I arrived in Joplin at night, after
leaving Des Moines, Iowa that morning. I had kept an eye on the
weather, and realized that it was going to rain that night, so I
squandered some of my hard earned cash on a cheap motel room. My
money was well spent; I watched the rain from the balcony.
The next morning, it was clear. I hiked
out to the highway, and found that there were two other hitchhikers
working the exit. Both of them were vagabonds—adult men who
appeared to travel as part of their lifestyle. They were about fifty
meters apart, and I hiked to a place beyond them, where a car would
see me only after seeing them.
About an hour later, beat up white
American car slowed down to take a look at the first vagabond, but
then passed him by. The then eyed the next one, and passed him by.
They saw me and pulled over. The car was kind of old, pretty dirty,
with some trash and stuff in the back seat. One of the things that
struck me as odd was the presence of a cheap turntable.
It was a couple that picked me up—A
man who appeared to be in his mid or late thirties, and his wife of
somewhat similar age. The wife was pretty large, and, as I discovered
later, missing one of her legs below the knee. At first, she
explained that she had lost it in Vietnam, where she was a nurse, but
then later said it was lost due to diabetes.
They were from Arkansas, some small
town near the Missouri line. Their language was very heavily
accented, and I struggled to grasp the meanings and nuances of their
dialect. Through careful listening, I learned that they had come up
from their town yesterday, and had spent last night in Joplin,
drinking at various bars. They were on their way to Oklahoma City, to
visit a relative.
We entered the Oklahoma turnpike
system, and made our way west. They asked me if I had any pot, and I
lied and told them no. After a while, they pulled over into a rest
area on the tollway. At that time, the rest areas of the
Oklahoma tollways had full service restaurants. My ride promptly got
a table and ordered a hearty breakfast. Once it came, they stirred
everything into one big pile on their plates, and dug in.
The restaurant was a classic example of
a truck stop, so I casually watched a tractor trailer park outside.
The truck driver jumped out and made his way to a bank of pay phones
in the back. A woman, accompanied by a four year old girl got out and
came into the restaurant. And came to our table.
She then proceeded to shout at my ride.
They responded in kind, and I sat there calmly eating my breakfast
while the other patrons watched. Their dialect was still heavy, but I
was able to ascertain that the woman had come up with them last night
to Joplin, and they had gotten separated while out cruising the bars.
After fighting, the calmed down, and
the woman and kid joined our table. I wondered if this was going to
be a problem with my ride, but they quickly rearranged things to fit
the three of us into the back seat. We continued onto Oklahoma City.
The girl sat between me and the woman, and I talked to both of them
for a while. The woman was vaguely attractive, and she seemed
interested in the college life that I was leading, though not
questioning why I was out hitchhiking.
I began to play with the girl, and she responded. We began to have fun, and then the woman put a stop to it. I didn't realize then that the woman was upset with the attention I was giving to her daughter instead of her.
I was dropped off in the middle of town, and it took me several hours to get to the right side. I finally did, but not before rejecting a ride from some aggressive looking kids. I finally got a ride from an oil field worker who dropped me off in a small town in western Oklahoma. I spent the night there in a roach invested motel room. I never remembered the name of that town, but I should have, as I ended up spending the most of the next day along the highway trying to get a ride—by far the longest time I had ever waited for a ride.
Wonderful to see Abby in the news! I am one of the unfortunate ones who is uabnle to give blood, but I used to volunteer at drives. It is so, so important to give blood and there is no better example of that than Abby.On a different note, my stepmother's sister was hospitalized in critical condition and needed blood. She was at a hospital that couldn't get blood from the Red Cross because there wasn't an affiliation between them and that particular hospital. Family members gave, but it wasn't enough, and she died. She was my age...only 31.If you are healthy enough to give blood, I hope that you will consider it. It really does save lives.Kelli Bosargeugottafriend.com
Posted by: Omu | September 27, 2012 at 01:55 AM