Dyer Circumstances: Merced
I was stuck. The train station I hoped I could sleep in for the night closed, kicking me out on the sidewalk for the night. “No big deal,” I thought. I had slept on a bench in New York City after all. A quiet rural town in the middle of a California summer would be no problem for just one night. Or so I thought. After each mile long freight train that barreled past in a boisterous roar, there would be a lone man on a bike spinning in circles behind my bench. The moment I sat up he would ride off. Each time a different man riding a different bike than the last. It was a creepy feeling similar to walking into a room and you cannot find the light switch fast enough; only the imaginary green monsters were real.
I found myself in this little tough spot on my way to backpack in Yosemite National Park in the summer of 2016. I had flown solo across the country to San Francisco, fighting plane delays and lost bags with great success until the trains of California. A couple extra hours in the baking sun at the Hernandez station waiting on a train made for a late arrival to my final stop in Merced, California.
Sleepy Conductor
Still convinced I had been in worse places, I moved back to the desolate station platform where at the very least no one could approach me from behind. I pulled out my brown fleece, tucking my wallet and camera deep in my ancient yellow backpack. Again, I tried to get some rest between the horrendous sound and choking dust of Santa Fe freight trains rumbling off to distant places. Shortly after I settled into my most recent spot, I heard voices approaching. Jovial, filled with shrill laughter and laden with artistic foul language I sat up and hoped they would not make it to my end of the platform. They did.
The first woman came into view as she picked a rumpled cigarette butt from the ground and inspected it for any serviceable tobacco. It was right about then her sunken green eyes met mine with surprise. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked. She laughed and ushered her two friends to come say hello. A second woman with matted brown hair and a lanky individual who I would come to know as Anthony came into view. Without saying a word, Anthony started my way. His face was striking; scarred all over and tattooed with black ink. His long black pleather trench coat hid his size, but accentuated the large Buck knife strapped to his belt. Still sitting on the ground and definitely cornered I thought of Dorothy and wished I had a pair of Ruby slippers to carry me home. In that moment, all I could think was “this is the end of my time.”
Finally, Anthony grinned to reveal a hoard of crooked yellow teeth and said “bro I don’t know who you think you are but you sure as shit can’t stay here.” I was taken aback by his blunt warning. If a guy that as tough looking as Anthony was telling me to leave I started to feel a lot less confident. Somehow, I do not remember exactly how, Anthony convinced me that I should come stay in his apartment for the night. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had close to a foot of height and fifty pounds on him. In his words “I should be worried about you, not the other way around.” Regardless we walked down the street to his shabby apartment complex, his keyring jingling as he pushed open the stout fence that surrounded his apartment complex.
As we climbed the dimly lit stairs to his second story flat, Anthony turned and told me “I’m going to torque a bowl in a bit man. You are welcome to join.” First of all I had no idea what it meant to ‘torque a bowl,’ but I had a feeling it could end my military career. We walked into his apartment and several cats scurried about inside, jumping between the half dozen pot plants in the living room. Anthony really was quite the host, he pulled a chair and offered me a glass of water before I knew what to do with myself. Even though I appreciated his hospitality I decided it my best bet was to take on the Merced station.
Back at the platform I found two small outbuildings and tucked myself as far between them as I could. People still found me as they mulled around the station throughout. I could not believe it. Luckily, most of them were unsettled by my presence enough to disappear back into the shadows from which they came. Around 3am a rooster across the tracks started to call the morning awake, and I decided the benches had to be okay at this hour.
Right as I was nodding off to sleep a woman shuffled up to the bench adjacent to mine and plopped down. She was a talker for 3am. Her name was Christine and she had just been in a fight with her boyfriend. As she told me the details of their fight she pulled a little black case from her Dora-the-explorer backpack and started to prepare a needle with goodness only knows what. And right there on the next bench over I watched her slap the inside of her elbow and jam the needle into her arm. Shocked I managed to continue our otherwise light banter. Well then Tony (I think that was his name) peddled up on a red banana-seat bike with monkey handle bars and stopped just short of where we were sitting. In an aggravated voice “Christine get back to the house. I ain’t got time fo this shit.” Christine said she wanted to stay with me, her new friend. At this point you could probably hear my heart beating over the sound of passing trains because Tony was eyeing me like I was the root of all evil in the world. Tony did not look like a nice guy. After more verbal abuse, Christine gathered her things and disappeared to the shadows with Tony.
The sky was finally starting to lighten with dawn when James, wearing Nike slides a white t-shirt and glasses that could have belonged to Madea, came and slumped in the same spot Christine had been in hours ago. Poor guy lost all of his things last night while he camped in a yard blocks from where I spent the night. He hoped to get on a train for San Fran with the $15 in his pocket. We told stories of how we found ourselves in that place, and what transpired through the night. Both thankful to be alive and well.
Fifteen minutes late, the YARTS bus rolled into the parking lot at the station and I sprinted all the way to the open door and collapsed into the fuzzy blue chair.
