VI. IT GETS WEIRD, REALLY WEIRD
35.255651,-81.262845
NO LOVE FOR A VETERAN
A few miles past my hitchhiking attempt, I came across the UNITED VETERANS OF AMERICA: Post #1.
By this time, my water supplies are dwindling. Out of one liter and three 16 ounce water bottles, I have only one 16 ounce bottle of water left.
I approached the front door of the UNITED VETERANS OF AMERICA, and knocked. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I knocked again, but still no answer. As I was about to walk away, I heard someone open a canned drink. I turned around and knocked again.
A few miles past my hitchhiking attempt, I came across the UNITED VETERANS OF AMERICA: Post #1.
By this time, my water supplies are dwindling. Out of one liter and three 16 ounce water bottles, I have only one 16 ounce bottle of water left.
I approached the front door of the UNITED VETERANS OF AMERICA, and knocked. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I knocked again, but still no answer. As I was about to walk away, I heard someone open a canned drink. I turned around and knocked again.
35.255651,-81.262845
After being blatantly ignored, I gave up and started to walk away. That's when I saw the pick-up. It was the same pick-up that passed me earlier, honking and waving.
In the picture, you'll notice the pick-up directly under the sign.
Frustrated, and admittedly pissed, I grabbed my gear and left.
I decided this shortcut isn't working for me, so I took the next left. I walked to I85, and found me a spot to camp for the nite. There was a store nearby, so I walked over and refilled my water bottles.
In the picture, you'll notice the pick-up directly under the sign.
Frustrated, and admittedly pissed, I grabbed my gear and left.
I decided this shortcut isn't working for me, so I took the next left. I walked to I85, and found me a spot to camp for the nite. There was a store nearby, so I walked over and refilled my water bottles.
35.26619,-81.256177
I returned to my campsite and put my bottled waters away. I grabbed some clean clothes, baby wipes, and my razor, and headed back to the store.
After a shit-shower-n-shave, I headed back to my gear. I was pretty exhausted, and a bit discouraged about not being able to find a ride since entering the most military friendly state in the nation.
I broke down my gear, and decided to rest here for the night. I didn't even bother trying to thumb for a ride.
While I was resting, a state trooper pulled up to the on-ramp. We exchanged nods, and he pulled out his speed detector. He didn't stick around long; with lights flashing, he took off after his victim within minutes.
SOME THINGS, YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE UP
The sun was beginning to set, and I was already set up for the night, when a red Pontiac Grand-Am stopped nearby on the on-ramp. I looked over, and the man in the drivers seat waived me over to him. I got up and jogged over to his window. We went through the customary introductions and typical questions. He offered me a ride to I40, and I explained it would take me about five minutes to pack up. He agreed to wait, and I began to hustle.
After putting my gear into the trunk of his car, I entered the back seat. The man introduced me to his son, sitting in the passenger seat. As we sat there, planning the exact route to I40, a cop pulled up to see what was going on. We informed the cop we were trying to get to I40, and the cop offered some directions. The cop led us to our first exit, and it was a straight shot to I40 from there.
Once the cop was gone, the man stated, "I was praying for God to guide me in His service when I saw you. God told me to stop."
I thanked him for stopping. Over the next hour, the man talked only about God. Eventually I told him about my church-going, Christian-school-attending past.
After about an hour of Bible thumping, we arrived at a Hess Truck Stop. We stopped in the front parking lot, and the driver asked if he could pray for me. I agreed, and we exited the car for his prayer. He started to pray, and his right hand found my left shoulder. After a minute of prayer, his left hand found my forehead. Suddenly, he began to speak in gibberish, what some call tongues. He removed his left hand from my forehead, and began to speak normally. Then his left hand found my chest, and the gibberish flooded out his mouth, again. This went on, in the front parking lot of the truck stop, for about four or five eternally long minutes.
After the prayer was over, he opened the trunk of his car, and I grabbed my gear. I set my gear on the ground, and he began to talk about our paths crossing, and providence. He accused me of being an angel of God, and I told him we are all capable of being angels of God. His face began to change, as if he had just been hit by a life-changing epiphany. Right before my eyes, this man began to cry. He fell to his knees, in front of the truck stop, and began to sob. I looked around the parking lot, and noticed we had started garnering some attention. I looked over to the man's son, whom was still sitting in the passenger seat of the car. He was holding up a cigarette, offering it to me. I held up a finger to say, 'hold on a moment.'
After a few minutes of this man sobbing, he started to get back to his feet. He put his hand up, asking for assistance, and I obliged. After much effort on his part, he stood up, straight. Snot was hanging from his nose, and his eyes were full of tears. He wiped his face with his right hand, and wiped it on his pants. Then, seemingly oblivious, he offered his right hand in a handshake.
I looked at his hand, then into his eyes, and said, "You just covered that hand with your snot, dude."
In absolute defiance of common sense, he declared, "The snot, and tears, are anointed. It is blessed snot."
While chuckling about the whole situation, I decided I'll just go wash my hands, and I shook his hand. Suddenly, he pulled my right hand closer to him, and his left hand came around and embraced me in an awkward hug.
"I love you, brother," he whispered.
He started to quiver, as if crying, and I pulled away. Luckily, he took the hint and let go. I looked the man in the eyes, and told him I have to find a camp site, and we must part ways. I walked over to the passenger side of the car, and took the cigarette his son had offered several minutes earlier.
After returning to my gear, and lighting my cigarette, the faith-healer pulled off. I walked to the back of the truck stop, happy the situation was now over. I dropped my gear in a shadow and walked into the truck stop to wash my hands.
Finally, I was able to lay down and get some rest. What a day!
After a shit-shower-n-shave, I headed back to my gear. I was pretty exhausted, and a bit discouraged about not being able to find a ride since entering the most military friendly state in the nation.
I broke down my gear, and decided to rest here for the night. I didn't even bother trying to thumb for a ride.
While I was resting, a state trooper pulled up to the on-ramp. We exchanged nods, and he pulled out his speed detector. He didn't stick around long; with lights flashing, he took off after his victim within minutes.
SOME THINGS, YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE UP
The sun was beginning to set, and I was already set up for the night, when a red Pontiac Grand-Am stopped nearby on the on-ramp. I looked over, and the man in the drivers seat waived me over to him. I got up and jogged over to his window. We went through the customary introductions and typical questions. He offered me a ride to I40, and I explained it would take me about five minutes to pack up. He agreed to wait, and I began to hustle.
After putting my gear into the trunk of his car, I entered the back seat. The man introduced me to his son, sitting in the passenger seat. As we sat there, planning the exact route to I40, a cop pulled up to see what was going on. We informed the cop we were trying to get to I40, and the cop offered some directions. The cop led us to our first exit, and it was a straight shot to I40 from there.
Once the cop was gone, the man stated, "I was praying for God to guide me in His service when I saw you. God told me to stop."
I thanked him for stopping. Over the next hour, the man talked only about God. Eventually I told him about my church-going, Christian-school-attending past.
After about an hour of Bible thumping, we arrived at a Hess Truck Stop. We stopped in the front parking lot, and the driver asked if he could pray for me. I agreed, and we exited the car for his prayer. He started to pray, and his right hand found my left shoulder. After a minute of prayer, his left hand found my forehead. Suddenly, he began to speak in gibberish, what some call tongues. He removed his left hand from my forehead, and began to speak normally. Then his left hand found my chest, and the gibberish flooded out his mouth, again. This went on, in the front parking lot of the truck stop, for about four or five eternally long minutes.
After the prayer was over, he opened the trunk of his car, and I grabbed my gear. I set my gear on the ground, and he began to talk about our paths crossing, and providence. He accused me of being an angel of God, and I told him we are all capable of being angels of God. His face began to change, as if he had just been hit by a life-changing epiphany. Right before my eyes, this man began to cry. He fell to his knees, in front of the truck stop, and began to sob. I looked around the parking lot, and noticed we had started garnering some attention. I looked over to the man's son, whom was still sitting in the passenger seat of the car. He was holding up a cigarette, offering it to me. I held up a finger to say, 'hold on a moment.'
After a few minutes of this man sobbing, he started to get back to his feet. He put his hand up, asking for assistance, and I obliged. After much effort on his part, he stood up, straight. Snot was hanging from his nose, and his eyes were full of tears. He wiped his face with his right hand, and wiped it on his pants. Then, seemingly oblivious, he offered his right hand in a handshake.
I looked at his hand, then into his eyes, and said, "You just covered that hand with your snot, dude."
In absolute defiance of common sense, he declared, "The snot, and tears, are anointed. It is blessed snot."
While chuckling about the whole situation, I decided I'll just go wash my hands, and I shook his hand. Suddenly, he pulled my right hand closer to him, and his left hand came around and embraced me in an awkward hug.
"I love you, brother," he whispered.
He started to quiver, as if crying, and I pulled away. Luckily, he took the hint and let go. I looked the man in the eyes, and told him I have to find a camp site, and we must part ways. I walked over to the passenger side of the car, and took the cigarette his son had offered several minutes earlier.
After returning to my gear, and lighting my cigarette, the faith-healer pulled off. I walked to the back of the truck stop, happy the situation was now over. I dropped my gear in a shadow and walked into the truck stop to wash my hands.
Finally, I was able to lay down and get some rest. What a day!