A Lesson in Patience
With a stiff thumb, I stand alone in the dripping rain underneath a miserable bridge: wet, tired, hungry. Hundreds of cars passing just as alone with a seat wide open but a door wide shut. Three hours slowly passed, and an expensive bus ticket was my only escape on this cold day of gray gloom. No smiles, no sympathy, not even a wave or an engaged brake light; only rooster tail drenches and a wet backpack on which I now sit with my dripping hood covering my tired brain, like a hoodlum on a rainy street corner. Soon my hand droops following my head and my heart. And right as I think to give up, stand up, and take a lousy bus, a green car approaches with foggy windows that slowly roll down to reveal a lovely, tan, elegant farm girl with a blanket, some food, and a ride all the way to Boston.
Written in Plymouth, VT 2010
Author’s Thought: This was the first time I’d hitchhiked on the east coast. My friend’s father had dropped me off in White River Junction, VT in the fall of 2010. I thought, “Vermont? No doubt, an easy place to get a ride. Generous and weird people all over.” Contrary to the poem, I did get a few bites, but they were only going a few miles down the interstate. I was trying to get down to Providence to meet a friend, and thought if I could only get to Boston I could easily take the train the rest of the way for a few bucks. I ended up waiting three hours in the miserable New England rain before I was rescued by the cutest farm girl from New Hampshire who was heading to pick up her daughter in Boston. A perfect getaway from the endless rain of Vermont.