Stumble out of the bar alone after singing the last song on Karaoke Night. No one really responded. It's one of those nights, in a town far from home, when no one knows you or cares to know you. A sharp contrast to the magic and fast-friendships formed the last time I passed through here. Maybe it's something about the stink I give off when I'm alone and in my head.
Outside, the thick warm night and a slight hot breeze. I'm restless and a little drunk. Need to wait a while before attempting to drive back to the hotel. Open season on drunk driving Yankees here, I'm betting. Hungry. Food will help sop it up. A couple doors down is a 24-hour, Texas-born burger
joint I've yet to try, so I do.
The man at the counter is John. There's a crew of at least ten working inside and a line at the drive through window. John asks me how I'm doing so I tell him and ask him in return. His day started at 6 AM (it's now 2 AM). He is working his third shift of the day - one job to the next one and then on to this. His face and voice are calm and sincere. His eyes are tired, they hold mine the entire time.
He's got three children to feed. One was actually fathered by his cousin, he tells me, but she came home after awhile and they patched things up. Now he's got three jobs - fast food and retail - all right at about the Texas minimum wage. There's not a lot of time for sleep. He's not complaining, but his eyes... suddenly it seems a little harder to breathe, like there's not enough air in this room.
"You been in the military?" he asks.
"Marines" I answer.
"Semper Fi. So was I."
We smile and shake hands. We were in about 20 years apart.
"Hawaii was real nice."
We look around us quietly. He looks me in the eyes, seems to shrug without moving.
"Ain't nothin' but a thing, man."
"That's right, nothing but a thing, brother."
The hamburger is a good one, and I eat it in the parking lot leaning against the rental car. A bedraggled young woman walks up and asks if I can give her a ride. Her teeth are gone and her eyes are crazy, she's moving toward me in a kind of zig zag. Meth.
"No sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
But I am.
Tomorrow, I'll board a plane back to another life.
John will stay here to work another shift, and then another right after that.
I'm hoping he won't notice the thing about the air in there, but I know that he already does.
Outside, the thick warm night and a slight hot breeze. I'm restless and a little drunk. Need to wait a while before attempting to drive back to the hotel. Open season on drunk driving Yankees here, I'm betting. Hungry. Food will help sop it up. A couple doors down is a 24-hour, Texas-born burger
joint I've yet to try, so I do.
The man at the counter is John. There's a crew of at least ten working inside and a line at the drive through window. John asks me how I'm doing so I tell him and ask him in return. His day started at 6 AM (it's now 2 AM). He is working his third shift of the day - one job to the next one and then on to this. His face and voice are calm and sincere. His eyes are tired, they hold mine the entire time.
He's got three children to feed. One was actually fathered by his cousin, he tells me, but she came home after awhile and they patched things up. Now he's got three jobs - fast food and retail - all right at about the Texas minimum wage. There's not a lot of time for sleep. He's not complaining, but his eyes... suddenly it seems a little harder to breathe, like there's not enough air in this room.
"You been in the military?" he asks.
"Marines" I answer.
"Semper Fi. So was I."
We smile and shake hands. We were in about 20 years apart.
"Hawaii was real nice."
We look around us quietly. He looks me in the eyes, seems to shrug without moving.
"Ain't nothin' but a thing, man."
"That's right, nothing but a thing, brother."
The hamburger is a good one, and I eat it in the parking lot leaning against the rental car. A bedraggled young woman walks up and asks if I can give her a ride. Her teeth are gone and her eyes are crazy, she's moving toward me in a kind of zig zag. Meth.
"No sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
But I am.
Tomorrow, I'll board a plane back to another life.
John will stay here to work another shift, and then another right after that.
I'm hoping he won't notice the thing about the air in there, but I know that he already does.
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