PRISONER EXPRESS

I have a couple of memorable trips and it's difficult to pick one. I started to write about the 1st time I seen the Rocky Mountains standing there touching the sky in a majestic salute to their greatness and the profound effect they had on me. I was 16 with a 1971 Hemi Road Runner under my ass, a Ruger 357 under my arm, and a string of hold-ups behind me that were soon to catch up. I thought I was an old west outlaw and lived accordingly...Standing in the middle of those mountains hand a humbling effect on me and made me realize that I was a small actor of the stage of life and was screwing up my part...But this is "favorite trip" and that trip, even though it was one hell of a ride, wasn't my favorite due to how it ended. So lets move ahead more than 15 years...

The Federal Government killed Tim McVay in the death house at Terre Haute Indiana and I was releases a week later. The prison van took me a few miles down the road and dropped me off at a little hole in the all store that sold tickets and where the bus from Chicago would stop once a day on its way to St. Louis. I bought a ticket to Dallas and walked outside and waited for the bus. Whenever I have read in a book or seen on TV the fictional account of someone being released from prison after many years of incarceration, its always depicted as jubilant with an out burst of emotion. In reality that release doesn't come until days later. The 1st day out you taking too much "normal activity" around you and are worried that all eyes are on you because you feel that you stand out due to not feeling like you fit in. After a half hour of pacing in the parking lot and enjoying how the air smelled better on this side, the bus pulled up. I glanced at the windows as it slowly rolled past me and came to a stop. Each window had a face and all eyes were on me...When I look back now I sometimes wonder what those faces thought as they seen me standing there in boots, faded Levi's, wife beater, sleeved with ink and looking like just what I was...fresh outta prison. I gave the driver my ticket and got on. It was a packed bus and I was starting to wonder where I would sit when I noticed a slender white arm held up and a hand waving at me. It was nearly at the back of the bus which is what I wanted. As I got to the seat a young girl was emptying the seat beside her, stuffing sacks and bags everywhere. She was listening to a CD player so I mouthed a silent thank you and sat down. The short trip from Terre Haute to St. Louis, where I would catch another bus, was spent trying to absorb everything/one around me. I would catch a little piece of conversations and learn things about people that I didn't know or would ever know. It was watching beautiful freedom fly by the window and trying not to miss anything. As things wound down and I relaxed a little I became more aware of the girl beside me. I could smell the fruity gum she was chewing and the scent of fresh laundered clothes, two things that I had not smelled in years. I didn't realize how much I had missed them until I sat there and realized how much I enjoyed them. I stole a glance at the CD cover in her lap and was surprised to see that it was "Rumors" by Fleetwood Mac, a CD that was originally on vinyl and older than her, I felt sure. Before long we were crossing a ling bridge over the Mississippi river that connects St. Louis Illinois to St. Louis Missouri, then the arch came into view, and soon after we were at the bus station. I got off the bus and made my way thought the crowd to the pay phones. I wasn't calling anyone, only pretending to so I could checkout everything going on around me while doing something to "fit in". The more I looked at people doing their own thing I came to realize that I was flattering myself to think that my presence would draw anymore attention than any of these other people were receiving.

Shortly my bus number was called and I got in line to board. I was close to being the last to get on and when I did I realized I was facing the same limited seating as before...and as before I saw a slim white arm in the air and a hand waving at me. It was the same girl. This time she smiled at me and said that I needed to be quicker in order to get the good seats. From that moment until we reached Dallas that girl never shut up...and still today I'm thankful. She was the most refreshing breath of fresh are that I've ever heard. I learned that she was 18, fresh outta high school, on her way to Taylor, Texas to spend the summer with her friends and then on to college. She was the youngest of a large farming family in Illinois and this was her first trip away from home by herself...I learned nearly everything about her and her family, high school sweetheart, dog named Goober and cat named Jerry. She liked vanilla ice cream over chocolate, grilled cheese with pickles, and thought that peas were about the nastiest tastin' thing in the world unless they had a lotta butter and a scoop of miracle whop on, then they were okay. She talked and talked and I just sat there with a half smile absorbing every wonderful word. Every so often she would check her watch and then get out her cell phone and call home. She would promise her mom that everything was fine, tell her where she was, and baby talk Goober before she hung up. I realized that she had a justification for being nervous...this was her 1st experience being on her own and being away from her family. My reason seemed trivial compared to hers and I almost felt guilty.

When we got to Memphis we had a 2 hour lay over so we took a short walk around the area checkin' out the lights of down town. We stopped in a little rib shack and she ordered some jumbo onion rigs and I ordered a big ass BBQ sandwich that she ended up sharing with me...but only if I would eat some of her onion rings. From Memphis we had an all night ride to Dallas where we parted ways. The rattled on for nearly the whole trip and when it seemed like she was slowing down I would ask a question and she would be off and running again. I thought that someday she would drive her husband crazy...but a good crazy.

That was my favorite trip for two reasons. 1st, I had just left a deranged alienated world where loneliness was the soup of the day and madness what lurking near by searching for a companion. 2nd, the girl was riding shotgun with me. Everything about her was in total contrast with the life I had known and the world I had just left. Where I spend part of my day making the wrong decisions and the other part trying to rebound from them, she was just starting out in life and determined to make all the right ones, and in her words, "maybe making things better". She took me in and made me comfortable on a day when I needed it most. Thank you Ashley...for me, you made things a lot better...

P.S. Chanztell, I woulda loved reading the rest of your "Bloody intense moment"! That small tease was bloody cruel to a man like me who waits months between essay packets and anticipates reading yours first. Write long and often, Featherwood.