Continuing to post past past drafts. I started to write this on 6/20/2011 ^_^
Brian. Or it could have been Bryan. Or Breyeanne. I am not really sure. And I will probably never know. Last night I was refueling at a Wawa that apparently exists behind my parents house now when I was approached by a scruffy lookin’ feller who asked for a ride to Royal Farms (another gas station a couple miles North). I said sure, finished fueling, and drove him there. Then he asked me to buy him some food while he was waiting for “his girl.”
He got a couple pounds of chicken fingers and some mountain dew, talked to a “cousin” that was in the store too, and then we waited together in the car. By this time I realized through our conversation that he was very drunk and currently homeless and out of work, and he had just met “his girl” that night. What. So, after repeatedly asking him not to smoke in my car, he finally started smoking in my car and immediately started to fall asleep with a cigarette in his mouth. Adventures.
So, while trying to keep him awake, I kept dialing the number for his cousin and for “his girl.” Nobody answered, so I told him that I needed to go and after much drunken discussion, I finally got him to agree to let me drive him to his parents house, even though he isn’t welcome there. It was a chilly night but he said he could sleep out with the dogs and not bother his parents. This was becoming a weird night. Anyway, after driving out into nowhere for fifteen minutes, he finally pointed to a house and I dropped him off and said good night and good luck and gave him some bus money. I learned a lot about Brian.
It also gave me time to think and pray about my life. I have so much and need so little. I am fine helping others when they have a desire to change their circumstances or when they have no other options. I am against people abusing the government and taking my money from a bureaucratically-bogged down system called welfare or unemployment. We need reform, and we need local governments and citizens to take charge of feeding and clothing and housing the hungry and the helpless, so that they can get back on their feet and return the favor to their local economy by working and living and being honest people.
Anyway. I have gotten into the habit of driving hitchhikers around. It is probably not the safest hobby. When I finally dropped him off at his disowned parents house an hour and a half after we met, this is where he brought me:
Basically, a graveyard of tractors and trailers and other assorted machinery. A bit frightening to be there alone with just him. That’s all.