Separation of Tent and Stake.

This story is a bit coarse so take warning.

I had fully realized after being dropped of at the Greyhound station that I was shit out of luck. I was freezing, and I met a young girl in the truck stop who lent me a bright orange poncho and wrapped me in a sheet. She was a sweetheart but goodness was she lost. The poncho/wet-sheet combo was not working so I bought a $13 blanket that was hardly worth more then $3. I was really missing my hoodie and all my other things at this point but there was nothing I could do. All of my possessions were no longer mine to use, they were miles and miles away. I kept recounting the events of the day in my head and couldn't believe them. Not at all. I had met him at a gas station in Port St. Lucie. I had evaluated my options, an empty truck, and old woman, and him. So I walked up to him and tapped on his window. "Please don't be asking for fucking money." No I don't panhandle I said. He asked to see if I was carrying any weapons and I show him that I wasn't so I put my stuff in his Chevy and we drove North for Ft. Pierce.

He said it seemed strange that I would just pack up and leave. I kept trying to explain to him the circumstances surrounding my leave but it didn't sink in until we were eating lunch at the Flying J and his cellphone didn't stop ringing. We talked for a half hour or so and then he decided he was going to take the day off. We kept splitting six packs of beer and then we drove to Hutchinson Island. We kept talking about what it was like to be in my situation and he became increasingly anxious and frustrated with his. We sat on the beach and he complained about how monotonous his life is and I assured him he had his blessings but he disagreed. We drove to a BP gas station on Avenue D and Highway 1. It was a strange situation unfolding.

The guy 'Jean' walked up to us and I rolled down my window to see what he wanted. He leans in and looks at me and says "I know you, we were in Hollywood Jail together." This being untrue I say I was never in Jail, anywhere, ever. He looks at my new acquaintance and repeats his mantra. Driver says oh yeah I know you, playing along. Driver gets out and walks over to him and they got out of earshot so I still have no clue of what they said to each other. But Jean ended up getting in the Chevy with us and directing us to his house. We were deep in the ghetto now and Driver was getting really nervous. Driver slowly gets coaxed inside the ghetto and the house and I follow. So were all sitting around a kitchen table and everyone is nervous as hell except me and Cynthia, Jeans sister. So I am getting more and more confused by the situation. The black guy Jean takes out a couple of white nuggets and rolls them into a joint. I say "Those are crack rocks, I'm out" and I walk outside and wait for Driver.

I find out shortly that Driver has decided to cheat on the wife he said was so lovely earlier. Hes going to find a whore. I tell him not to leave me and he assures me he wont. He returns after a half hour later and I get in the truck. Jean doesn't like that I have picked the front seat, confused and now angry I foolishly decide I don't want to give it to him. His friend pulls me out of the SUV and tells me to sit down. I tell him I prefer to stand. I tell Driver not to let them walk all over him. This offends Jean's friend and he asks me why I feel this way and I try to explain but its like trying to talk into a bullhorn. Driver meanwhile is in a full panic and is telling me not to express my opinions in "the hood" and that I will get beaten. I try to reassure him that I'll be fine. Driver and Jean leave to get Gin and Juice. They never return. It starts to get late and my cool wears off so by now I am pretty concerned I won't ever see Driver or my Pack again. I mention that I might call the police and next thing I know I am being whisked away to the outskirts of town. Jean's friend tells me that I probably regret saying that word, police, and that I need to get out of the car. I tell him that I'm not getting out because I have no idea where I am but he insists. This goes on for about ten minutes and then he says that he can drive somewhere where they'll only ask once. So I get out.

Now I'm figuring its time for the police. I've done all I can to avoid it but now I have no choice. So I call them and wait, and a single officer shows up I tell him just enough of the story so I don't incriminate anyone because Christ as soon as they find out I'm a witness to something they'll threaten me with being an accessory until I cave. So he drives me to the BP where we met Jean and we ask the clerk for the security camera footage and he tells us that the cameras are fake, every last one of them. So the cop takes me back to where he found me and I thank him for his help. By now I'm really pissed off and I'm willing to try anything to get my stuff back so I walk back into the ghetto. Bad fucking idea. Apparently despite me never having done anything to these assholes they decide I'm scum and that I'm a cop. So they slowly but surely become increasingly violent and unpredictable. One woman swears I'm a cop for sure. "I knows 'em when I sees 'em." she screams in my face. "He'll have our neighborhood burning by tammara! I'll kill him myself!" Well apparently you don't 'knows 'em'. I ask the clerk of the store that I've taken refuge in for the phone, he tells me hes already dialed 911. He tells the dispatcher where I am and I tell her I need to be escorted out immediately and that my life is in danger. Two cops show up inside of a minute and one of them is a real squat Latino, really muscular. This struck me as completely necessary for him to survive his beat. He took my ID and my story and drove me to the Greyhound station.