The fates are fickle. While you never know where they'll lead you, it's assured the path traverses seemingly endless abysses, breathtaking heights, execruciating climbs, and delightful downhills. The more you embrace the ride, the better it is. After days of stunning synchronicities the road led me to a small shopping center across the street from an I-5 onramp, somewhere in Northern Washington State, at the beginning of Summer 2011.
Sunny, late in the afternoon, i'd been dropped off by an old friend driving down from Vancouver BC whom i found out a few days before was going to the same music festival. When he'd heard i'd be hitching, Jacob offered to drop me off part way. He could take me to a supermarket parking lot where his American campmates would be loading up his vehicle, their supplies and food for four days of camping. i was halfway to the gorgeous Gorge Amphitheatre, the hardest part behind me. We hugged, confirmed which set we'd meet at, they went to the shops, and i went towards the highway.
Having already crossed the border, i figured this stretch would be easy. Spring semesters over, students from the university towns we'd passed would be flooding in my direction. Not to mention the hordes of Canadians flocking down away from the desert of fun in the North. The first cars coasted by, i raised my sign, Sasquatch Festival scrawled in bold letters with smiley faces, popped my thumb, and got to work.
Things moved pretty slow. With great reluctance i turned down a ride that led to Seattle. It wasn't worth getting stuck in the city, i figured it would be easy enough to catch a lift all the way to the campground. My friends came and went with their shopping, but before i had time to lose faith, a beat up, small brown car pulled to the side. Two young women with a vague hippy aesthetic waved me over. A wool serape blanket draped over their backseat, and a dream catcher hung from the rearview mirror, i didn't even think twice before piling in.
Sophie and Krystina, bubbly, warm, and charged with excitement. Krystina sat behind the wheel, carried an air of authority, and an aversion to showers. A few years older than her friend, her hair was short, and curly, eyeliner thick and messy, freckles and facial blemishes dotted under her muddy brown eyes. Charm bracelets and puka shells rattled with every expressive exaggeration she made while speaking. Honey eyed Sophie was a meek brunette, quiet, and sweet. i leaned into my seat, and let ease wash over me. Things had been going my way over the last few days, and i was looking forward to the weekend. A year or two younger than me, i figured like many of the other attendees they were college students celebrating the start of their summer off. Krystina gunned it onto the interstate, and the two welcomed me to "their adventure." Sophie was quick to regale me with a short recap of their road trip thus far as i searched for a non-existent seatbelt.
After a sufficient catch up, i asked which bands they were excited to see that weekend, and was a little thrown by how perplexed they were by my question. It turned out that not only were they not going to the festival, they hadn't even heard of it. They'd picked me up to join on their, as i was soon to understand, destination-less odyssey. The boisterous driver cut in as i explained the four day weekend "Oh, that's that hippie festival, right?!" She looked to her compadre riding shotgun, "we should go! Let's take this hippie to the party!"
i was quick to pitch the fest, and secure my ride. Krystina fired off questions about the festival, the attendees, and what the party was like. The speedometer rose like it was counting seconds around a clock chasing her racing thoughts. "Soph! Those hippie kids love drugs, they love to party! We could sell, make a bunch of cash, and keep our trip going!"
Somehow the relief thinking i'd secured a ride to the gates clouded her comment. The enthused motormouth went into more depth about the pair's confusing crusade, while her mildmannered friend coloured in the occasional detail, and added appropriate affirming yups. They'd been driving around the state since early the previous morning. Swept by the sudden winds of wanderlust, a current i knew all too well.
From the front Krystina swung her gaze from the hurtling highway to the backseat to inform me that henceforth, i would be called 'Hippie Kid,' and that we were making a stop. We pulled off the interstate a few exits later to their place so they could grab some clothes, and things to sell. Stretches of farmland led us to a small dilapidated forgotten town. Windows were bordered over the few scattered shops that made up the main drag. Lawns were overgrown. Paint peeled off houses. Desperation decorated the neighbourhoods. We parked at a multistory home, with a roof begging for repair. They beckoned me to follow them in, and promised we'd be fifteen minutes at most. Not trusting the area, i grabbed my bag and trailed behind. We circled around back, through a rusty chainlink fence, and in a hush, Krystina told me i'd have to be cool, that she owed a few people money, and skipped up a collapsing staircase. Sophie smiled, and assured me it was fine, "Krystina always has a plan, don't worry."
We entered a flophouse pulled straight from David Lynch's twisted imagination. As soon as i stepped in the kitchen a character that was the spitting image of Rodriguez's anti-hero Machete immediately began interrogating me. The two girls greeted him, took off, and said they wouldn't be long. With a big goofy smile i countered the suspicious man's energy with naive compliments on the home, and the various bike gang insignias patched across his leather vest. i explained i was hitchhiking from Vancouver and the girls had swooped me up. The moment i mentioned i was from across the border a shrill, watery voice interrupted me from another room. An excited rail thin man with greasy long hair shuffled in, picking at scabs decorating the blotchy tattoos of skulls and topless women that littered his forearm and proclaimed that the best crank he'd had in prison had come from Canada. His wild eyes danced as he blathered with joy about the quality of Canadian narcotics he'd enjoyed during his various incarcerations.
The other intimidating figure decided i was harmless enough and wandered off, leaving me to the substance sommelier's insights on street drugs. The deranged man intertwined a personal biography with a laundry list of intoxicants he'd sampled during his tour of jails across the continent. Down the hall i heard the girls bartering away, and when there was a polite enough pause in the methhead's monologue, i excused myself to join them. The house was rank with mildew and cat piss. Each room was crammed floor to ceiling with junk, and stolen property. Graffiti tags, slurs, and esoteric symbols covered what rare surface area sat exposed on the walls. i found Krystina bargaining with an enormous woman resting in a velvet green reclining chair that i doubted she ever strayed from. Ignoring them, Sophie rifled through a mound of clothes sitting on the floor. The obese matriarch's thick green glasses magnified her beady eyes as they scanned, then dismissed me, used to various vagrants coming and going in what i presumed was her home.
My discomfort peaking i found a somewhat sanitary place to sit, fished a novel from my bag, and read while i waited. The girls said they'd be another five minutes and disappeared. For the most part i was left alone. There was no better option than riding through this, i had to accept that i was in it now. At the very least i'd need to get out of town and back to the interstate, then seek another ride. Close to half an hour later they returned cackling away with half filled garbage bags carrying their clothes. After Sophie selected a few more pieces from the piles in the living room we were finally ready to set off.
In the fading light i saw the vehicle through fresh eyes. It was beat to death, covered in scrapes and scratches. Bungee cords attached to the rear wheel well held the trunk down, and on the farside's back seat door there was an enormous dent from a collision. When i pointed out the massive mark Sophie fell to hysterics, unable to get a sentence out between stitches of laughter. Krystina took over the story, and told me how they'd driven into the middle of a field, ripped donuts in the mud, lost control, smoked a fence post, and startled a herd of skittish cows.
The two spun in circles and mooed at each other while they relived their inside joke. Fearing the dark, i did my best to rush them inside the vehicle. "Don't worry Hippy-Kid, we need to get a little gas, then we'll be on our way to the party."
At the nearest petrol station the pair showed me their "trick." For the last thirty six hours they'd managed to fill their tank, or at least portions of it, by flirting with other drivers, and convincing them to pay for them. Krystina laughed as she hiked up her bra, and lowered her top, "it's so easy, men are so dumb."
At the mercy of the ride, all i could do was shrug, vacate the car, and read on the curb while they worked their magick. Ten minutes later, Sophie fetched me. i couldn't believe how fast they were. We found Krystina chewing on a chocolate bar with a map spread out across the hood of their car. When i expressed my disbelief with the speed of our good fortune, she rolled her eyes at the generosity. "Ya, but we only got half a tank."
Looking at the map i asked if the driver bought it along with the fuel. "What this? Nah," her mouth full, "we stole it inside."
It was time for me to find a new ride. Unfortunately i was still deep in the back country of Washington State, and had no idea where i was. With a finger on the map i pointed to the I-5, and asked her how far we were from it. The girl shrugged off my look of shock at how unfamiliar she was with the area she lived in. Reluctant to take the stolen map inside, i went alone, and asked the clerk the best way to the Gorge. He told me i was in luck, that the road we were on led not only to the interstate, but to a mountain pass that would take us to the festival site. There were two routes. Straight ahead was longer, but more direct, or i could try my best getting out somewhere along the interstate, and daisy chain to gates.
They made the decision for me. Thrilled when i told them we were on the right road, they leapt in the car with high spirits before i could offer the alternative. We headed to the mountains, my fate sealed. Inside Krystina blasted the radio and we took off. It was fine, it was an adventure, i'd make it to the fest with a story. Good enough.
Something was up. Krystina's driving was erratic, and the road difficult. Our destination hours away, i offered to take the wheel. It was an easy sell they'd been cruising all day. Turns out Sophie couldn't drive, and had some phobia about being in backseats. Krystina relented, we switched, and my nerves eased. At least i was in control of the vehicle. The sky darkened and the rural highway merged into two lanes. Up the winding mountain road we began to climb into the Cascades.
Looming evergreens hid the heavens, and the signal for the stereo dropped. With nod to their driving console ,i asked if they had any CDs to listen to. "Just one!" Sophie exclaimed, and began skipping through the disc. "i love this song! It's our anthem!"
A pulsating sine wave skittered over a programmed beat, and i winced when i recognized the opening lyrics as Krystina and Soph belted along to Owl City's song Fireflies. The kindest description of the single that i could give would be irritating at best. Still, i was determined to not only get through the evening as drama free as possible, but to try and have fun. So i joined in. Krystina was grooving in the back, smiling away, leaning between our seats when she'd join in the choruses, the whole moment felt like a scene in a movie. The song ended, it was fine. Then Sophie hit it back, and the cycle began. It was going to be a long, long night.
Out of nowhere, forty minutes later during eleventh rotation of Fireflies, Krystina began to panic, and clutch her chest.
Mascara tears rolled as she disclosed that not only that she had a medical condition, but that she was struggling to breath. i killed the music, and asked her if she wanted us to pull over or try to get to the next town. We were in the middle of the woods, on a quiet road, with no cell service, and had only passed a handful of other vehicles. There was no hope of help. Rapid solutions flashed, i squeezed the steering wheel to channel my concern, and keep my calm. The whites of my knuckles reflected off the windshield like little ghosts. i dropped the octave and speed of my voice and coached her breaths. Sophie reached back to hold her hand as i drove on, looking for a shoulder to pull over, or any signs that might indicate the distance to the next stop.
Mist rolled from the trees over the road, unusual for this time of year, and i turned on my high beams. As if from a sick stage cue, Sophie started acting out and screamed for me to watch out pointing to the woods. My eyes flashed and i swerved us to the safety of an empty passing lane. "What was it!?" i saw nothing, no deer, no cars, no people.
Sophie's shell shocked blues beamed like headlamps as she stared at me wide eyed. Krystina began hyperventilating in the backseat as her best friend whispered. "i just saw my dead grandmother's spirit."
Things were getting insane. i had seen nothing, but noticed Sophie's pupils looked a little abnormal. She had gone off the deep end, and Krystina was on the verge of blacking out. "Ok, she seems safe now though, doesn't she?" i encouraged, asking of her grandma while we kept up the steep, twisting road.
"She does, she does," then yelped back to her seat again with a start.
i kept my eyes peeled, and my cool level. The rolling fog covering our mazing passage would be difficult enough to drive without those knuckleheads losing their minds. Krystina checked in with me, as i asked easy, distracting questions, and had her following my breaths. Sophie released her hand, and balled up in her seat, hypnotized by the morphing greys. It was around this time that i noticed the gas gauge was leaning on empty.
It seemed impossible, we'd left the service station only an hour ago. The road began to level off, and a shoulder opened with a safe space to park. i stopped to check on Krystina. She was still struggling and we decided it was best to keep moving until we found a town, and medical attention. On my way back to the driver's seat i found the fuel tank door wide open, and the cap unscrewed and dangling. Splatters of gasoline marked the side of the car. The gauge wasn't broken, Krystina had forgotten to close it before we left.
My gut sunk and i sprinted to my seat, praying there was enough gas to fire the engine. The battered beast purred, and we set in motion, careful to stay in a low gear. There was no telling how much uphill lay ahead, i leaned forward gripping the wheel as if in prayer, willing the fortunes favour. Finally, after an excruciating endless climb, we reached the peak, and downhill arrived. The moment i was able to coast i dropped the vehicle to neutral. The difficulty of the steering increased immediately, matching the road's treacherous tight curves. But with the added danger, momentum came.
Despite the dire situation i fought to keep a peaceful ambience. Krystina was steady, and i managed to keep Sophie concentrated with questions about her grandmother. But the delusions only grew in abundance. She hallucinated more phantoms in the trees, jumping as if the dead were reaching for her. Her fear percolated to the backseat, amplified, and the horrific cycle took speed.
Yet providence took the wheel, and steered both the conversation and care to a place of calm. We were moving fine for a while, despite my pulse screaming underneath a collected exterior. Until Krystina shot upright with a struggled gasp, then collapsed to her seat. My right hand sprang behind me and i shook her with as much force as possible. "Krystina! Krystina! Wake up! Wake up!" my shouts distorted in Sophie's moans. i was stuck.
Should we've stopped, we likely wouldn't move again, stranded with no service or aid for the young woman. Should not, it might be her ghost Sophie saw cross through the forest next. All i could do was yell, and curse. My mind raced through the minimal amount of first aid training i'd had as my left hand guided us through the wooded route. CPR seemed the only option, but before i stopped intuition took control. My shaking hand balled to a fist, and struck above her heart. Dangerous, improper, i was guided by panic, inspired by a character i'd seen administering a shot of adrenaline to someone experiencing a drug overdose in an old, favourite film.
It worked.
Like a banshee she rocketed back upright howling and coughing. Sophie reached out and caught her in an embrace, and i tried to provide some encouraging words. That we were almost out, that she was ok, though i knew not that either was true.
Yet she was. Her breath steady, and the colour in her face returned slow but sure. Within five minutes the foliage broke, the starry sky returned, and in the distance i saw lights.
"i think those drugs are cut with something rough," Krystina confessed to Sophie, who nodded, and affirmed she felt awful aswell. "We'll have to be careful selling at the festival.
My heart sank. It all made sense. They'd scored at the flophouse. Now i was stuck with a bunch of wanna-be dealers moving through the United States, a country notorious for their ferocity in the war against drugs, in a car that might break down at any second. My mind scrambled to rationalize my situation. It was late, if the fumes of fuel got us to a gas station, my best choice would still be to continue forth. Everything should be okay. i had my sign, my friends that drove me down from Vancouver could verify my border crossing. i had my ticket, they didn't, the truth of a hitchhiking mishap had enough evidence should any problems with authorities arise. Even as the thoughts cemented my decision, i knew they were flimsy at best.
Krystina normalized, and began chattering away as if nothing had happened. In the distance a neon gas station sign beckoned, a brilliant and painful beacon, ushering us to salvation. Unwilling to wait for more of the girl's shenanigans, i marched inside and put twenty on our pump. As i left i saw them enter and start perusing the aisles. Outside i took no chances, sealed ,and double checked the lid while i waited for the rest of the gang to surface. A large part of me considered bolting onwards without them. It was late, and desolate enough, but not worth the karma.
Instead i conjured a smile, closed my eyes, and leaned into fate's hands. The disastrous duo came skipping from the small bodega as if they'd been doing shots of amnesia, like we hadn't avoided disaster only moments before. Instead they were all giggles, pulling stolen magazines, and phone charges from under their shirts, completely unphased. i fired up the engine, Sophie turned on Owl City, and we set off back into the night under the banner of that awful song.
Think the story is over? So did i... tune in next week!
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write