We were going to get picked up.
The universe had no choice in the matter. We were getting a ride - I don't care what fate said.
We did end up getting a ride, but we had to split up first. Hitchhiking with two guys is rarely an easy task, so after an hour, we decided to separate. The moment Frank stepped off the highway to let me hitchhike solo, a blue pickup truck rolled up behind me.
I jumped in and listened to Graeme as he regaled me with tales about his efforts in assisting people in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina. He told me about some of the dangers of being a white man in the hoods where he'd worked - racial prejudice hung over such areas like a dark, bigoted blanket. An armed bodyguard had had to accompany him at all times, just to protect him and the colour of his skin.
Fortunately, we weren't in the hood right now, but the place he dropped me off was almost as shitty. I spent the next hour and a half having violent battles with armies of mosquitos and faltering under deadly rays of sun as they both worked to annihilate my skin.
Hope had just started to fade when a crimson station wagon pulled over in front of me. The passenger seat was loaded with an awesome site: a smiling Frank.
I slid into the backseat and let the ride to Regina pass fairly quickly, trying to take in the nonexistant Saskatchewan scenery. Despite its absence, it is, somehow, still beautiful. The stretch between the Current and Moose Jaw is the flattest part of the prairies and potentially the world; so long and desolate that you can see the curve of the earth.
I was quite satisfied with the outcome of the last few days - a reunion with an old friend, banking $35 just from the people who had picked me up, and repairing my broken brain to the point of being able to hold an intelligent conversation again. We rolled into Regina bursting with fresh excitement. I was ready to take on my family again. I missed those bearded, blue-haired, asian fucks. Hopefully they'd get along with Frank... wouldn't they?
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