Ditat Deus

Thanks to Face and Catfish for hosting my wonderful time spent out west. It was a really interesting trip. The music, the greyhound, the mexican food, the mountain, etc., etc. I hope to see you and all the rest of you on my side of the pond one day.

now i am at the coffee plantation on mill in tempe.

i got off the greyhound at 1.30am. no taxis available. i was supposed to meet former coworkers of my brother's at Casey Moore's. I walked from the Greyhound station to Sky Harbor. A cop interceded and asked what I was doing drifting on airport ground at night (with two bags, a Rock Out With Your Cock Out hat, and an America: United We Stand t-shirt). I guess he thought I wasn't a terrorist. He told me to get on the sidewalk. I could get killed in the street. A woman picked me up in an employee shuttle bus. She speaks with a thick mexican accent. I have to strain to assemble her sounds. Also the engine is loud. I told her I needed a taxi. She took me to Terminal 4. She likes working at night. It's quiet at the airport. During the day, she studies at community college. Wants to learn how to make prosthetic limbs. Says it's important to know many trades.

I get dropped off at Terminal 4. I approach a woman in a booth and ask for a taxi. She says there are none. Go ask inside. I enter the terminal. There's no one there. Outside, a kid is reading philosophy at a stand that advertises taxis and limos. He puts down his book. I ask him for a taxi. He calls up and says there is none.

I go inside and call my girlfriend in France to complain. The connection busts up. I go outside. A taxi is coming. An arabic man takes me to Tempe. It is 2.45, Casey Moore's is closed. My brother's friends were supposed to recognize me by my Rock Out With Yer Cock Out hat. No one's there. I don't have a phone number to call. I try walking up Mill, to see if they'll spot me by luck. No such luck. I thought about jumping my way into a Saturday night party with the drunken revelers driving by, but a drunken driving accident among strangers is not how I want to perish, I decide. I go back to Circle K. I get an apple and Chex Mix. I sit outside circle for an hour or so. The young guy behind the counter comes out to smoke a cigarette and tells me that he's cool with me staying there, but if his boss comes, he'll make me leave. An hour or so later, I try the handle of the adjacent laundromat. It's open. To my surprise, a very comfortable couch is available. I put down my bags and watch the CNN coverage of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath. I fall asleep.

The boss pulls up in an old junk heap. He sees me at a moment when I had just woken up and was jumping up to press the ceiling, to press a light fixture that was making an insupportable buzzing sound. He scowls at me. He marches through the Circle K and unlocks the door to the laundromat.

"What are you doing here? Who let you in?"

"The door was open."

"Get out of here."

I pick up my bags and think of something snappy to say.

I say, "Thank you, kind citizen. The community thanks you for putting me back on the street."

I go back to sitting in front of the Circle K. David comes by an offers me a cigarette. I've been trying to quit and it's actually been a whole day, but for this offer, I accept. He calls me "my friend." He's here for when the 6am first beer. It's 5.58 and he's got two minutes to kill. He asks how I ended up in front of Circle K this fine morning. I tell him. When I tell him I'm here on my grandmother's frequent flyer miles, he says, "I'm sorry if your grandmother has passed."

"No," I say, "but she's 87 and she's not gonna fly any more."

David's a good guy. He said some other friendly things. He offered a cigarette to two other people loitering around. Finally 6am rolls around and he picks up his beer. "Have a good day, my friend."

I sit and read a story in a magazine. Three or four more early risers come in for the 6am alcohol offerings. Two dudes pull up in a truck with a ladder on top. Another dude pulls up in another truck. The third dude says, "You painters?" They say, "Yep." The dude says, "You fellas need some help. I'm tired of turning screws." They make arragements for some work together.

Around 6.45, the boss comes out. He sees me. In a friendlier tone of voice, he speaks to me. "Sorry to have to mess up your day, but I really can't have you out here." I'd been ready to tell him to speak to me with respect if he speaks to me again like he did before. But he did come out with more respect, so I obliged. No problem. I'll be off. Something should be open on Mill by now.

I turn the corner onto University. I am stunned by the far eastern sky where a billowing cloud is outlined in impossible light. So much light, I can't see anything at the borders of the cloud. It is dazzling. I begin to smile. In a moment, an arc of the sun itself rises above the outline of the cloud. The face of the sun is radiating blue and red and yellow. I can't make sense of what I see except I know it's beautiful. I'm seven years old again when I fell in love with the sun and the desert and the exotic beauties here. I'm smiling automatically. What a sun. It rises and the whole eastern sky glows as a trumpet announcing triumphant day. What a sun. This isn't anywhere, man. This is Arizona. And this is my last day in Arizona until God knows when.