Tonight Michelle had dinner with her parents and I stayed home.  She left at about 4:15 in the afternoon and figured she’d be home in a few hours.  I was bored and don’t have any friends in Houston, so I started brainstorming things to do.  There’s a little pub down the street that Michelle and I frequent, so I figured I would stop in there for a beer or twelve. 
 
        I enter the pub and see about ten people, which is a big crowd for that place.  Normally it’s just a skinny little bald dude that knows everything and hovers over you while you’re playing the jukebox and a bartender who may or may not be in the bar.  I ordered my beer and forced myself into a conversation the bartender was having with one of the patrons about living up north before realizing there were about twelve Mexicans in the corner of the bar setting up music equipment.  What the hell did I walk into?  Latin Alternative Night.  That’s what.

        I’ve never heard Latin Alternative music, but I’m willing to bet your left nut that I wouldn’t like it.  And if you want a drink in that place, you basically have to walk behind the bar and get it yourself.  So I grabbed my tip and went back home.  It was like 9:00 in the evening and I figured Michelle would be home soon anyway.

        Michelle let me know via text message that she wasn’t going to be home for a while, so I began contemplating how to kill some time.  I had been hanging out by myself for about six or seven hours and I was about to lose my mind.  I started doing some prep work for my next PRTV interview and researching future possible guests, but I couldn’t stay focused.  I wasn’t feeling the greatest and that probably had something to do with it. 
       
        We went out last night for some drinks, and I was feeling it all day today.  That blows my mind, because I only had two and a half beers.  My alcohol tolerance has diminished severely in the six months that I’ve been here.  I’m a shell of the boozehound that I once was.  I was also pretty hungry.  We ate at Arby’s early in the afternoon, but it didn’t hit the spot.  I attempted to make one of my favorite meals tonight (open faced roast beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes and gravy on top), but it didn’t work out very well.  For one I used instant potatoes and instant gravy.  The taters weren’t bad, but the gravy was garbage.  It was way too watery and made the bread soggy as hell.  I thought about taking it to the homeless man I saw sleeping outside the bank on the way back from the pub…but he probably would’ve thrown it in my face…or tried to smoke it.

        Around 10:30 I realized I had two choices.  I either had to go get some food, or pop a few sleeping pills and put a movie on.  After my quarter landed tails, I put my shoes on to head out to go get food.  Now I had to face the issue of where I was going to go.  Michelle had the car, so I had to go some place within walking distance.  It was late at night in a not so safe area of Houston, so I had about a three block radius to choose from.  After about two minutes of pondering what I was going to settle for, I decided to be lazy and go to Sonic which is right across the street.  I’ve been to Sonic twice before and wasn’t really satisfied, but I think their stupid ass commercials may have left my taste buds bias.

        I walked toward some tables by the building after placing my order, but on the way I ran into a very…unique woman who spit at my feet as I walked by.  She was the most obvious crack head I’ve ever seen in my life.  She looked like Chris Rock in New Jack City.  Blue lips, crazy eyes, and a twitch.  I sat out in the cold (as cold as Texas gets) waiting for someone to bring me my bacon cheeseburger and chili-cheese tater tots while this woman began coughing like a chain smoker with pneumonia.  It’s not really what you want to listen to before eating your Saturday dinner.

        The woman would not stop coughing.  I did my best to avoid watching, but I grew a little concerned.  Then someone inside brought the woman who was wearing a two piece jogging suit that didn’t match and flip flops and sandals a cup of something.  I don’t know if it was water, or soda, or maybe a slushy.  Or maybe it was a cup of Wild Turkey with a lime.  Who knows?  All I know is she didn’t pay for it and it didn’t help her cough.  And she was now dispensing her flem all over the cement.  Yum. 
For some reason my food took extra long to make and I was forced to sit outside with this crack head who was carrying around a purse with some dead flowers hanging out.  I can’t explain that one.  I made a point to turn my back and act like I was on my phone, but the noises became worse.  I finally turned to ask if she was okay, but I didn’t see her.  She was no longer pacing and twitching behind me.  She was now on her hands and knees vomiting in the bushes by the Sonic sign.  That’s got to be good for business.  I went over and asked if she was okay, and she just started mumbling something.  She shoed me off and I was happy to oblige. 

        A dude with a stupid haircut and pink shoelaces brought my food out and I was on my way.  But not before I do a quick product and quality check.  I opened up the bag to make sure I had everything I ordered.  I did.  So then I opened up my burger to make sure they didn’t stack it with onions and tomatoes.  It did have a tomato, but it was easy to pick off.  When I started closing my bag up, I felt a presence behind me.  You know how you sometimes get the feeling somebody is staring at you?  I got that feeling.  And I also smelled puke.  The crack head was standing behind me looking over my shoulder.  I turned and looked at her, but I was speechless.  I didn’t know what to say…so I just gave her a facial expression as to say may I help you?  After a few twitches she spit out five words that I’ll probably never forget.  In a very demanding and aggressive voice she muttered, "let me get a pickle!"

        I was again speechless.  I gave her the whole bag and told her to enjoy.  My mind was so occupied by what had just taken place that I almost got hit by a car walking home.  I found it kind of funny at first.  The way she was dressed, the way she talked, and even the whole idea of a crack head throwing up outside Sonic.  But then I just got sad. 

        All day today I’ve been thinking about that woman.  That’s saying a lot since today was Super Bowl Sunday.  I’m so sad for that woman.  She probably has a family, or even worse…maybe she doesn’t.  Maybe she had a family that disowned her because of her addiction and problems.  I started feeling thankful, because that could’ve been me had I followed certain paths.  I started seeing my problems and issues as extremely trivial compared to what a lot of other people are going through.  Finally I became concerned, because I do know a lot of people that will eventually find themselves in the same situation. 

        Living in Houston has really opened my eyes.  I have seen a lot of bad things, but not in this capacity.  I’ve seen homeless people and hitchhikers, but I’m actually familiar with the ones in Houston because I see them on a daily basis.  The same panhandler comes up to the car every day pressing his sign up against my window.  The same heroin addict runs up to me asking for money in the parking lot every time I go grocery shopping.  I’ve actually gotten used to it.  I used to not be able to sleep because I’d be awakened by sirens or car alarms going off every hour, but now I’ve become accustomed to it.  And people think I’m crazy because I’m moving back to the boring old Wisconsin town that I grew up in.