The last time I passed this sign was around 2:30 AM on February 15, 1995. I didn’t turn around to look at it as I walked by. It was too cold. And I was too focused on my mission.
This country road is 10 miles south of Asheville, NC. Last week I went back to look at it for the first time in almost 30 years.
It looked about how I remembered it, but older. The Ball Glass jar factory seemed abandoned. There are more houses on the road. And the ditch looks smaller than the one I remember hiding in when I saw headlights approaching on that cold February night.
At the end of the road, there’s a boys boarding school called Christ School. It’s not particularly religious, but they did require chapel attendance several times per week. The dress code was blue blazer, button down shirt, tie, and khaki pants. I didn’t want to wear that uniform, and I didn’t want to attend chapel. So, I didn’t. And they put me to work.
I had a lot of friends at Christ School. Maybe because nobody else wanted to follow the rules either. However, they were smarter than me. They realized towing the line meant less hassles. I didn’t connect the dots.
By February of my sophomore year, the faculty had me cornered. A stack of demerits piled up. Those turned into weekend work assignments. Instead of pleading for a solution, I stirred the pot.
Going home wasn’t an option. That’s a story for another time. I figured the only way I’d make it to summer was on the run.
My Escape Plan
The school issued a weekly cash allowance back then. Your parents decided how much you’d get and funded the account. I think mine was $20 per week.
The way it worked was the commissary clerk kept a hand-written ledger. Most kids bought sodas, chips, gum, and took the balance in change. I passed on the treats and took the whole $20 in cash every week.
I realized the other kids wanted contraband. Back then it was chewing tobacco, “dip.” Some kids smoked cigarettes, but the staff could easily smell it on you. That’s no good. The dip was cleaner. But getting the stuff was tough for teenage boys with no car.
With a decent wad saved up I asked one of the day students if he could give me a ride on a weekend. It’s not allowed, I’d be AWAL (absent without leave). I told him I’d go for a run and meet him outside the gate.
We went to a flea market in Asheville where I bought cases of dip, 10 cans wrapped together. I’d store them in my footlocker until late in the week. Anyone who had some from a trip off campus the weekend before ran low by midweek. That created scarcity. I’d unload my supply at double the cost.
Between this racket and other thrifty schemes, I had ~$750 by midyear. In the early-90s, that was a decent amount of cash.
It was certainly enough to get me out of town. I knew because I called U.S. Airways to ask. The dorm had a payphone. The payphone had a copy of the local Yellow Pages dangling by a chain. I called the 800 number listed for reservations.
If you’re under 30, you may not appreciate what it was like flying in the early 90s. It was a lot like catching a bus. People didn’t have internet. You could call to make an airline reservation, or just show up and pay cash. That’s what I planned to do. And it worked.
Play it Cool
U.S. Air was one of the only ways to fly out of the tiny Asheville airport back then. From what I saw last week, things haven’t changed much.
The first connecting flight to Charlotte left at 6:00 AM.
Everything had to go exactly right for me to pull this off. And I had to get out. There was no way I’d survive the spring.
I did not tell anyone I was leaving. My roommate Matt Daniels was very cool. He was smart, but had a stoner type of personality. He would wake up, notice I wasn’t there, and head to breakfast without me. No problem on that front.
Same goes for breakfast. It’s disorganized. That meant the first sign of me missing would be at the 8:00 AM assembly. I had to get on that 6:00 AM flight.
The terminal opened at 4:30 AM. Nearly frozen, I wanted to get inside right away. But I also needed to look like a regular person showing up to take a trip, not someone who just walked 5 miles in freezing conditions.
Around 5:00 AM the counter agent showed up. I calmly approached, ready to conduct business.
I wanted to go to Florida. My best friend Zach at the boarding school was from St Augustine. I figured I’d be there when he went home for spring break in about a month. We’d have a big party and everything would be great. Short-term thinking at its finest.
I asked for a ticket to Jacksonville Florida. The clerk banged on an old, cream-colored IBM keyboard. She asked for my name. I knew the school would check with Greyhound, Amtrak and the only airline in town as soon as they realized I was gone. I couldn’t use my real name.
Anticipating this, I had a fake ID. I made it in the school computer lab.
Driver’s license cards were simply laminated back then. I took my printed fake to Blockbuster Video, where the staff laminated its membership cards. I offered the most negligent looking employee $20 to run it through the lamination machine. It worked.
$200 cash was all it took to get on that flight. I knew if I got to the connecting flight in Charlotte, I’d be free.
Life On the Run
I made it to Florida. I took a city bus from the airport to downtown Jacksonville. Then a Greyhound to St. Augustine. Things didn’t quite go as planned after that.
Within minutes of stepping off the bus I ran into trouble. I saw wet concrete on the sidewalk. I bent town to memorialize my arrival. When I stood up there was a local cop staring at me.
He asked what I was doing in town. I had to think up something plausible. I told him I was here to visit the Landis family. Turns out, he knew the father, Pete. He said he’d call his office and let him know I’d arrived.
It was news to them. However, they liked me. They’d also heard about my escape when their son called home the day before. They took me in, let me sleep, and offered to let me stay for a few months. They charged me $50 a week and made me get a job. I chose TCBY frozen yogurt, which was popular at the time.
Seeing the school, the old country road, and the airport last week got me thinking about this time in my life. I’m older now. I hope I’m wiser. I know I’m in a better place.
Things make more sense as you age. I never liked school. A long list of learning disabilities didn’t help. Problems at home made things worse. What I know now is organized learning in a classroom wasn’t for me. I learned with my hands, with my eyes, and by experiencing things. With no fear of failure, I’d try anything.
In the end, I wasn’t a good member of the herd. While the A-students at Christ School probably went on to become task masters in corporate America, I had a different path. I was an outsider at the school, and still am today.
The Outsider Advantage
The herd is blind.
It’s comfortable being accepted in a group. It feels good. People move together like a pack. If the herd goes right, they follow. An individual member wouldn’t dare go left.
That means herd members value being in the group more than any better outcome they’d get taking a chance on their own. Guaranteed mediocrity is good enough for them.
The outsider on the other hand can’t exist in the herd. The herd goes left, he goes right. In his mind, whatever is to the left gets divvied up between the entire herd. Whatever is right, well that’s all his. It seems worth the risk.
I don’t know if this is wise. There’s stability in the herd. Herd members make great employees, husbands, little league coaches. Outsiders on the other hand can’t stop questioning, exploring, learning, wondering what’s over that next hill.
After all these years, I know one thing. You can’t argue with your wiring. If you’re meant to be in the herd, go with it. And if you’re an outsider, embrace the adventure.
What The Herd Can’t See Today
It’s hard to go at it alone. Being alone makes most people uncomfortable. That’s especially true when it comes to investments.
The first time people hear a new idea they resist it. That resistance doesn’t feel good. Even for seasoned professionals.
It’s worse for non-professionals. If you want friends, say you like Apple, Tesla, and NVDIA. You’ll refinance the family mortgage when the Fed lowers rates in a few months, and you think crypto is the future.
This gets you invited to the garage for a beer, but it’s hogwash. You didn’t make any of these bets until headlines made it comfortable. The truth is, thinking scares you. You might swing and miss, just imagine what people would say then…
The problem is, 20 years in the herd means your sole skill is staying in good standing with the herd. Spotting a trend early is impossible at that point.
For instance, see if you notice the difference between the two photos below. Who’s missing? Who’s more excited?
One group has its hands high in the air, the other looks like it simply hopes to survive…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Tucker Letter to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.