Rain, beer, and In-N-Out

~Saturday 5/20~ Morning

The bar turned out ok.
I played a few rounds of pool with Monica, a bartender @ the Shanty in Eka. She bought me a drink and we hob-knobbed a bit. Spent the latter of the evening talking with Andy, a firefighter from Eugene. A former smoke jumper!
I left before drinking too much; I had a roof to climb!
Another step deeper into the mystical realms of the hobo.
It was all very exciting!

I grabbed a tall boy and some chex mix from a gas station and made my way up.
A noisy push of the dumpster and a precarious balancing act across a decaying awning and Eureka! A big open roof with a nice incline to sleep on in the far corner.

It was a perfectly charming night.
The summer triangle winked at me from a cloudless universe, shooting stars suggested this way or that.
So I got stoned and drank my Pabst, smug as a bug.
But then, Sweet Jesus, the thought fell on me all at once:
rooftop
cheap beer
the simple thrill of travel on the EZ...

Had I become a HOBO?!
What would my parents think?

Well, they'd have to understand someday...
when I announced at my fifth grade graduation that I would be a hobo for a living, it was supposed to be funny. It still is!

A magnificent shooting star crossed the entire sky and did a little J-hook at the end.
Huh? My lucky stars were bats lit by the gas station. Ho ho!
I laughed out loud at that one, and woke up laughing hours later when the rain came.
I rolled up in my tarp and went back to sleep.

About 6am I woke up soaking in the only puddle that managed to form on the rooftop.
That incline perfect for sleeping on...was the rain gutter. Doh!
Har har, good one, slippery Fate!
I went down to people-level and gave the thumb a try.

Two minutes later I was tearing down 299 with Daniel and Alyssa in their new 70-something pick-up. Two beautiful people, two happy pups in the back. We smoked bowls with heaps of keif and talked burning man.

In Redding the obvious stop was In-N-out burger. Unga-chunga.
And all those funny suburban people with their shiny cars and bright clothes;
I almost forgot your breed existed!

They dropped me at a rest stop up 5 a bit and we gave our farewells.

Moments later I was bumbling up the interstate in a small RV with trailer, on-the-lamb John at the helm.
His demeanor was nervous and subdued, but his circumstance was nothing short of inspiring.
John had just stolen his best friends wife of 27 years, quit his job in Colorado fixing the machines that make the chips that run your computer, packed up, and is now going north to Newport to start a new life. His lady trailed us in a little grey beamer. Her husband had "lost it."
Ok, go John!

We landed in Ashland around 4pm.
First thing, I spent the better part of an hour at a bathroom hand-dryer getting all the water out of my sleeping bag. Ahhh...and then I checked into the hostel, which didn't have a card reader, so I could give them the $25 cash later.

I dropped my bag and hit the street.
The suspicion quickly arose that at some time not to long ago, Ashland was a very hip town. But then, with the stealth of a virus, businesses began popping up that fostered the misconception of a vacation being something that involves a lot of money, and a lot of luxury. Tourism! Egads man, maybe Main street is always Main street. Curiously expensive drinks and meals, a carefully calculated interior decor. It was all very stange and I fled downtown in quest of the Real Ashland.

The dirtiest bar in town.
This is where you find the heart and soul.
Omar's had PBR on tap for a buck seventy-five.
I bummed a smoke from Coyner. He is about to graduate with a chemistry degree at Southern Oregon University to become a noble pioneer of the pharmaceutical industry. He is going to invent all those pills that nobody knows they need...yet.
Why? you ask.
I did. "Money and Security" and "my own house".
Hmmm...well it was all over my head, so I beat it to the plaza to rondevouz with the friday night fire cats. No luck, the rain must have kept them indoors this night.

I went to the Irish pub and got drunk.
Some conversations, a flirt with a girl at the jukebox.
All good people in a good town.

I woke up after check-out at the hostel and crept out the back door.
Sure I didn't pay, but was it wrong of me to suspect that you wanted me to stay for free?

In Zoeys cafe now, morning in Ashland.
A cuppa joe.