Appalachian Trail, a potential five-to-six-month, 2,200-mile trek through the woods from Georgia to Maine. Hundreds of hours were spent watching YouTube videos to better prepare for the upcoming challenge.
In full support of my wife, I decided to shadow her for the first couple of months from Georgia, go home when she reached the Mid-Atlantic states, and then rejoin her somewhere in New England.
In our planning, it soon became evident that my staying in motels and Airbnbs would not be fiscally responsible. As it was, the estimate for the cost of my wife’s hike, gleaned from various sources, prompted me to search the internet for alternative options for accommodations, one of which was Walmart parking lots. There are websites and apps dedicated solely to this option with mixed reviews depending on the locations.
Preparations were made to our minivan for what potentially would be my home for weeks, if not months. A 4-inch-thick-slab of foam would be my bed, along with a sleeping bag. I cut pieces of foil insulation to fit the windows and spray-painted them flat black. A small cooler filled with ice from Walmart every few days would suffice as my refrigerator. A small USB fan served as ventilation to keep the air circulating.
Organization was not my forte, but through trial and error, mostly error, bags were suspended on hooks for easy access to keys, a spare key fob, glasses, flashlights, a cell phone and other essentials.
My procedure upon arriving at the selected Walmart was to introduce myself to the manager, explain my request and ask their permission, which was always granted, albeit with some caution at a couple locations. I made myself plainly visible while spending money in the store and familiarized myself with some of the staff. Visits to the restrooms were greeted with knowing nods of recognition.
When it was time to bed down, I would park in one area of the lot to put up the blacked-out insulation panels and prepare the bedding. Then, to dissuade any prying eyes, I would move to another area for the night.
YouTubers portray this Walmart experience as a rather romantic, “road nomad” sort of life. What I saw was more of a homeless community in some areas. Some vehicles didn’t move for days and the condensation on the windows gave them away as overnighters.
Generally, after the Walmarts closed for the night, things quieted down except for the Walmart in Franklin, North Carolina. Locals liked to use the empty parking lot to race their 4x4s and jacked-up trucks, occasionally congregating a little too close for comfort. After a while, they too called it a night.
Morning came and the parking lot started to stir again, first with employees, followed by earlybird shoppers. Gathering my toiletries, I strolled into Walmart, exchanging good mornings with the friendly staff and went about my morning ritual. Next I enjoyed a solitary breakfast at one of the town’s local eateries where, as an “out-of-towner,” I attracted some curious gazes.
My days centered around the local library, where I charged my electronics, caught up with routine computer duties and checked out what was happening in the world from which I was separated.
Nagging injuries plagued my wife for weeks into the journey until a serious spill marked the end of her challenging hike, for this attempt anyway.
Speaking for me, this was a rewarding experience. It reminded me how our lives can become routine, which can be comfortable, but that by venturing out in an unfamiliar, rural landscape leaves room for personal growth.
At times my wife and I were without communication with each other, and it was a toss-up as to who was worried more about the other.
Our grown children were also concerned and questioned our soundness of mind, occasionally threatening to put out a “Silver Alert” for one or both of us. Perhaps this was payback for all the sleepless nights we spent worrying about them.
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
