“My life has a superb cast but I can’t figure out the plot.” ~Ashleigh Brilliant
I have 1 wonderful sister. We’re 11 years apart. I always wished my folks had opted for a few more siblings in those in-between years. If they’d had me first, it might have taken a while to work up the nerve, but my sister was sweet and submissive.
One of the most oft asked question about gate guarding is: don’t you get lonely? Oh gosh, now that’s a misconception worth a paragraph or two. I talk to more people on an average day at the gate than I have in any job since I was the director of counseling at a crisis intervention center.
It’s taken 50 years, but I finally got my wish. I now have brothers, tons of them. Since this is our second rig gig together, I know about their wives/girlfriends, trucks, drinking habits, dogs and favorite pizza toppings. I’m sort of a sister/counselor. I’m choosing brothers over sons since I refuse to be a mom to any other than my own. That’s way too much responsibility and besides, I’m old, but not quite that old.
Since we’re starting our 3rd week at this site, most of the crew can find it now. It’s a long way between sign post on these back roads. Rarely is there a night I don’t have at least a couple of lost drivers.
Personally, I have no problem asking for directions. But then, I’m a woman. I find no shame in being lost in unfamiliar places. While almost everyone cheerfully proffers up directions, I’m frequently amazed at how infrequently people seem to know the names of the streets in their own town, preferring landmarks to street names.
“Go a few blocks up-that-away (pointing in a direction I can’t possibly discern from the middle isle in the Super S) and head left at Gillys. Just keep goin until you pass the Hall. There’s a road there. Don’t take it. Go on a ways until you come to the fork in the road where you’ll wanna head north. If you pass the Johnson place you’d better head back this ways cause you’ve missed your turn.” Sometimes it’s best to drive a block in any direction, and ask again. But as I’ve said, I don’t mind asking.
Weary and lost somewhere in southern Texas
Guys are different that way. Guys are supposed to like sports, spit (one of my favorite Texas topics) and have an innate sense of direction. It’s so un-masculine for a guy to admit that he’s lost that most guys just keep on driving, hoping to end up in the right spot while still looking cool. That’s the whole reason behind 2 week vacations. After so many scenic side trips, you need some time to relax after you get there.
It’s different if they land on my RV fake green grass carpet at 2:00a.m. These are desperate men, lost men, tired men, men who are in trouble with the company because they’re late. They have no choice but to ask for directions. I always try to be gentle with them.
Maybe it’s just because I work nights, but everyone always looks so tired. The lost guys look especially tired. In spite of their own fatigue, they still show concern. For example, I’ve been told 3 times tonight that I should get some boots (cowboy, not rain) due to the influx of snakes. Everyone here wears boots, cowboy or steel-toed, and their feet hurt.
Maybe they need Dr Scholls? As I’ve mentioned, often now, I try not to watch commercials but sometimes, even on fast-forward, the scary images leap out at me.
I have nothing against Dr Scholls (or Snickers which I’ll comment on soon) but creepy is just creepy, even if the product is OK. And the talking blue eyeballs/ dismembered foot commercial is creepy to the max.
There isn’t much dialogue. The chef says: “I’m a chef. I need a break”. I’m guessing that’s suppose to be obvious since he is, after all, a chef…
The eyeballs quickly assess the situation:
First eyeball says:”He needs some gellin!”
The second eyeball answers:”Ya! Dr Scholls is like having a teeny tiny foot masseuse in your shoe!”
OK, this is where it really gets creepy. In theory, the concept sounds all right, but I have a very limited imagination. I surely didn’t picture the next frame. 
This commercial alone has convinced me to hold off on the cowboy boots.
It’s Tuesday (barely, 11:55 p.m.) which means it’ll be a busy night. About 1/3 of our guys rotate out and in on Tuesdays. The rest are either here from start to near finish, like us, or stay for a week or two until their particular aspect is finished. For the 7 on, 7 off guys, Tuesday’s the marker. The guys going home are pumped. The guys just returning look tired already. I’ll hear their homecoming stories tomorrow. So far I know that Jimbo got skunked in the bass tournament and Beau ran over a neighbor’s cat.
After 3 months of gate guarding with an ever increasing cast, I still don’t have any idea what the plot is, but so far, it makes for a interesting story.
FORK IN THE ROAD 