The Lidgleys Visit
Wednesday came, and along with it, the Lidgleys, Alyne and Mike. I was waiting at the Dominos with John. The Lidgleys had made a wrong turn and were delayed. John offered me a sandwich, and I was eating it, when they pulled up, ready to go for lunch. We found The Golden Corral, despite the "directions" which we were given. I had all that I could eat, and a wide variety, so as to obtain trace minerals and vitamins found only in things, such as pickled watermelon rind.
We talked about many things, including Karrie. It was a good meal, the vegetables were fresh, and they were very nice poeple. It was hard to talk about my plans, because I was still formulating them. They seemed to be wondering how I got where I am in life.
They dropped me off, along with a large bag of provisions. I hid the bag behind the Kangaroo, and then went off to find a place to pitch the tent. I have been playing Russian Roulette with the clouds for too long. I had to walk two miles toward the county line, before I found a spot that had room for the tent. I buried the cartons of cigarettes and left some of my clothing there. I then started walking the 2 miles back to where the tent and the rest of the stuff was, grabbing the stuff behind the Kangaroo along the way.
The next morning, I decided to explore further back into the woods where I have been staying. I found that it went back at least a couple hundred yards. Then I discovered an abandoned campsite. There was a park bench, a trash receptacle, and not much else. I wondered if the inhabitants moved out, or were ferreted out by The Law. I decided to pitch my tent in a spot, not as far back as them, in case the cops check there regularly. I got the thing pitched on smooth, level ground, then I hid Karrie's backpack, which now contains all the stuff I brought, along with all the stuff the Lidgleys gave us. I moved it away from the tent, so that if the tent is found by a thief, maybe the backpack will go unnoticed.
I Play The Interstate
I then started walking towards the bus station. I caught the Orange bus out to where the Interstate crosses Rt. 200.
"We Don't Have Any Quarters!"
I stopped at the same store and the same foreigner said that the same restroom is "still out of order." This time, he added something about his being tired of cleaning it up. I guess he has had some messy people who carry backpacks and guitars before.
I got a lager and went to the counter. His wife, (I assume) told me to hurry up because of "other customers." There was nobody behind me in line. My total was $1.80, and I was fishing for a nickel in my pocket, so that she could give me back a quarter, instead of two dimes when she scooped up the two dollars and shoved two dimes at me. I had found the nickel and said "I was going to give you this, so I could get a quarter, etc" She said "We don't have any quarters!"
I just left. You can't argue with some foreigners. They must have been having a bad day, what with the restroom out of order, and no quarters; I almost pitied them.
I fortified myself with the lager and then went out on the median and made 20 bucks in about an hour. Then, it was starting to get dark, and so I left. I discovered that the last bus out had left at 7 pm. It was 7:40 pm, and so I started the 6 mile walk back to the tent. I was out of cigarettes, and didn't want to walk two more miles to get another pack, so I spent 4 bucks on one. I will sell one of the packs of Marlboros for 4 bucks and re-coup it.
8 More Days Here
I can't see staying here much longer. The bottom is going to drop out of the one Interstate ramp, sooner or later. Now, I go to play at the Marathon, since the cigarettes are hidden out that way. I will also write Karrie another letter.
Karrie Letter Returned
Of all the rules of the jail which are enforced inconsistently, there is one stating that a letter sent to an inmate must bear the "jail number" of the incarcerated. The money which I sent to Karrie a week ago has shown up at my mom's, returned. Poor Karrie is sitting in there and almost three weeks have gone by without her having heard from me. She must feel forsaken.