Field Report--Pecos, TX
Howdy from the desert.
Tomorrow marks my third week since I arrive in Pecos, TX. I've been flying the plane solo since the first Thursday I got here. The situation is quite stagnant. The town lacks most of the amenities which I've come to expect. My foodie side is suffering greatly, and my reading brain centers are laying dormant for the lack of interest. All that said, I must report that I've been keeping pretty tense in anticipation of the next flight. Not unlike the RAF in the summer of 1940, we're ready and awaiting the phone to ring with news of a patient that needs to be flown out.
Several important things happened since I arrived. Firstly, I discovered some things about myself which I had long suspected.
There's a fried chicken joint here in town which gives away free food to the police and fire departments. The EMS service, beings the ugly stepchild of both those departments, also get a cut of the free and deep fried chicken and biscuits. One of the medics suggested that we go there last week, so we did. The suggestive paramedic ordered first, and I followed suit. He ordered rather unabashed and ask for his order. There was a quick communication between him and the chicken seller--which I was not privy to, but which yielded the blasted chicken. When my turn came up, I was completely stunned at the situation. I could hardly speak, and in fact, I never asked for anything more than what the menu said. It was simply impossible for me to ask for free food. My conclusion, long held, is that I'll go hungry long before I ask for any food from anyone or any thing.
The second thing that I noticed this past week regards my temporary sense of compassion for individuals. The first instance happened when I over heard on the radio that a local girl had been found dead in the tub, under suspicion of suicide. The local police department concluded that she had in fact been strangled and thrown into the tub with the hopes of faking a suicide. The killer had escaped town. Meanwhile, the family and friends had posted all over town, in the local restaurants and stores, a note which called for donations to the funeral fund. Having heard over the radio the immediate response and aid paid to her helpless corps, I felt that I owed a certain sense of debt for having learned of the circumstances almost as a case of voyeurism. The day of the funeral donations event, I waited around at the hotel lobby for a while, waiting for the people to show and for the donations to start flowing. I had a few bucks in cash which I could donate to the cause of burying this poor girl. She seems to have had two kids, and worked as a hotel maid at the Best Western, so it's very likely that I may have gazed at her only days earlier. It's even possible that I may have even checked her out top to bottom at some point. I'll never know. However, while my intentions were stronger, my growing lack of interest caused me to get up and leave. I simply left. It disappeared off to my crappy trailer behind the hotel. The sense of sympathy which had first drawn me had quickly dissipated and nothing remained. Hours later I noticed only casually that my watch read several hours past the end time of the times scheduled for the funeral fund raiser. Etc. Etc.
Tomorrow marks my third week since I arrive in Pecos, TX. I've been flying the plane solo since the first Thursday I got here. The situation is quite stagnant. The town lacks most of the amenities which I've come to expect. My foodie side is suffering greatly, and my reading brain centers are laying dormant for the lack of interest. All that said, I must report that I've been keeping pretty tense in anticipation of the next flight. Not unlike the RAF in the summer of 1940, we're ready and awaiting the phone to ring with news of a patient that needs to be flown out.
Several important things happened since I arrived. Firstly, I discovered some things about myself which I had long suspected.
There's a fried chicken joint here in town which gives away free food to the police and fire departments. The EMS service, beings the ugly stepchild of both those departments, also get a cut of the free and deep fried chicken and biscuits. One of the medics suggested that we go there last week, so we did. The suggestive paramedic ordered first, and I followed suit. He ordered rather unabashed and ask for his order. There was a quick communication between him and the chicken seller--which I was not privy to, but which yielded the blasted chicken. When my turn came up, I was completely stunned at the situation. I could hardly speak, and in fact, I never asked for anything more than what the menu said. It was simply impossible for me to ask for free food. My conclusion, long held, is that I'll go hungry long before I ask for any food from anyone or any thing.
The second thing that I noticed this past week regards my temporary sense of compassion for individuals. The first instance happened when I over heard on the radio that a local girl had been found dead in the tub, under suspicion of suicide. The local police department concluded that she had in fact been strangled and thrown into the tub with the hopes of faking a suicide. The killer had escaped town. Meanwhile, the family and friends had posted all over town, in the local restaurants and stores, a note which called for donations to the funeral fund. Having heard over the radio the immediate response and aid paid to her helpless corps, I felt that I owed a certain sense of debt for having learned of the circumstances almost as a case of voyeurism. The day of the funeral donations event, I waited around at the hotel lobby for a while, waiting for the people to show and for the donations to start flowing. I had a few bucks in cash which I could donate to the cause of burying this poor girl. She seems to have had two kids, and worked as a hotel maid at the Best Western, so it's very likely that I may have gazed at her only days earlier. It's even possible that I may have even checked her out top to bottom at some point. I'll never know. However, while my intentions were stronger, my growing lack of interest caused me to get up and leave. I simply left. It disappeared off to my crappy trailer behind the hotel. The sense of sympathy which had first drawn me had quickly dissipated and nothing remained. Hours later I noticed only casually that my watch read several hours past the end time of the times scheduled for the funeral fund raiser. Etc. Etc.