Orientation Week (Part 2)

I went to the moon and back during my trip from the lobby to room 130. She only told me his name, Dan.

He could be one of those weird dudes who leaves piss bottles and shit bags at truck stops. Is he going to stare at me while I sleep?[1] Cheetos pillow case! The Horror! THE END IS APPROACHING!!!!

Calm down. Be objective. Clean slate, don’t generalize.

I opened the door with a Dominoes Pizza room key.

It’s 0715[2] and from the room a curious, “hello?”

My minute panic disarmed the volume control part of my Broca’s area[3], letting out a tremulous scream, “Hey man! Here for the Con-way orientation?”

“Ya ya ya. You must be tired, man. Where’d you come from?” Quick with his words, but very smooth, very relaxed. I’m beginning to feel what I’ll soon know; Dan’s a cool cat.[4]

Through his Mexican accent, he speaks with a curiosity in a higher tonal voice. It’s humbling in a way; I know he’s as interested in me as I am in him. It’s also pragmatic, like the organized suitcase he keeps his bathroom supplies in so the hotel maids can easily clean the countertop.

We started discussing life in Laredo, Texas[5]. The border. He used to work on an oil field but was one of many laid off. Now he’s working for Con-way. Joplin’s the first time he’s ever left home (on the states side).  Later, he would show me pictures of his wife and three children.

I woke up tense. I woke up nervous. I felt the stomach acid creeping up. Not for fear of the open road[6] nor the lot lizards.[7] I was nervous about telling my parents. That’s right! I left them in the dark on this one. I’ll spare the details on why. Regardless, I decided today was going to be the day. Call up my pops, pacing the parking lot.

“Hellllo?!” Excited to hear from his youngest son of three, third child of four.

Panicked, loud voice again. Here my head gets fuzzy so I lost memory of our exact conversation; it was something along the lines of, “Whatcha up to, pops?” In one way or another he responded with something like “Nothing son, just with your sister, mother, brother, brother’s friend, neighbor, etc. etc…. Driving your sister down 55 to St. Louis. Moving her into school. Everyone’s here! If you’ve got some shocking news, the current time sure would be incredibly awkward! Is there something you needed?”

“Nope, uhhhhh, just calling to say hi!”

I decide to call my other brother, Danny, over in Denver “Oh God, Brian”[8] Danny, being a mini version of Joe McMahon[9], reminded me that pops might not take it that bad after all. I make my way back to the lobby. 

Dan, my roommate, not my brother[10], happens to be relaxing on a lobby couch. We get to talking about my parents, his parents (things of that nature). Dan’s dad was a pastor. Born on the American side, Dan’s dads’ occupation to/with God led his family to leave Lardeo and occupy various towns and terrains in Mexico. 11 years later, Dan graduated from middle school and his family made the voyage back to Laredo. Tuition burdens cut his college education short, work at McDonalds followed. To support his family he worked up to higher paying jobs. Customs broker[11] and labor on an oil rig. Both jobs fell thru due to low demand, but the oil experience left him a licensed commercial driver. Dan’s dream remained the same, to give his children an education. Open a door to opportunities, giving them access to whatever brings them happiness.

He’s shocked to hear I have a bachelor’s degree and I’ve chosen to go into trucking, The burdens of College tuition, it appears, has brought us both to Joplin. Still, he believes trucking will prove a worthwhile venture for me[12]. I like Dan. In many ways, he reminds me of my dad.

The rest of the day, when I wasn’t napping or hunting for Thai food we talked some more. He likes Christian music so I showed him some Sufjan.[13] Growing up they had four TV channels. Saturday Notre Dame Football on NBC became a second ritual; we watched them yesterday when I started writing this post. This morning, he went to church. He keeps his side of the room really clean, and doesn’t mind my messy ways.

By the next morning, I was down the street at Con-way corporate headquarters. I’m fairly certain I signed some documents to not disclose any company secrets.[14] Meh, besides grey walls and power points nothing much happened anyhow. During a break, however, something caught my eye. “University of Illinois Football” in XL t-shirt format. I inquired to the older gentleman who was 5 foot 6 in chair and 6 foot 5 standing up. Two tooth pics dancing from cheek to cheek as Mike Werle spoke of the current pitfall of our alma’s dynasty. For someone of his stature, his voice threw me off at first. But like warmer waters, it quickly felt justtttt right. Slightly nasally and slightlier high pitched. Not like a child, but it certainly keeps a child’s curiosity intact. Most accurately, a smooth euphonium.

Mike grew up in Belleville, Illinois and played football for the U of I in the 70s. After graduation he used his finance degree for an honest attempt at the white-collar life in Minneapolis. Six months later, his calculations convinced him to give sports another go. He spent much of his adult life traveling the states playing in a Professional Men’s Softball league, he's fond of these years. Years of physical activity and Steeley Dan concerts upgraded him to a titanium right hip, and a polished left knee. Dan’s a fan of Pink Floyd too and, overall, is well versed in music. He’s also a fan of Mavis Staples, mostly because he was Jeff Tweedys’[15] little league baseball coach for 6 years. Jeff’s mom, Mike’s close friend, told him recording with Mavis Staples made Jeff feel like he had ‘made it’.[16] We both erupted with joy when we discovered our mutual admiration for the Tweedy.

After surgery, fishing kept Mike in his maximum glory. He now shares his love for music and nature with his girlfriend. Ellen works at Washington University, down the block from my sister in St. Louis. The only sports he enjoys watching is college basketball, it’s the only one that still feels “real”. Behind fishing in Alaska and New Zealand, Mike’s bucket list has “truck driving” penciled in.

During lunch, a heated Fox News debate about gun violence drowns out potential conversation. Most eyes were fixed on the tv, Dan Mike and I made small talk in the back.  Dan filled him in on my situation, and Mike inquired on my parents’ profession. “I like your dad. He’s alright by me if he doesn’t lobby for the NRA.” I knew then, I found my crew.

After that first day, I go for round two. I’m going to tell my parents straight up. No bullshit. “Hey dad, I’m going to tell you something, you might not like it but I think, after awhile, you’ll understand and I’m going to make enough money in a year to pay off loans, but its kind of a different job so you might be upset, but either way, I’m doing it.”

“Okay, that’s fine, what is it?”

“I’m going to drive a truck.” As in across all forty-eight states. And Canada. Much to my surprise my dad was all right with it. He just wanted to make sure that I thought, “it was the right move.” By the next day he grew more curious, and by this morning he loved it! Thrilled to the point of sharing his delight with friends and family. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it. Surprisingly, my sister took it the worst. Some words that come to mind: “dumb” “this is dumb” “no” and “why?. And my mother was scared, but not surprised. Rock-climbing acclimated her to this point, I knew she was ready.[17] At this point, the family is on board. I’m here, happy as a peach to have their support.

I spent the following days swimming in Joplin’s rivers and running through its subdivisions. On an afternoon walk, Mike and I walked to a  nearby nursery/organic food shop in the space between shopping malls and a Food 4 Less.[18] Mike tells me they grow basil and other herbs at their home in St. Louis. We talk about greed in politics, my rock climbing and his canoeing trips, and how sports arenas are bad for local economies, “those major stadiums aren’t getting any of my money.” When we ring up our organic apples and granola I remind myself that I’m talking with a former U of I linebacker.

The third day we grab some grub at Kinnaree Thai.[19] We all love spicy food. Mike tells Dan about how he hates Notre Football, but thinks they are very wise to make the NBC deal way back when. If they hadn’t who knows if they would’ve lost the 2013 championship to Alabama, Mike’s favorite team.

The fourth and final day of orientation came around. We get some Panera food from Panera bread.[20] Our friend Anne drove us. She’s one of a kind. She taught us about paid phone numbers. Apparently you can pay to have any code phone number after an "**". For example, you could pay $12 a month for "**croissant". I won’t share Anne’s number, but hers is far quirkier. Anne is creating a website for recipes while on the road. You bet your ass I’ll be cooking with Anne this year.

We were assigned our trainers and sent back to the hotel to wait until our mentors make break from shipping season[21]. Dan and I made our way to Mike’s room to say goodbye since his trainer is meeting him in STL.

I see a Willie Mays book on his bed. Mays and Mike shared a birthday. During Mays’ heyday, Mike’s parents took him to see his hero in San Francisco. 

“I knew it was his birthday. After the 7^th inning they took him out, so I go down next to the dugout.” Back then you could follow players up and out of the stadium if your heart desired. Though no one did because you wouldn’t be allowed back in the stadium. Well, young Mike followed him out to his cab and in one breath said, “Mr. Mays I know its your birthday and its my birthday too so I wondering if you’d sign my ball for me.”

“And my god, he signed my ball. My hero, signs my ball and takes me back and tells the security at the door its my birthday and to let me back in for the rest of the game.” The gladness in Mike’s eyes makes it a shared experience for Dan and I.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked

“May the 6^th” he said as matter of factly. 

No shit. I show him my ID. The three of us can’t get over it.

“So is Orson Welles.” I respond.

“That’s right. And George Clooney.” Oh ya, he’s a May 6er.

We help him bring his luggage to the parking lot. We meet his girlfriend he’s talked so much about. She takes a picture of the three of us and gives me her card in case my sister needs anything in St. Louis. We wish each other safe travels and hope to see one another on the road.

The past two days have been slow moving. 20 miles of running and walking around Joplin. Swimming in rivers, reading and anticipating the road. Right now, I’m stationary. I’m content. When Dan and I aren’t sharing stories and thinking out loud, we’re enjoying each other’s company. If he goes for a swim while I’m in here writing, he’ll leave his room key. He offers me Dominoes pizza, and I offer him my Kung Pow carry out. I’ll listen to music while he watches Notre Dame football or I’ll read a little and he’ll talk to his family. I’m reminding myself to enjoy the nuances of another’s presence. In a month, I’ll be done driving with my trainer. I will be in a truck by myself for, hopefully, a long while. Dan is one person away from complete solitude. Until Wednesday the La Quinta Inn is my home and Dan is my family.

(fuzzy/only photo)

 


Handshake Drugs – Wilco

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vF1o6zg9vI

Oh I was chewin' gum for something to do
The blinds were being pulled down on the dew
Inside, out of love, what a laugh
I was looking for you

Saxophones started blowin' me down
I was buried in sound
The taxicabs were driving me around
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown
Oh it's okay for you to say
What you want from me
I believe that's the only
Way for me to be
Exactly what do you want me to be?
Exactly what do you want me to be?

---

[1] Dan I know you’re reading this. Probably while I’m in the hotel room next to you. These are jokes. I really had these concerns tho :0

[2] Remember! Military/Europe/ Trucker time

[3] ^ a region in the frontal lobe of the dominant hemisphere of the hominid brain with functions linked to speech production. However, if its stress related it probably also involves the amygdala:

[4]

[5] Con-ways’ second biggest terminal behind Joplin, MO

[6] bring it on, road!

[7] Bring it on, lot lizards!

[8] Definitely not as hard as being a camp counselor for ten pubescent 13 year olds in the mountains of Wyoming.

[9] Joe McMahon=dad

[10] Dan = Roommate. Danny = Brother

[11] A profession that involves the "clearing" of goods through customs barriers for importers and exporters (usually businesses). This involves the preparation of documents and/or electronic submissions, the calculation and payment of taxes, duties and excises, and facilitating communication between government authorities and importers and exporters.

[12] Perhaps I convinced him of this! I’ll take it!

[13] He was into it, but Seven Swans unnerved him and rightfully so, the Book of Revelations is terrifying enough. We don’t need an allegory song with demon birds! https://youtu.be/99TCWaHmWKc

[14] Shhhhhhhh - ; )    http://www.food.com/recipe/real-new-york-style-cheesecake-supreme-365946

[15] Wilco, people!

[16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KW0kE6mucFY

[17] Love you MOM! Call whenever, we’ll talk.

[18] We talk about how it’s the opposite in cities. Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks between mom and pop shops, record stores.

[19] My spot

[20] Bagels and bagel sandwiches. Maybe a fruit cup.

[21] Shipping season = always