A fresh start for the social outcasts of white collar America

In the shadows of exotic Airbnb rentals, tables for one, and expat-friendly escort services lies a different type of world traveler pulled straight from the back corner of an office near you.

“Just laying low.”

This isn’t a response you’ll often hear from the stereotypical world traveler. Whether it be volcano hikes, deep-sea dives or lots of cocaine, the youthful and adventurous nomads of the world will find themselves doing almost anything other than laying low.

But there is another type of world traveler that exists—a subgroup of often middle-aged, often divorced beneficiaries of dead parent lotteries and remote work who struggle to pinpoint exactly how they spend their time abroad.

As you might imagine, this type of person doesn’t quite fit in with the backpackers they pass by at the tiendas de hard liquor. This is to be expected—even the most optimistic among them could hardly expect to contend with the exclusivity of youth.

But the challenge that exists lies in the fact that for many of these folks, they are still yet to find a place to fit in back home.

Across South America you can find them roaming around expat hubs in surprising quantities. When asked about their past, they tend to give vague accounts of places they don’t seem particularly fond of.

Jobs they didn’t like.

Coworkers they couldn’t stand.

“I guess I could go back for a bit… but who wants to deal with all that bullshit?”

These people aren't without charm. I spent 45 seconds on an elevator with a friendly man I met from Texas. 57 years old and 5’3 and a half, he walked with a slight gait and was quick to make jokes about the names of nearby states. For what he lacked in fuckability, he did make up for in cuteness.

As we said goodbye, he appeared equally as interested in chatting into the night as he did to return to the hotel room where he would spend the next 2-4 days in complete solitude, only to be disturbed by the food delivery immigrant at the usual hour. 

There's a palpable loneliness among this kind.

They also have a tendency to share wildly personal information within moments of meeting someone new—whether it be boasting about their wealth and/or the caliber of pussy they can buy (thanks US Dollar!) or unloading detailed accounts of their suffering.

Or sometimes both. A young guy at a Buenos Aires Meetup event waited less than 60 seconds to tell me about his struggles with sex addiction (Latin women were partially to blame).

Minutes later, a chubby man from Nebraska who moved “way down south” on a whim referenced an attempted throat slashing hate crime even faster. 

I met a mature model in Medellin who laid down a 290 second monologue about god knows what without a single pause for comment.

Stale stories locked and loaded—burning to be shared. But that requires someone willing to listen, and also to care. It dawned on me that once a person reaches a certain degree of loneliness, the former may be as good as it gets.

After gushing on about a personal matter, they often look at you with a slight sense of insecurity. Did I just overshare? I'm sorry? 

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The shared experience of these people seems to transcend age, race, and sexuality. A reminder that perhaps the social issues of the day affect a slim few in comparison to the deeply human needs not being met for much of our society.

There are people on the fringe of nearly every social group, hanging on by a thread typically stitched by an institutional affiliation. Classmates, Teammates, Coworkers. Random roommates whose paths have been woven into yours and bound by the terms of your apartment lease. 

As I witness an apparent exodus from lukewarm existences back home, it brings to mind that being on the fringes isn’t lost on these people.

Social hierarchies are complicated. Many of us have found ourselves on both sides of this dynamic: ingratiated into one group with a few fringe players, and on the outside of another where you are forced to feel that awful sensation of not fitting in and being pitied as a result.

Our lonely friends abroad appear to be desperate to escape the latter.

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There are outcast characters of all ages wandering the streets of these sun-soaked towns.

But they do not all share the same destiny.

For the younger travelers of this group, there are coworking spaces, hostels, and meetup events that will help fill the unoccupied space in their social calendars and Queen-size beds.

The case for optimism is more challenging with the older folks. Well into their 40s and yet to find a place to belong, their isolating habits do not bode well for meeting new people, least of which one another.

But if you compare this fate to the one they left behind, it does pose the question: is the uphill battle of searching for a new and invigorating life better than remaining in one where you are accepted by most but adored by none? 

It’s this invigoration that is easy to seek yet difficult to acquire—but they’ve set out on a journey in hopes of finding it nonetheless.

And I really hope they do.