I'd been working as a Sears Photo Studio Manager.
I was living in Everett Washington. I'd quickly learned that this
was where the dumbest people in the world congregated. Not really
on purpose. More by just simple happenstance.
Here's a short example. The couple that lived in
the apartment next to mine once were kind enough to give me a
ride to work since I missed the bus. I'd made some remark about
My apartment looking like Hiroshima after the Atomic bomb was
dropped. The girl, who somewhat proudly once proclaimed to have
dropped out of the fourth grade, dropped her jaw to the floor
boards at this.
"We dropped an Atomic Bomb !!!??? On Who !?
When !? I didn't hear anything about this in the news. When did
this happen !?"
She was serious.
Then my jaw dropped to the floor boards.
After they moved out, a chain smoking school bus
driver moved into their apartment. His habit was always reading
"The World Weekly News". That outstanding publication
of puritanical professional journalism. Everything written in
there had to be true. As a society we were entrusting our children
to a man like this.
Scary.
Going to work was like an on going battle, being
trapped in a small room with screaming children 5-6 days a week.
I SWORE I'd NEVER have kids. Now I'm a single parent. Jerry Garcia
was right, "What a Long Strange trip it's been"
It was while I was in this environment of constant
cultural turmoil, that I received a visit from a dear college
buddy of mine one summer night. Mikael Sikora showed up at my
door step unannounced (well I didn't have a phone at the time)
"Sterno! What are you doing tomorrow ?"
"Aaahhhh…… Nothing"
"Great! We have to hop a freight train to Wenatchee
tomorrow and go get drunk with all your high school buddies!"
Now I knew that Mikael was a Christian. Was probably
the only person that I knew that most embodied the concept of
Christianity. This threw me a little.
"Yeah. You're right. That's what God told me
I had to do this Weekend. I have to go hop a freight train."
The next morning we got up shortly before 5:am and
headed for the Everett Railyard, backpacks on and our worst looking
scruffy clothes. After all this was an adventure and we had to
play the part.
Once we got to the tracks, we saw an old man, or
woman. We weren't sure. They were sitting on an old milk crate,
with another one right in front of her. (it took us a while to
make the distinction) On the milk crate in front of her was a
gold painted tin ash tray, the kind you find in a really greasy
spoon restaruant where they still allow smoking. What looked like
a home rolled, or possibly a worn Camel Cigarette between her
fingers hovered over the ashtray. Chunks of dandruff the size
of the Mendenhal Glacier dotted her greasy head. And with her
half toothless mouth she said, as we walked up,
"I see you fellar's ain't too handy with your
hands"
What kind of tricks was this woman expecting from
two pretend weekend bums ? Mikael and I looked at each other,
both hoping the other one knew what she meant by that.
"If you fella's were smart" the raspy voice
continued "you'd go up the street to that store up there
and you go steal somethin' useful like this here ashtray"
"Yeah, you're right." I said. "If
we were smart, we would. But we're kinda stupid. So can you tell
us when the next freight leaves for Wenatchee ?"
"Oh you missed it hours ago. It left town here
about 3 o'clock this morning."
"Shit." We both sighed.
So we walked along the tracks trying to figure out
what our next move was going to be. Amongst the crap lying around
the tracks we found two pieces of cardboard about 1 foot by 3
foot. We then took a marker that Mikael had stashed in his backpack
and wrote on one of them..
"Wenatchee"
The other sign we wrote
"Pleez"
We figured the dumber and more desparate we looked
while hitchhiking, the better.
We held up our signs at the beginning of Highway
#2, not even out of the Everett City limits. We stood along the
highway just before it turned into a bridge that crossed the slough.
An inlet/river as it emoties out into the Puget Sound.
Within five minutes of hanging out our signs we got
a ride from a guy driving an old Ford Galaxy. He was nice enough
to give us a ride as far as Gold Bar, which is about 40-50 miles
away. Just before the highway crosses Stevens Pass. He also must've
figured that we were really desparate and he handed us two joints
for the road.
We sat just off the highway outside Gold Bar for
a while as we smoked to our (so far) good fortune. Feeling a litttle
lighter we started walking to the highway when we saw a group
of about 5 or 6 deer cross the highway about 20 yards away from
us.
As we hit the highway and just as we held up our
signs, a pick up truck stopped for us. The driver asked told us
that he could give us a ride as far as Leavenworth, but we had
to ride in the bed of his pick-up. Fine by us.
So he did. And we watched the scenery go by all the
way to Leavenworth.
He dropped us off on the east side of town, outside
Leavenworth. At the very same spot that a couple other hitchers
were waiting for a ride. We talked for a little while. Asked them
where they were from, where they were headed. Their hair was much
longer than ours. Their clothes were dirtier. And they had a dog
with them. It had taken them two days, to get from Seattle to
where they were at. It had barely taken us two hours.
We waited for them to get a ride first. As we stepped away from them, sure enough they got a ride finally.
So we stuck our trusty lucky signs out again. This
time a yellow convertible VW Rabbit stopped. And the guy was pretty
friendly. (No joints) but he did drop us off at a John's house.
John was one of the guys that we wanted to see and
get drunk with that weekend. As we knocked on his door he was
obviously suprised and pleased to see us. When we told him that
we were on a mission from God (so to speak), his reply was …
"That's great guys. I'd love to go get drunk
with ya. But I'm moving to Seattle this weekend."
Time for Plan C!
We didn't come all this way for nothing that had
to be someone else, another old friend that we could get together
with to get drunk. After all that was our QUEST!
Nay, Nine, Nix.
Everyone that we tried to call that I knew in Wenatchee
that weekend said the same thing.
"I'm moving to Seattle this weekend."
It was now about 11 AM. As a last resort. No where
else to go. We walked to my parents' house.
Twenty minutes later, after having our fill of grilled
cheese sandwiches, and already bored out of our minds. (Sorry
Mom and Dad, but we were out for an ADVENTURE, a QUEST, for the
open RAILS! And spending the afternoon, night whatever with you
just wasn't in the books for that day) We had to FIND A FREIGHT!
And FAST!
I called Burlington Northern. Let's face it, when
you ask your parents they are NOT going to know the local freight
train schedule, and even if they did, they wouldn't tell YOU.
For the exact same reasons that my parents weren't going to tell
us, and I know I wouldn't tell my kids, now that I'm a parent.
I gave them some cock and bull story about how I
had a tractor that I wanted to have hauled over to the Seattle
area, and I needed to know when the next freight left. I've since
wondered how many of these calls they got.
The answer was 12:30 that afternoon.
"Mom, Dad, Sorry we gotta go hop a freight!"
They simultaneously both seemed to bury their heads
in their hands and quivered. Wondering where they'd gone wrong.
After all I was a young bright (yeah, right!) businessman working
for a reputable company. (Sears, yeah, right!)
We walked down to the rail yard.
To Be Continued…….