I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

In The Stranger's House.

I took a temporary part time that involves driving to strangers’ houses to deliver a questionnaire. Some of the neighborhoods are a little rough, not only the snow or mud covered driveways but the actual neighborhood is rough. Usually it takes 2 or 3 minutes per residence and I get back in the car, that’s the key word get back in the car.

Following my schedule and map, I visited a trailer, thanked the guy full of tattoos and left. Moved on to another house and decided it was going to be my last house. Getting too dark and beginning to rain. Time to go home.

I stepped out of the car noticing the sign a few feet past the driveway that read “Rough Road”, the road narrowed and the snow covered it. Trees and bushes framed it. I knocked on the door, no one opened so I left the questionnaire hanging by the door and hurried back to the car…but that was as far as I got, the car’s electronic locks had malfunctioned twice before and now it was time to do it again leaving me stranded in a driveway, car running, temperatures dropping and rain falling.

My phone was in the car, I thought of running home 8 miles away but my sneakers were in the car. I started walking to the last house I had visited about ½ mile away all along feeling like I was in a Stephen King book waiting for someone with an ax to jump from behind a tree. I reached the trailer, the young man with tattoos up to his nose opened. He let me use his cell and then I realized that I don’t know anybody’s number, not even my mother’s. I dialed a number that has remained in my memory I don’t know why and asked if she knew the phone number of a friend who lives nearby. Nope, she did not.

Now, what?

The tattoo guy offered to drive me to the friend’s house. But of course the house was pitch black so he waited for plan B – what a nice guy. “Take me to Dutch’s” I said. “The Bar???” he said with a tint of surprise in his voice. “Yes, I might run into a friend there”, I said at the risk of sounding like a regular at the local bar but I am sure my new tattoo friend wouldn’t think anything of it.

He drove me to the bar and offered to wait in case I didn't find anyone. I did find my friend there and her son drove me home to get a spare key. Sometimes strangers make our day.
A happy ending to my tale. My friend has no idea how glad I am that she is a regular at the bar….