CHAPTER 14
(Lighting My Hair On Fire)
It was a double whammy for me. Not only had I lost my job but I had lost my home at the same time I lost my job as we live in those trucks. For the next few months I bounced around from hotel to hotel and watched my savings burn up right before my eyes. Unemployment couldn't help because I literally had no address to give them and they would have gone off my $150 weekly earnings at Wendy's that wouldn't even be worth my time fighting for with the way I like to spend money.
Eventually I found myself heading south as the winter was coming and I knew the hotels would be cheaper. But that didn't help much as I found myself losing that hotel savings on gas money heading north every week to visit Pop Pop and family. Even without a job or any type of income people always envied my "go here and there" lifestyle and acted like I was doing better than anyone else. I ended up spending $1200 at a dealership in Indy for a beater car to get home because since I never had a credit card I couldn't rent a car. Once I got home I sold the car to my mechanic I knew for 22 years for a mere $400.00. I was just in a hurry to get rid of it as I had no place to put it and I could only drive one car at a time anyways.
Even though they had burritos down south I still couldn't give up on Wendy's. I found myself frequenting a Wendy's restaurant in Bristol VA right above the Tennessee line. With a gentle giant look on my face you can bet your bottom dollar I get bum rushed a lot whether I have weekly income or not. Down south almost every Walmart corner is occupied by a panhandler it seems. When you've seen the country it just gets old after awhile. I still remember as a kid going to Inner Harbor MD and being completely captivated by seeing bums as they were never to be seen in my hometown of Lancaster County. In the event you would stumble across one it became news and discussed on the WGAL channel 8. But the rest of the country? It's just another day.
I was eating my salad at Wendy's still disgusted that Milan Trucking had rejected my job application. The unemployment agency had me furious because now I had to spend money to job search without that UC check. It seemed very unfair. I have never cheated like the others nor in my lifetime had I ever come close to exhausting it so what Queen in Harrisburg was always pointing her big plastic strap on at me? I really didn't know.
I wasn't rubbing two nickels together just yet but I knew if I didn't land a job soon I'd most likely have to do something incredibly stupid to cash in on three hots and a cot to make it through the upcoming winter. I DEFINITELY wasn't going to hang out with the dope crazed bridge people in Texas that sleep under the bridges off exit 789 on I-20. No way in hell was I going to let those fire ants get me. I'd go to jail and listen to Tony's bullshit from an 8X10 cell before I'd wake up screaming from an attack from those fire ants that stung like hell. The south was known for mysterious bugs. Louisiana even had double headed incest bugs straight from Montgomery Burns Nuclear plant. And they do bite!
Eating helped me escape my financial hardships and took my mind away from whatever bad situation I might ever find myself in. I was just forking the last few leafs of my salad when I saw a man looking twice my age sitting in the corner of Wendy's all by himself with no dinner. I noticed he was poking around with a half depleted Gatorade packet he was keeping in his shirt pocket. He definitely looked too old and poor health to be a trucker and had bags of clothes flanking his table where he sat. I could tell the lonely man was in no hurry and I was quite certain he was a homeless man.
There's not a week that goes by where I don't bump into a homeless person but there was definitely something entirely different with this mans demeanor than the bums I am used to dealing with. For starters. He had no cardboard sign. He definitely didn't smell like an ashtray so money wasn't getting wasted on cigarettes. He definitely didn't appear to be a druggie as I saw no bloodshot in his eyes to suggest any drug use. But what really caught my attention the most? Not only could I not picture him handling a job even if he wanted to the entire time he sat there he never bothered to ask anyone for a thing! Why couldn't ALL hobos be like this guy? Why couldn't the Hobo population just let us figure out their shortcomings in life?
We're not all stupid people to not be able to realize when somebody is down on their luck!
I was glad the young girl wiping the table next to him didn't give him a hard time or try to suggest he leave. In fact just the opposite. She was kind to him just like she would be to her very own grandpa. I couldn't take it any longer. Just yesterday I had visited a casino in North Carolina and was up $140.00 and in a very good mood. And here was a homeless man acting like I wished ALL homeless people would act like! Let us figure it out!
I very sneakily reached into my pocket and hid my wallet under my table so nobody could see me looking for twenties. I plucked out two twenty dollar bills and tucked them as tightly as I could into my right palm so nobody would notice. I didn't want to make a friend with a homeless person because in actuality $40.00 is only just gonna let them live to see one more day and I had current problems of my own. No income. I knew I had to play this just right in the event that I may end up having this man follow me around like a puppy dog if he sees the fatness in my wallet.
I first made sure to empty my tray before I slowly snuck up behind the homeless man without drawing any attention to myself. I didn't want the other customers to witness my power move so I had to be stealthy and quick so I kept the furled bills crumpled into my palm.
I placed it right on the edge of his table as I didn't want to encroach on his personal space because that could get me knifed. (Ya just never know these days)
"Here. You dropped this." I said laying the $40.00 on the table.
I didn't shake his hand. I didn't even bother to look at his face for I am shy around strangers plus I didn't want the paycheck to paycheck customers to see my act of kindness and assume they had to offer help to the man as well. I quickly exited towards the door and swung it open trying to leave before the old man could process what just happened but I was too late.
"Thank you sir!" Shouted the old man from behind.
And I get a thank you from this guy? I thought to myself. I was really liking the way this old guy carried himself. I had met plenty of hobos that made it clear it was the duty of the public to pay their hobo tax and those dollars were considered a constitutional right and not a gift from a kind hearted soul.
When I knew I was able to leave Wendy's without having to deal with handshakes or a request for a ride up the street I turned around for a split second to give the old man a friendly William Shatner wave. It was only a split second though and not even long enough for him to provide me with any more thank you's or possibly any potential "can I shine your shoes". I got into my 2003 Huyandai Accent and sat on a stinky wet mildewed seat. Someday I vowed to get that leaky sunroof fixed but I always felt the welder wanted too much money. The entire sunroof desperately needed welded shut and it had been like that since I had bought it. Maybe all these trucking companies were turning my job search into a game of duck duck goose but until one of these recruiters could get off their duff and join me by running around in little circles there was literally no big boy seat for this BillyBig Rigger to sit down!
Things were really boring in Bristol Virginia and it was killing me having to drive an entire two and a half hours just to get to a casino. I soon found myself going to the movies a lot and relying on The Equalizer movie for entertainment. Denzel Washington. It's no secret he's one of the best. But once I had watched all the action movies there was to watch I could literally start to feel myself losing my mind. I could only tell these potential employers my ding dong story over and over so many times before I'd be forced to cash in on my three hots and a cot. If it really were 3 hots and a cot. These days it's more like 2 hots and an exercise mat on a concrete floor if you're lucky.
One day I really started to feel myself losing it. I was going flat out nutty and even losing the concept of time. When I hit these nutty episodes entire weeks can literally feel liked minutes to me. Eventually I found myself alone in my hotel room lighting my hair on fire. Unfortunately I have short hair so the flames could never really catch but I ended up with some black sticky charcoal hair which actually looked like a new trend.
Eventually I gave up lighting my hair on fire and opted to go for a drive. I didn't know where I was going but eventually I saw a blue hospital sign and ended up at Johnstown Memorial hospital. I soon found myself hanging out in the ER room. An old couple stared at me for quite some time. I think this pop in visit happened on a Sunday because business seemed slow in there.
The hours passed and I really had no place to go. I don't recall what I said to the receptionist but she was quick to place a hospital bracelet on me. Eventually some youthful blond haired nurse asked me a bunch of questions about why I had no health insurance and how I landed at Johnston Memorial Hospital in Virginia.
"I just really don't seem to know." I had replied.
They did the routine I was so accustomed to of stealing all my clothes and placing my wallet and cellphone into a zip lock Baggie. I was a bit worried about them poking around inside my phone. Some people have like 100 contacts and usually the most I have at any given time is 4. As a trucker my phone is used to sitting around all day and not making a single chirp. If these people find out I have nobody out there for me they just might take advantage of me like they did at Kids Peace when I was 17 years old. Yes that purposeful negligent shit really happens ALL the time. In EVERY hospital. Don't believe me? Run an experiment on your own. Place two patients under cover into a state run behavioral therapy inpatient program.
Have one that is attractive and gets lots of visits. Have the other be some ugly hobo off the streets that the world has forgotten about. Near the end of a three week experiment pay an unexpected visit to the hobo and watch all the nurses flock to the hobo and start taking his/her vitals all of a sudden.
Eventually the cute blond nurse in the blue navy scrubs went away and I was left in a dark room with nobody checking on me for hours. I was not offered or given any lunch or dinner. By midnight I gave up and fell asleep somehow. At 2am a police officer was towering over me and interrupted my slumber. And to think I would get billed later for this shit! The police officer asked me some questions about lighting my hair on fire and escorted me out to his cruiser car. The kind with the woo woo lights.
I'll never forget how unprofessional of a driver that cop was. He didn't seem very friendly and I was nothing more than a waste of space to him. He was just like all the other cops I have encountered since my Federal release in 2009. His guard remained up. Way up. Ever since my Federal release it always seems like the cops act paranoid around me like as if I always had a bag of tricks up my sleeve. It could possibly be because my WMD was placed into a tiny ring box that could easily fit into ones pocket. I'll never forget what Shane on my brother's softball team once stated when I had to fill in every now and then.
"I don't know if I wanna play with Blake. I'm afraid he might slip a bomb into my pocket."
Maybe Shane was kidding or maybe that's why the Poh-Lice are always checking their pockets when they pass me on the streets I really don't know. But what I do know was that the cop hauling me away from Johnston Memorial Hospital was in one hell of a big hurry!
My guess is that it wasn't personal but rather a cop thing. My younger brother has been a police officer for over ten years and he drives just like this mad man. Our 90-95mph ride to the State Mental facility sure had me bushy eyed and awake by the time I got there. I mostly just wanted to go back to bed before my stomach would growl any longer. This kind of felt like patient abuse. And I'm supposed to billed for all of this bad treatment? How does THAT work?
When I arrived into the mental ward I met a very nice security officer clad in blue. He appeared a good ten years older than me but I swear this man was doing everything right in life. He even insisted on conversation as he took me to processing.
"So you're a truck driver huh?" He asked.
I studied his dirty blond hair mostly because he was insistent at peeking at my seared wild hair.
"Yeah I guess you could say so. Gonna be a while before I'm billybig rigging again. Had a little trouble getting my ten speed trucker cycle down that mountain on I-64."
"Oh what part?"
"I dunno exact part. Sulphur Springs I think or something like that. I think that's why they call it the Smoky mountains. Had quite a lot of smoke back there."
"Good money in trucking?" He asked. "It's okay. Not a steady paycheck though."
"No money in this either. Eleven bucks an hour working here. But it works out for me because if I make more than that it will cut into my social security."
I giggled. Then I looked over the sandy haired man. He seemed normal. He talked normal. Even walked normal. And I was sure he was nowhere even close to retirement age. How had this man worked the system just right to refrain Queen B from turning the juice off? unemployment was refusing to allow me to hop onto their mighty big ship and here this genius was getting not only one but TWO paychecks.
I was no hater though. Even though I had been without any income for months I could still giggle about the "good times". We never had cable tv (and still don't) growing up and I was certain that the government was intentionally trying to communicate stupidities to the Steidler family via analog over the air free channel tv. Oh how my father and I giggled when the snoopy fat lady did an investigation report about people living it up on the SSDI. I found the investigation rather amusing and especially near the end many giggles erupted by the reporters last words.
The reporter had stated, "If the American people fully understood how the system works there would be two different crowds. The first crowd would say “that's not fair” and hate it. The second crowd would say HOW DO I SIGN UP?"
My pops and I laughed hysterically at the report on analog TV. We were no haters. Brains over Bronze was always the secret to success in life. But then the tv got even MORE funnier on us as I WAS QUITE CERTAIN the government was communicating telepathetically. One day out of the blue during a John Wayne break a commercial came on television of a man dressed up as Mr. Spock from the old Star Trek. In the commercial they had a fake Mr. Spock being teleported and beamed down to earth. As soon as Mr. Spock arrives to earth they question his work itinerary and he looks at them all like they are all crazy.
"No!" Says Mr. Spock, "Tell me how I can get on disability." The commercial was so stinking funny it literally had the both of us in tears. I was convinced the government purposely aired that commercial knowing I would eventually see it. I was convinced the comical commercial was innuendo meant to insinuate me to go look for a jobby. I wasn't looking for shit. Not with a cute doggy in my lap. And especially since momma never turned the heat on in the winter and Arnie kept my lap warm.
Meanwhile SWVMHI Hospital
I looked over at the security guard and tried not to let him see my grin. "Well let's not hope that they do that."
I was a jealous mother "F"er. My piggy bank had suffered enough over the months because of that Sell-A-Ding Dong company. Celadon. Whatever they were called.
The security guard finally embraced himself to dump the bad news on me. It was 3am and I was gonna go crazy if my shut eye didn't come soon. It was really all I had to look forward to in life. Waking up. And going to sleep.
"I uh. I can get you a bed." "Okay great I said."
I was picturing a nice warm bed with those clean smelling hospital sheets. Boy was I wrong.
The security guard continued. "But all the rooms are full."
I was confused. "I thought you said you could get me a bed?" "Well I can. Just not your own room. You'll have a roommate."
Oh shit I thought to myself. These nuthouses haven't changed much. They're still just like jail.
I tried to picture in my mind what my roommate in a Luny Bin would look and act like. I wasn't liking this idea.
"What's his name?" I finally asked.
The security guard chuckled. "Dickey. Don't worry though. He won't bother you."
Dickey? What kind of name was Dickey? I thought to myself.
Before we made it too far down the hall a foxy staff worker in a pink dress stopped is in our path. She had a clip board crooked in her arm. Maybe she was a psychiatrist or social worker perhaps.
"Stop right there. He has to bathe first."
I defended myself. "I showered this morning at the hotel. I just wanna go to sleep."
"It doesn't matter." Said the big boobed lady in the pink dress, "It's standard procedure."
I couldn't believe this. Were they serious?
Within five minutes I had this $11.00 security officer working hard for his money. And I mean REALLY hard. As I tried to imagine a huge pile of bricks landing on my member to keep unwanted things from popping up it was all I could do to keep from giggling. The security guard used the lowering chair machine to lower my full nude body into the big massive ceramic tub while the big boobed lady in the pink dress supervised and watched the bathing procedure. Was this even legal? Was she gonna get naked too?
As the security guard bathed me reality set in finally that no Mrs. Big tits was not gonna jump into the tub with me. I could get more excitement lighting my hair on fire and racing big 18 wheelers down long steep windy mountains. Once I was certain she wasn't gonna climb in I didn't have to imagine a huge pile of bricks plopping on Padro to keep things under control down there. But I was still so curious as to her insisting on being a part of this. I didn't know they studied in those universities but I imagined if she went to her meetings or whatever that she was going to definitely have things to talk about tomorrow.
The lady in the pink dress finally left and I was allowed to stand up from the tub and dry off. I was still very perplexed. Why didn't they just let me take a shower? If she had to be in the room why couldn't SHE be the one to sponge me down?
But even as I dried myself off with a factory washed towel I still had one big scary question on my mind.
Who was Dickey?