Day Two-Hundred-Twenty-Six, Gojira

I saw my first crocodile today.  The first of many, I'm told.  I was looking down on him from a bridge.  All I could see were his eyes.  I cannot say whether he saw me.  I rather suspect that he did.  There is power in Evil.  Not as much as it thinks, but more than in you or me.

There are good people in Florida.  Most try to put me at my ease.  And fail, God bless them.  I have a good mind.  I overanalyse things.

"If you don't bother them, they won't bother you."  Who's to know what gators find irksome?  Or how very quick their tempers are, or just what might set them off.  Trundling by when they're trying to sleep.  The very dullness of my teeth.  The length of my legs, the cut of my jib.  Camping in their sacred wood.

"They're fairly inactive in the winter months."  It was seventy-eight degrees today.  I'm getting sunburnt.  I'm all asweat.  It seems plenty warm to me.  What do they care if it's January.  The calendar means nothing to them.  And even if they murder me now they won't eat me until May.  They like their meat aged.  They're funny that way.  That takes yearlong planning.

"Jesus will look after you."  Good Christians die all the time.  In awful ways.  Jews, as well, and we all know God likes them best.  But who knows, He may have plans for me.  Perhaps I'll inspire a tract.  On just what happens to Atheists.  They think they're so friggin' smart.

"You almost never read about gator attacks."  Almost never, indeed.  And yet everyone seems to know someone who met their end that way.  Or at least lost a limb or their sense of humor.  I'm sure some victims are never missed.  Serial killers like prostitutes.  Gators are partial to hoboes.

"You'll be fine if you stay away from the water."  Humour me by calling up your map.  I'm on Highway 98/27/19, just south of Perry, Florida.  Let Google show you my world from space.  Zoom in.  See those little blue dots?  Count them and multiply by 25,000.  That's how many gators there are.

There's just one of me.  I'd like to keep it that way.  No fraction less will do.  While you have your maps open, take a look at my road ahead.  I am pointed more or less at Orlando.  Lookee there, more blue dots.  And each one teaming with crocodiles, every one of them hungry. 

But I'll likely survive.  I always do.  I'll be around for a while.  If anyone else had lived my life, he would be dead by now.  By his own hand if nothing else.  I still have things I want to do.  I'll be fine.  I got past the grizzlies.  I got past the rattlesnakes too.

Of course Florida has bears and snakes as well.  It has prison work farms.  And wildcats and poisonous spiders, street gangs and dangling chads.  I'll finish with a walk across a very long bridge.  I'm glad I saved this state for last.

Positive Thinking might help a bit.  It is all I really had today.  It was hot.  I was hungry.  I've got blistered feet.  It was Montana all over again.  And I've lost another strap on my pack, a small but crucial device.  The last of two that kept it cinched up and took the weight off my shoulders.  Walking has gotten more difficult.  I'm glad I've got the strength of ten men.

I was again late getting back on the road.  I'm inclined to blame the weather.  I thought it was raining but it was just fog, condensing when it hit the trees.  I was blind for my first five miles.  It's Sunday; traffic was light.  I like fog; it's magical.  Especially in these trees.

But it did little to distract me from my wounded feet.  Every step brought real pain.  And I had fifteen miles between me and Perry and my first shot at some food.  I ate up all I had last night.  I'm lucky I wasn't eaten by bears.  I suppose the crocodiles might have got them.  None of us are safe.

Nine miles in was a highway rest stop.  I don't see many of them.  They tend to be on the interstates.  Lady volunteers give you coffee.  And donuts if the gods are smiling.  They accept cash donations.  This place had a Coke machine.  Calories are calories.

It was very well kept but kind of spooky.  There was still some fog.  And it is surrounded by a wire topped fence.  It looked something like a prison.  But I got plugged in for an hour or two, and made friends with LaDonna, who looks after the place.

She has a neat job if you can look past the fact that she has to pick up after strangers.  Few of them remain strangers for long.  LaDonna's a people person.  She has a warm greeting for everyone.  It's a good place to meet people.  Most are good, and if they are not, she will, in keeping with corporate policy, take them outside the fence line before kicking their ass.

She took me to see her pet, Ellie May, a gator who lives in the back.  In a very small  drainage pond.  She was hiding today.  As were her five offspring.  It is troubling that they are so hard to see and can live in so little water.

LaDonna used to have a cat there, as well.  It seems to have disappeared.  God only knows what became of it.  One of life's mysteries, I guess.

I enjoyed talking to her.  I could have stayed there all day.  But I needed to get myself fed.  It is food that drives the machine.  The next six miles were not pleasant.  I was in nine kinds of pain.  I didn't get into down until four o'clock.  I made my way to a pharmacy.

It smelled like feet.  They make paper nearby.  I meant to buy moleskin.  And some fancy pain pills.  I forgot them both.  Tomorrow is going to suck.  I did buy some candy.  I'd eat it now but the bears would hear the cellophane.

At Perry I faced a fork in my road.  I had no clue which way to go.  In the end I followed my tummy.  It took me directly south.  Where I got stuck at a Burger King.  I'd had my heart set on Waffle House.

But one makes do.  It was getting dark.  It was a race to get out of town.  If I hadn't spent up my motel budget I would have stayed indoors.  Instead I found this place in the woods, two-hundred yards from that gator.  Coyotes are howling not far off.  I hope they scare off the bears.

Happy dreams.

"AND RACCOONS!" -- added by a helpful stranger to my list of wild animals that might kill me.  There are feral hogs, as well.

DANGLING CHAD would make a fine porn name.  I offer it for your use.

LITTLE DEBBIE-brand Fruit Pies are not as good as Hostess Fruit Pies but they are cheaper and they come in a box.  I don't know if Dolly Madison makes a fruit pie, but she does make Zingers, which, as far as I can determine, are Nature's Perfect Food.  In the future when I'm really rich, I'm not going to eat anything but Zingers.

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