USA, Somewhere South Carolina

[Snifffff]

Jim had once again confirmed that the odors clinging to the tips of his ten fingers were within tolerance. I tried not to imagine what smells he was checking for. I had just shook his hand and now I did not want to know were that hand had been nor did I want to imagine why that place might concern his nose and require a third check.

I tried to focus on the content of Jim’s words instead of the man delivering those words. Eye contact or at least the appearance of eye contact was easy. The skin surrounding his eyeball congealed into a walnut before releasing again. Every thirty seconds or so the mysterious walnut would blink in and out of existence as the side of Jim’s face underwent another spasm. Did the walnut hurt? Did this constant deforming and reforming cause pain? After the first morning I didn’t think so. Perhaps it caused his hands stink. Then why smell them? Perhaps the walnut caused Jim’s hands to smell of flowers. I like flowers as much as the next guy…but why keep smelling them?

Jim started, “Heavenly father we ask you in the name of your son Jesus Christ to bless this salad we are about to [walnut] consume. And we thank you for safely bringing us Erik from Boulder Colorado. We thank you for granting him a safe journey and we ask you to bless his time here with us. Amen.”

“So-, you a hockey fan Erik?”

I reeled a bit from the transition. I had never heard the salad at a business lunch receive a blessing but then again I have not traveled to a great many places and I am always encountering new cultures, religions and beliefs. I replied, “Ya, hockey is fun to watch. I am not a huge fan of the Colorado [walnut] Avalanche but I know plenty of people back home who are.”

“Oh man we just love hockey round here.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that. When I was in Detroit everyone loved hockey but I think South Carolina is not what you would normally consider hockey country.”

“That’s what a lot of people think but you see man they’re lookin’ at it all wrong.”

“How so?” I asked with more naiveté and ignorance that I could every have imagined.

“Well think about.” At this point Jim, dropped his voice a notch into a conspiratorial tone. “What do football, basketball and even baseball have in common?” I almost answered that they are all played with a ball but I senesced that this was not the answer under consideration. “All those sports are run by the [walnut-walnut this was the first double I had seen] blacks. Think about it. Hockey aint like that.”

And I said nothing.

Perhaps sensing my unease Jim switched tracks again. “You should try the fat back”

“What?”

“Fat back. They take the fat from a pig and fry it up in strips. Some people say it’s a little salty but I like it.” [Snifffff still within acceptable levels]

Jim then bit into a finger sized strip deep fried fat and gave me an easy going smile. “If you need anything while you’re in town you just let me know. Hell, I imagine it aint easy living on the road go’n form place to place.” Then after brief pause. “You look like one of them long hair hippies [walnut] I heard about from Boulder. I bet you even drink that funky dark beer. What’s it called?”

“Guinness?”

“Ya, Guinness. I’ll take you out for a couple on me. Make ya feel at home. Now what’s this I hear’n ‘bout to leaving your job?”

“You hear right. You’re my last client.”

“How come? You got a cool job. You get to travel to all kinds great places!”

“They’ll be hiring.”

“Me! [walnut-walnut yet another double] I never been out’a South Carolina. Don’t recon there’s anywhere I’d wants ta go. Furthest I thinks I’ve ever want to go is the next county.”

I paused for a second to think. “Ya, I understand. When I woke up in the hotel this morning I was thinking the same thing.”

I believe that this will be my last story from the back woods of America. I am no longer traveling the country and installing software for a living. Instead my brother and I are going into real estate. Traveling from small town to small town proved a fascinating way to see the county and though it was seldom dull I also can think of no place to which I am eager to return. Perhaps I simply love places where the people do not speak English and the locations teeter on the edge of the map.

On a more practical note I am in the process of redeveloping my email list. If you are sick of my stories and ranting let me know and I will happily work to conserver a few ones and zeros on your behalf. Alternately if I have managed to occasionally entertain and amuse let me know that too and I will be certain that you are included on future dispatches from the exotic and mundane.