Here's a Story From North America.
So, over the Thanksgiving holiday, I was in Washington D.C. While we were away, Caleb let my mom's co-worker borrow his car. So, we landed in Houston about eleven on Saturday. Yesterday we went to get awkward family photos taken and go pick up Caleb's car.
They were reeeally awkward pictures. Needless to say, we're making copies of the worst one and handing it out to ALL OF OUR FRIENDS.
Anyways, after getting the car, we went to chinatown for some tofu sammiches. On our way back home, one of our tires blew out. This is the fun part.
The tire blew out in the middle of the highway. So the only place we could pull over to was the giant triangle between merging lanes. We sat there for maybe an hour while waiting for AAA, haha.
Once the guy got there he said that he was just going to call a flatbed, since it's too dangerous to change a tire in the middle of the highway. So we wait for maybe fifteen more minutes. The flatbed arrives and takes the car to a nearby gas station.
We take the spare out of the trunk, and while Caleb is talking to the guy who's working on our car, some homeless guy starts nudging his way into their conversation.
So apparently our spare tire is low on air, too. COOL! Good thing we were at a gas station.
So Caleb goes to fill the spare with air, and I spy a book in the trunk. Before I pick it up, the same homeless man, realizing he'd been ignored by my brother, begins talking to me.
"Ya'll stranded out here?"
"Yep. Fun times."
"Oh, I'm not gonna do anything, don't worry. I'm not crazy like that."
"Alright. I didn't think you would, haha."
"I'm just here for security, you know?"
"Ye--"
"See, I got no place to stay or nothin'."
Then he starts to get down, closer to the car and using the jack.
"I'm just gonna help him out here."
"Kay."
Feeling awkward, I walk over to the air pump, where my brother and the AAA guy are talking. Apparently the spare has two leaks in it. To which I am not surprised, as Caleb got it for $25 off of some shady guy. Anyways, the homeless guy tries to convince us that fix-a-flat will work on the spare. I'm pretty sure the three of us were thinking the same thing.
Sweet, naive homeless man. You just don't get that fix-a-flat only works for tiny things. Like nails. I'm so sorry, poor homeless man.
So we go back to our car, the homeless man finally seems to retreat after my brother gives him one of Micah's bullclipped quarter dollars. Triple A man begins switching out the back tire, and another eccentric homeless man approaches us. This time he's more rambley and weird. I look in the trunk again, and take out the book.
Aw, jeez.
Let me set this scene for you.
It's midnight in south Houston, I'm in the parking lot of a Valero with my brother and his car. The Triple A man is replacing a blown out tire with one that has two leaks in it. It's sticky and humid, but Caleb and I are wearing our sweaters anyways. We are being approached by eccentric homeless men, and I am holding a copy of DESIGN FOR DESIRE, by Anna Hudson. A pulp-fiction novel from 1983, part of "A Candlelight Ecstasy Romance" series. It looks like it's about horny interior decorators.
Triple A man gets the tires changed, and then tows it into a nearby Discount Tire Co., where we will leave it for the night. Caleb realizes that he only has his debit card after giving away his bullclip-qarter-dollars to homeless people. So we go across the street to a convenience store, which has no ATM that works. So we return to Triple A man and apologise. But, Houston being weird and convenient and terrible at the same time, there is a Chase bank right across the highway.
Triple A man gives us a lift there. The smallest amount you can withdraw is $20, so he drives us to a Denny's to get change, while he tells us stories about his friends' encounters with crossdressers.
"You see that girl on the corner?"
"Yep."
"She's not just hangin' out there. She's a prostitute. She's lookin' for action."
"Yeah, I guess that's the only reason to be out here at midnight."
"Well, aside from this."
"Yeah. You know, I see a lot of them on Westheimer."
"What? Where on Westheimer? Because I ain't never seen none there."
"Yeah, near the Montrose area."
"Oh man, those aren't men."
"Good point."
"They got you fooled, man?"
"Well, I try not to look too closely."
We pay Triple A man and wait for our mom to pick us up from Denny's. We both get milkshakes. It is almost two in the morning.
Also, slam poetry looks amazingly fun.
They were reeeally awkward pictures. Needless to say, we're making copies of the worst one and handing it out to ALL OF OUR FRIENDS.
Anyways, after getting the car, we went to chinatown for some tofu sammiches. On our way back home, one of our tires blew out. This is the fun part.
The tire blew out in the middle of the highway. So the only place we could pull over to was the giant triangle between merging lanes. We sat there for maybe an hour while waiting for AAA, haha.
Once the guy got there he said that he was just going to call a flatbed, since it's too dangerous to change a tire in the middle of the highway. So we wait for maybe fifteen more minutes. The flatbed arrives and takes the car to a nearby gas station.
We take the spare out of the trunk, and while Caleb is talking to the guy who's working on our car, some homeless guy starts nudging his way into their conversation.
So apparently our spare tire is low on air, too. COOL! Good thing we were at a gas station.
So Caleb goes to fill the spare with air, and I spy a book in the trunk. Before I pick it up, the same homeless man, realizing he'd been ignored by my brother, begins talking to me.
"Ya'll stranded out here?"
"Yep. Fun times."
"Oh, I'm not gonna do anything, don't worry. I'm not crazy like that."
"Alright. I didn't think you would, haha."
"I'm just here for security, you know?"
"Ye--"
"See, I got no place to stay or nothin'."
Then he starts to get down, closer to the car and using the jack.
"I'm just gonna help him out here."
"Kay."
Feeling awkward, I walk over to the air pump, where my brother and the AAA guy are talking. Apparently the spare has two leaks in it. To which I am not surprised, as Caleb got it for $25 off of some shady guy. Anyways, the homeless guy tries to convince us that fix-a-flat will work on the spare. I'm pretty sure the three of us were thinking the same thing.
Sweet, naive homeless man. You just don't get that fix-a-flat only works for tiny things. Like nails. I'm so sorry, poor homeless man.
So we go back to our car, the homeless man finally seems to retreat after my brother gives him one of Micah's bullclipped quarter dollars. Triple A man begins switching out the back tire, and another eccentric homeless man approaches us. This time he's more rambley and weird. I look in the trunk again, and take out the book.
Aw, jeez.
Let me set this scene for you.
It's midnight in south Houston, I'm in the parking lot of a Valero with my brother and his car. The Triple A man is replacing a blown out tire with one that has two leaks in it. It's sticky and humid, but Caleb and I are wearing our sweaters anyways. We are being approached by eccentric homeless men, and I am holding a copy of DESIGN FOR DESIRE, by Anna Hudson. A pulp-fiction novel from 1983, part of "A Candlelight Ecstasy Romance" series. It looks like it's about horny interior decorators.
Triple A man gets the tires changed, and then tows it into a nearby Discount Tire Co., where we will leave it for the night. Caleb realizes that he only has his debit card after giving away his bullclip-qarter-dollars to homeless people. So we go across the street to a convenience store, which has no ATM that works. So we return to Triple A man and apologise. But, Houston being weird and convenient and terrible at the same time, there is a Chase bank right across the highway.
Triple A man gives us a lift there. The smallest amount you can withdraw is $20, so he drives us to a Denny's to get change, while he tells us stories about his friends' encounters with crossdressers.
"You see that girl on the corner?"
"Yep."
"She's not just hangin' out there. She's a prostitute. She's lookin' for action."
"Yeah, I guess that's the only reason to be out here at midnight."
"Well, aside from this."
"Yeah. You know, I see a lot of them on Westheimer."
"What? Where on Westheimer? Because I ain't never seen none there."
"Yeah, near the Montrose area."
"Oh man, those aren't men."
"Good point."
"They got you fooled, man?"
"Well, I try not to look too closely."
We pay Triple A man and wait for our mom to pick us up from Denny's. We both get milkshakes. It is almost two in the morning.
Also, slam poetry looks amazingly fun.
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