Part 3: Raton
I took over five hours to make it to Raton where I stopped for the night. I wanted to push on, but my brain ached from the evening before. What did I smoke? Peyote? Heroin? I had no fricken clue. My head was throbbing. I couldn’t drive another inch. Not one inch. When I saw the sign for the Wispy Willow RV Park, I gravitated to it like a damaged soul to a bonfire.
Thirty-six bucks for a night to include the use of the bathhouse and coin-operated laundry. That’s what I am talking about. I had plenty of cash on me, but I wanted to conserve every cent since I was unemployed. After connecting the hookups and mixing up a dish of macaroni and cheese, I kicked back on the bed, ate dinner, and listened to the radio. I quit searching for a station when I heard a booming voice proclaim, “You are listening to the Voice of God.”
This proclamation made me a little nervous after what happened last night, but my camper didn’t transform into a two thousand pound tadpole, so I stayed with the program. The tenor of the older man’s vocalization rose and fell in a cadenced pattern as much hypnotic as it was addictive. He had the kind of voice that made you want to empty your pockets into the collection plate.
Have you heard the word of god today, stranger? With judgment day upon us, now is the time to choose your side. Will you fight on the side of the angels? Or will you stand with the devil? Brother, the Chinese have launched weapons of war into an orbit that will smite you down, and the Russians are prepping missiles to carry you to the afterlife…
I could sense a panic attack building, so I pulled out my cell, searched for Word of God Radio, found their site, and donated fifty bucks to the ministry to purchase bomb shelter rations for needy children. I grabbed my shaving kit and a bottle of rum and made for the bathhouse. It was clean, at least. There was a line of four shower stalls with small connected dressing rooms where you could hang your towels and stow your clothes. When you were in the shower behind the drawn curtain, you were in your own private space. Not so when you were in the changing area as the divider walls were short enough that you could see the heads of other gents dressing or getting ready to take a shower.
I set the bottle of rum on a tiny shelf in the changing area and got undressed. The man next to me, a middle-eastern man with olive skin, dark brown hair, beard, and a mustache, noted the liquor and said something. I think my brain was still in Alpha Centauri because I could hear the words, but my mind pulled no meaning from them. It was foggy in the bathroom from all the steam, and a light above the man cast a golden hue around his head.
“Are you OK?” he asked, pulling on his shaggy beard, still eyeing the bottle of rum in my stall.
I focused on the here and now and picked up the bottle and took a big swig. “Are you him?” I asked, setting the bottle gingerly back down on the shelf. “What are you doing in Raton, New Mexico?”
He asked who? I said, God? Are you God? I repeated. He laughed and took the bottle from the shelf in my dressing area and held it up to the light. With a suspicious look, he stared in my direction until I nodded OK, and he took a swig and placed it back on the shelf.
“No, I am not God, but I am the voice of God on the radio.”
I looked at him solemnly, grabbed the booze by the neck of the bottle, nodded to the almighty, and slunk back into the shower stall with my precious. Time obscured in an alcoholic haze. The hot water and steam from the shower obscured my vision. Leaning against the clammy tiles in the shower I held my thumb over the top of the decanter and let the warm, cleansing water wash over me. I drank until the bottle emptied, and the label became unglued and sank to the floor. When I shut the water off and came out of the shower, God was gone.
I also never laid eyes on my truck again because when I returned to my spot after my shower, all I found was an empty pad. The thieves dumped most of my stuff from the camper on the ground. Guess it wasn’t the best idea to park the truck in a secluded spot. Guess the thieves just wanted the truck because my belongings from the camper were there except for my street clothes and shoes which I stored under the bed. Crap. I saw my treasure chest, sleeping bag, tent, and a stuffed alligator plushy Tammy gave me as a parting gift. I guess it could have been worse as I had my wallet, cell phone, and all my cash in my shaving kit with me at the bathhouse. The biggest bummer–I only had on a pair of shorts, flip-flops, a t-shirt with the words: “If Lost, Return to Tammy,” and my wet soggy bath towel. I fell to my knees and lowered my head. I crawled over to the chest and opened it. Good news. The contents were untouched. I quickly changed into my pirate clothes and opened another bottle of rum.
>> Go to part 4…