After gettingword from my parents that they were delayed by an hour, I took my time in the diner. No point in hurrying if I was just going to be hanging out alone in the hotel room. I ordered a vanilla shake and happily slurped the drink while I went back to reading my book. After the mechanic left and my hyped up sexual tension abated, I was more willing to accept the characters for who they were – boring excuses for human beings with a penchant for unconventional sex. I still didn’t buy the chemistry, but at least it was reciprocated between the two, unlike my one-sidedinfatuation.
Once back on the road, I joined a new group of cars now making their way through the desert and thought wistfully of all those lucky souls I’d been traveling with earlier. They were probably already at their destination. And now I had to get to know a whole new group of drivers. Pathetic, I know, but keeping track of my travel companions was a way to pass the time and provided a source of entertainment as I imagined what their day was like. Not surprisingly, they all had more exotic lives thanIdid.
Today, however, was pleasantly different, and that was a nice change of pace. I wondered what the mechanic’s name was and what he did for a living, because clearly he was no mechanic. With a truck like that, he obviously wasn’t rolling in dough. The endless daydreaming passed the time quickly, and before I knew it, I saw a sign for the fairgrounds and found myself in a long line of cars headed to the festival. My hotel was a few miles further up the road, so I knew I was going to be stuck in this crap until all the cars in front of me started piling into the fairgroundparkinglots.
On the right side of the road, headed toward me and away from the fairgrounds, was a lone figure, lugging a backpack over his shoulder and a rolled up mat under his arm. It couldn’t be. But as I got closer, I could see him clearly: it was the guy from the diner. But what the hell was he doing leaving the festival after working so hard to get there? So curious was I that I actually pulled over and rolled down my window. The guy was drenched in sweat and had a seriously disgruntled look on his overheated face. Gone was the charmingbeggar.
“The concert is that way,” I said, pointing in the oppositedirection.
He glared at me, not appreciating my attempt at humor. “Yeah, Igetthat.”
“Okay, I was just making sureyouknew.”
“Do you have a bottle of water or something? I am dyingouthere.”
It was hot. In fact, I had just glanced at my temperature gauge moments before and had groaned at the 97-degree heat taunting me. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be walking around in it anymore than thehotguy.
“I already drank out of it,” I said, holding up my waterbottle.
“I don’t care. Please,” hebegged.
This was not the same affable guy from earlier. There was a sense of urgency to his request, so I handed him my bottle and watched him guzzle it down in huge, dragging gulps. He handed it back to meempty.
“Sorry. I drankitall.”
It wasn’t like I was going to touch my lips to that bottle after his had been thereanyway.
“That’s okay. I’ll get another one at thehotel.”
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and flicked his wrist, sending sweat flying, thankfully not in my direction. “I’ll give you a couple dollars to buyanotherone.”
“Don’t worryaboutit.”
“No. Here,” he said, pulling a few crumpled dollars from hispocket.
I held my hand up. “It’sokay.”
“Areyousure?”
Inodded.
“Okay, well, thanks for stopping. Have fun,” he said, before dropping his head in despair. I watched as the grungy drifter continued onhisway.
“You seem a little…uh…upset,” I called out to him. He stopped – kicking up dirt, of course – then backtracked to my open window. His eyes narrowed in on me before he squared hisshoulders.
“Do I?” he asked, with an edge to his voice. “Huh. Well, I guess it has something to do with being told that the wristband my roommate bought on Hollywood Boulevard was afuckingfake!”
“No!”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, he bought it from a scalper. Those guys are notorious scam artists. What the hell was I thinking? Of course this was going to happen. I’m such an idiot.Dammit!”
The guy wasn’t even really talking to me anymore. He was too busy berating himself. I waited for him to finish before offering up my sympathy. “For what it’s worth, I’msorry.”
I swear he looked close to tears… or maybe it was eye sweat. Was that a thing? Poor guy. His frustration and exhaustion were plain to see, and I genuinely felt sorryforhim.
“You’ve had a reallybadday.”
He peered at me through the window. Suddenly a smile wiped out the aggravated expression. “I know. Fuck.Right?”
