I want to tell a story, but, before I start, I want everyone to know the offers of help and support from my wonderful problem-solving friends have left me touched and deeply humbled. My heart is filled with love and happiness. Everything is under control, and I am going to be OK!
Some of you read the introduction on this blog that traces the origins of my obsession with riding my bicycle across the country.
In Part 2 of the introduction, I briefly recounted a period where I lived in a “roach motel” in San Diego. I left out some details that I love to recount (for the sake of brevity), but have never written down, so here they are:
During this period, I had no transportation, and my minimum-wage five-day-a-week job paid almost exactly what I owed each week for rent. This left effectively no money for food.
The owner of the convenience store knew his employees were going to eat things, so his rule was that you could have as much popcorn and fountain drinks as you wanted. I decided the fake “Orange Julius” beverage was probably the most nutritious of those beverages, so I lived on enormous amounts of popcorn and this orange drink.
The problem was that I had two days off, and virtually no money for food. When I had no money, I simply didn’t eat for those two days. But sometimes I would be able to hoard or scrape together one or two dollars. When I did, the challenge was to find the most filling food for the least amount of money, and I decided the best available solution was flour tortillas I could buy really cheaply at a bakery outlet store in downtown San Diego, whose main clientele were the homeless, or, like me, the nearly homeless.
I’d carefully ration these bland tortillas, deciding when I could allow myself to eat each one, and I would think about that tortilla incessantly until the time came to savor it. With nothing on them, of course.
Yesterday, on Facebook, we were discussing ways of getting food delivered to my motel room. It turns out things like Uber Eats haven’t made it to West Yellowstone, MT, and I was really surprised there wasn’t a Pizza Hut, since they’ve been really common in small towns all across the country.
Susan and I discussed sending cash via Western Union, which is slightly more complicated because I have no identification. I was a little uneasy about that for a few reasons, including my sense that Western Union preys on the poor and immigrants.
But then I realized something! Yesterday, I mentioned I still had $20 when I lost my wallet. I always keep $20 in my tool bag, just in case something happens. Well, this counts as something!
So I walked to the grocery store, and walked out with a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of marmalade, for $9.17!
As Susan said, “You’ll feast like a king!”
This is reminiscent of that period almost 40 years ago when I often went hungry, but occasionally had the means to feast on day-old tortillas.
But I recognize the difference between reminiscing and reliving! Back then, there was no Susan, and no debit card arriving via FedEx!
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