Monday, June 12, 2006

I'm in the Salina Public Library on Elm and 9th, and it's just after 8PM, and I've been walking since 10AM this morning. That was fine until about 4PM, when my feet were really hurting and I had been out of water for nearly an hour. So, I started to try and thumb rides.

What the fuck is the matter with people? "Oh shit, look at that kid, he looks pretty hot and tired. And he might be in trouble, as he's right smack-dab in the middle of fucking nowhere. SPEED UP, HONEY!" Fuck Salina (that's suh-lie-nuh), and the 200 or so cars that passed me in the MULTIPLE HOURS that I spent walking backwards with my thumb to heaven. A special fuck-you-and-go-to-hell to the dumb-fuck that smiled and waved at me, as well as the jackass who gave me a thumbs-up back. Thanks to the dude who slowed down and handed me a cold bottle of water, and also to Rick, who "fuckin' hitch-hiked all the way from g'damn Warshington State" and was kind enough to drive me into Salina. Having reached Salina, I promptly found electrical outlets on the side of a Phillips 66 gas station and charged my phone and camera batteries. Then I spent about another hour or so walking from the city limit to the library, where you all now find me.

But to continue on with the story...

Brandy's mom dropped me off at a 'Quik Stop' or something like that, and I bought a pack of sandwiches and some water and a bottle of gatorade, as well as some beef jerkey and probably something else that I can't think of right now. There was a Pentacostal church across the intersection and a drive-in movie theater directly across the street. I shrugged and headed toward the church to find a way on the roof or at least a place to chillax in the shade and plot my next move. After finding a quiet place on the far side of the church and exchanging texts with my mom, I decided that, as it was a Wednesday, I'd attend the service. After milling around a bit, I wandered inside and sat down.

The Pentacosts are good people. They're just completely fucking nuts, like all other religions and sects and such to varying degrees. Sister Rose Somethingorother introduced herself to me and gave me lots of silly Christian literature to pour over and a guest slip to fill out and I told her about my journey and all that jazz. Well the service got started and there was a lot of "PRAIIIIIISE GOD! PRAISE GOD! PRAISE THE LORD!" Before and following every sentence. There was also plenty of clapping, swaying, singing, and groping & fondling of the Holy Spirit via waving hands in the air. Though I was warned and later asked about it, I didn't observe any "speaking in tongues", though there was a curious point at which members of the ministry (apparently tired of running around the congregation with tamborines) huddled together like ants on a dropped piece of fruit and continued to chant "Praise Jesus! Praise the LORD!" At one point, apparently my friend Sista' Rose told such-and-such about my passing-through, and there was a lot of congratulating and admiring and "Good luck on your journey!"-ing. At one point, some guy came up to shake my hand and wish me luck, and had slipped me a 20 dollar bill. I tried to thank him but he scurried off.

I stayed for a bit longer in the church and then said goodbye to my crazy friends and wandered into the increasingly dark field behind the church. I laid down for a bit, but, being swarmed by a throng of apparently very-bored mosquitoes, I began an attempt to set up my tent. Well, this was an extremely frustrating endeavour, because dusk was almost at an end and the mosquitoes were intent on ensuring I left Wichita bloodless. After much "God fucking DAMN it!"-ing within ear-shot of some remnant Pentacosts, I finally was able to climb inside my tent and fall asleep.

More of that story later, as I only have "4 minutes remaining". So, here's the good photos I've shot thus-far.

Or not. I'll edit this post more tomorrow, ... maybe. Deuces para ahora, camaradas.

1 comment:

paulo said...

Good luck, man. I look forward to reading more of your adventures.

I picked up an anarchist hitchhiker a few years back. He was roughly my age, and had dropped out of college to just travel around. He said he mostly partied, but sometimes he'd go and do the social-activism-as-lifestyle thing. He had a small tent and a canopener, and shoplifted almost all of his food. One of his things was he wanted to spend as little money as possible, and bragged about spending 99 dollars in 1999.

I accidentally left him behind when I stopped in a town for gas. He wanted to see if some girl he knew was working at the liquor store, so I dropped him off, but couldn't find the place when I tried to go back. I was in a hurry, so after looking around for a while I just drove off. I figured it wasn't so bad since he was homeless anyway, but I still feel bad about it to this day.