On a mildly warm evening in early October, we were ordering craft beer, seated on a patio in Portland, Oregon. The waiter asked for our I.D.s. There were six of us. After reading Florida, New York and Missouri licenses, he gave us a skeptical look. No, they were not fake. Five months earlier, we were strangers. We were each on a journey back to our respective states from a magical place that had brought us together. On this day, though, we were companions and best friends, each in love with wandering and spending time with free-spirited people, enjoying the final meal we would spend together.