Alive and very well: Part One

I'm here in Chicago or more accurately Hinsdale, Illinois. A west suburb of the great city. I'm staying with my friend Andy and his wife Nancy in their fancy Penthouse apartment. I spent all day today in the city walking around and bearing witness to some wonderful and bizarre acts. I'm sure most of you are wondering how I got here so I'll update you on my itinerary. I left Denver at six in the morning with Michelle we traveled along I-70 and she cut me loose in Lawrence, Kansas. I then thumbed for an hour or two by the I-70E on ramp. I got picked up by a woman whose name I've since forgotten, she had just left her mother for whom she is now caring for since she has been recently widowed. I'll told her I was from Denver and she said she had just come from there. She said her brother had just been sentenced to 276 years in prison for repeat offenses. Some of which were Kidnapping and aggravated assault. I didn't inquire further about that. We just chatted until she dropped me at a small truck stop. I waited there about ten minutes before an independent trucker showed up.

Cecil took me all the way to somewhere in Missouri about ninety miles out of St. Louis and I asked to be let out at a Flying J so I could sleep. I was getting pretty tired since I had been up since four A.M. and I was making due with about three hours of sleep. Cecil and I shared some really good discussion about Puerto Rico, and his history there and about things in general. But as is the tradition of the Midwest he had to go and ruin a good thing with religion. I just sat in awe and silence as he made it very clear that unless you are what he deemed a Christian you were part of a cult. He told me about how women were the first to sin and that they are all inherently evil. He went on to degrade Blacks and also Hispanics and this was about the time that I decided I needed to part ways. So I asked if he could leave me at the next Flying J and said that I really appreciated the lift. I roamed a bit at the stop and found an old hotel in between two soybean fields and also a tiny forest that I couldn't reach due to a impressively thick field of stickers and tall grass. I bedded down under a tree by the lot and in some tall grass.

When I woke up I realized the importance of this moment. The act of me actually waking in a totally foreign place with no one I knew. I loved it. I was exhilarated by it. I packed my things, and headed for the cardboard bales. I cut off a flap and scrawled St. Louis on the front, and PLEASE on the back. I was at the on ramp for maybe twenty minutes when Pat picked me up. Pat was awesome. Pat listened to old hard rock, and he didn't bitch about his wife which seems to be very common among truckers, or at least the ones who pick me up. He told me a story about how he was up near Berthoud Pass outside of Denver when a Snowstorm shutdown the highway. He was waiting with a state trooper behind him for a salt truck to come. A semi on the west bound side lost control, crossed the median and plowed grill first into the front of Pats rig. He said he woke up in a mess of glass, radio equipment, and debris. He apparently uttered "How fast was I going when I nodded off?" to the trooper and then went unconscious. He said this was his only accident, ever. He is an owner/operator out of North Kansas City, Kansas. He said he loves it because he just drives for the fun of it, he doesn't even need the money.

Pat and I drove to Pontoon Beach, Illinois. Despite protest he bought me lunch and headed out for "Indy" or Indianapolis. I hung out around this stop for a good while and met an unsavory character from Ohio. Much like Cecil and other assholes he finds the need to utterly and obviously lie about shit constantly. Not exaggerate, lie. I'll never understand it, and I'll never find the patience for it. I found a good exit in the middle of a story about how he scared kids with a six foot long chainsaw in a pickup truck. He seemed to get the hint when I walked away mid sentence. I layed down on the concrete away from windows and watched the monarch butterflies flitter around the building in the afternoon sun. After a long while of lazily advertising my need for a ride I realized what I was doing wrong. I can't just sit next to a sign and look half asleep expecting a ride from someone. I need to be active in my pursuit, of course this was equally dangerous, if I came off as pushy I would surely and rightfully be rejected. So I politely ask drivers where they are headed. West or south, most will say. Can't take riders most others will say. Occasionaly, even when rejected they will persue conversation. Which honestly I adore.

The best truckers I have met haven't given me rides. Butch in Troy, Illinois for example. I had just been thrown out of a Pilot by a fatman with a lousy moustache and a red shirt three sizes too small, so I wandered accross the street to the TA. I walked up to Butch and asked him where he was headed. "North west" he said "otherwise I'd take you." He was waxing a big beautiful bright red semi adorned with ornamental rivets he described as "stuborn." He spent most of his time trying to get the wax off these little round rivet heads. He had just shared his aniversary with his wife and was going to actually celebrate it Tuesday with her. He has thee daughters, the youngest of which, 17, had problems with alcoholism since she was fourteen. He said she was just about through it he thought. I sure hope so. We talked for a long while and then I headed for the on ramp. I was there for a little while and then I got picked up by a Polish man, Christopher. The first thing he said to me was "I don't speak much English." We still shared some jokes and talked a good bit though.

He was a bit strange though because he left me right on the shoulder by Effingham, Illinois. I was bit startled by this and because I was still a bit fresh to the hitching thing, I didn't fight him on it. But looking back I should have asked for him to leave me in a more appropriate place. I walked up to the town and started wandering around. I ended up stashing my stuff in some bushes behind a bowling alley. I explored this small Interstate town, with only brand name establishments. There were three excpetions to this, a small motel, the bowling alley, and one restaurant. The rest of the town some twelve odd business were major. I bought a tub of yogurt for protein and a couple of beers. I hunkered down by my spot and enjoyed the evening thoroughly.