Hitchhiking part 1
I was trying to write about people without using gendered pronouns to see how that would fly. I was getting there, but in wanting to describe our hitchhiking experience part of me feels that they (and other details) would help. So I’m going to drop that for now…
Friday we were waiting by the side of the road (cue Tom Petty’s “Crawling Back to You”) except of heading to Los Angeles with dirty hands and worn out knees, we were heading to Memphis with oversized backpacks and a bag of bananas.
The decision to hitchhike came after we exhausted our options, asked everyone we’d met in Little Rock, posted on Craigslist, etc. We made cardboard signs the night before.
Micah with his simple, to the point “MEMPHIS” with a star and smiley face. Me (having had a bit much moonshine) tried to think of what would accompany his sign the best. I thought if I was driving what would I see that would make me want to stop. So I wrote out in large block letters: MAKE SOME FRIENDS. It made sense at the time. In the morning, not so much.
Penelope was kind enough to let us out at a place it thought we would have the best chance. We were there for a little over an hour. We got some friendly waves, a few people flashing peace signs, which warmed my heart. But no one stopped.
Eventually Penelope came back with Jeremy in tow and we headed to a nearby Waffle House to figure out where to go from there.
Penelope and Jeremy suggested going to a truck stop. Truckers are used to picking up people, they probably could use some company, it seemed to be the best bet. We drove ten minutes and went into a truck stop that had an area for dining, a little mini mart, gas station, etc.
We tried waiting outside for a bit and asking people going in and out but no luck.
Penelope and Jeremy were kind enough to wait around for us til we could fin someone and there was an arcade there so that worked out alright.
I thought what would be the best way to reach as many people as possible? Certainly someone would be going to Memphis, but it’s kind of hard going around asking people, and Micah did that more than I, and when we’d been waiting before he’d gone down to the gas station and asked people there, none of whom were headed in our direction, but he met some interesting people nonetheless.
I decided maybe I should go as the cashier at the mini mart to see if she could announce it over the loud speaker: reach as many people as possible. For those of us who are inclined to get onstage I think this a common thing to think about: how many people can I reach?
I waited in line and I saw our driver-to-be, but was afraid to ask him directly. I got a good vibe from him, I can’t say what it was exactly, just that he wasn’t off-putting. Not a huge guy either, although bigger than Micah and I for sure, but not scary. He ended up getting into a different line, but he was still close enough to overhear when I asked the cashier about making an announcement.
She asked her manager who said no, but later on made an announcement urging the sale of the pumpkin Reese’s cups (go figure). The truck driver, whose name we would find out was Patrick, overheard Memphis and said he was going there.
“You stuck?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“I can take ya.”
“You got room for two?”
“Yep. I have an 18 wheeler.”
That is a lot of fucking wheels. He said he’d be leaving in half an hour (and actually it was sooner than that. He snuck into the theater for a bit with his bag of chips and extra large soda (yes, there are theaters for truckers), and came out maybe ten minutes later.
We walked to his truck, which I didn’t even get a full view of til we got out. The license plate said Ontario and I knew we were in good hands. I hate that shit, I hate labels and all that, but for some reason the fact he was Canadian (and as we would find out from him, also of Native American ancestry) made me feel safer. I am a hypocrite. Go figure.
