Pokémon Go sucks if you live in the middle of nowhere

Pokémon Go came out early this July and I was pumped. Everyone was pumped. Finally, we had a chance to catch Pokémon just like we had always imagined.

Facebook feeds flooded with images of people capturing the tiny creatures and leveling up at unprecedented speeds. I immediately downloaded the app, created a new Gmail account specifically for the game, and spent over an hour dressing and naming my character.

I was ready to catch ‘em all.

That was, until, I realized that I could catch none of them. Because I live in the middle of nowhere.

There were all my friends from Atlanta, New York, Chicago, living it up with all the fancy jobs and IKEAs. And now they have the Pokémon on top of everything else.

But they will never match the journey I took.

I started on a long walk away from my house, not finding anything. Although, it was nice to see a local fountain serve as a Pokestop. Even if the photo they used isn’t true to life at all.

On the long walk back home, I caught a Pidgey (a.k.a. a freaking bird with nothing special about it). I was a little disappointed, but I figured that if I wanted to catch em all, I was going to have to go out into the world. Like a true Pokémon Master.

But I don’t have a car yet, so I asked my mom to drive me.

I located a gym by the local ER (not the best location to stop and play a game, but no one was dying at the moment so I guess it’s okay). However, I wasn’t at a high enough level to play there. Because I had only a humble starter Charmander and a Pidgey to my name. Because Pokémon Go only exists to remind you of the futility of life: that you need 10 years experience for every entry level job and 10 Pokémon you can’t find to fight in a gym.

Because life is hell.

Disappointed, but not discouraged, I went to thoroughly explore my neighborhood: every last cul-de-sac, driveway, and yard. At least, I went into people’s yards who I knew wouldn’t mind. This is the South, after all, and you don’t want to mess with a stranger’s lawn.

I brought my brother with me, convincing him that this was the most amazing game ever. We walked up and down the hills in the horrid Tennessee heat, hoping for something…anything.

Whenever I thought I saw pixelated leaves rustling on my phone’s screen, I ran to them pathetically. I ran in circles next to my neighbor’s lawn. I almost knocked over a man’s 36-pack of Mountain Dew while running past his driveway. I ran in the trees behind our house. My brother eventually abandoned me, leaving me with the words, “I don’t want to be a Pokémon master anymore.”

I was losing it. Every time I thought there was a Pokémon to catch, it vanished into the ether. My phone’s data was dwindling. I don’t want to see that bill next month.

Eventually, I just took to looking for any sign of life that surrounded me.

Shortly after filming that video, my neighbor, a man who has seen many amazing and horrible things in his days on this Earth, asked, “Are you okay?”

No, Billy. No I’m not.