Against the Wind Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Amtrak was the best connection leaving the Gulf so I purchased a ticket up the line to Houston, could I be the first hobo in history to actually pay to ride a train?
I looked like a tourist, with my freshly tanned face, and my sun bleached hair. No one would suspect that I was not just one more person in the crowd. It is hard to explain but in that lifestyle, one tends to feel more like an animal than a human, with your senses sharpened and the level of trust of people, well many moons would pass before I would feel comfortable mingling with people.
Springtime was in the air, winter had loosened it's icy grip on the land, and now it's time for the spring rains to come. That could prove perilous to a hobo jungle or camp. More often than not the camps were set up in a river bottom or near a creek, and with the sudden and unexpected appearance of a spring thunderstorm, flash flooding could occur. There has been instances where people have been washed away and drowned with virtually no warning.
There were a lot of camps around Houston, not only the hobo's but people from Latin America seeking a new life in America congregated there to plot there journey deeper into the heartland where they would hope to find work, shelter and be able to disappear into the fabric of our society.
The names of the railroad companies have changed over the years, as the sixties brought the new business trend of
“mergers”, perhaps it was economically feasible for them to join forces to survive in the ever changing financial climate. Famous old names either disappeared or became intertwined with others as the companies mixed and mingled their affairs.
I was not particular in my choosing a name on a boxcar, any empty one with doors wide open and preferably parked or moving slow would do just fine. An added benefit would be if the car was reasonably clean, free from oil and grease and if there were some remnants of packing materials like cardboard and straw. It is much more comfortable to have a nice cushion to ride on. Also in cooler weather and at night they provided warmth for the body and soul.
There are no shortages of rail yards in Memphis, Tennesee. Depending on the engines pulling the train, that will determine the yard it is destined for. One thing for certain, if you are entering the Memphis yards you will undoubtedly be switched to another track, it is a mix master of re-arranging trains for their final destinations.
If you are familiar with the freight patterns or if you inquire of the locals, you can very well choose where you want to go and when to depart. There are no guarantees of any kind, as any time you hop a freight it is a roll of the dice where you will end up.
I had intended to move up north as the weather was improving there, and I selected a car I felt sure would be going that direction, but after a lot of forward and backward moving, and a lot of clanging of the steel couplings the periods of stillness and the sudden jolting of the restarting of the train eventually I found myself rolling southbound again.
The next opportunity to jump off was in the river town of Vicksburg, Mississippi. A small town on the banks of the mighty Mississippi river, the “Big Muddy” as some folks would say. Just south of the city the remains of a Civil war battleground were visible, the actual gun placements and the foxholes were still distinguishable although overgrown with grass, and the blood shed there had seeped deep into that southern soil. I felt an eerie feeling there, yet one of respect for the sacrifices that had been made on that now sacred ground.
Venturing into town, I picked up word that the riverboats were hiring. Not that I had any experience with that sort of thing, but perhaps a once in a lifetime opportunity should not be overlooked.
The night before I was to sign on for duty on the boat, I was knocking back a few in a local tavern. As I listened to the locals describe the finer points of river boating, the reality began to permete my thick skull and I realized this may not be a wise choice after all.
There was mention of initiations of the greenhorns such as being beaten the first day aboard, to signify how rough and tough it is be a deckhand.
Early the next morning, I watched from the riverbank as the vessel slowly began it's trek downstream, pondering the idea of what it would have been like and what mysteries the river would have revealed, as it rounded each bend meandering it's way to New Orleans.

Chapter 7
I will never know what fate held in store for me had I chosen to follow that whim, I have to believe there was some divine purpose and let it go at that.
I heard that the annual Cotton Festival was starting in Memphis. I rolled the dice again, so I caught a slow moving freight, this time it was actually going northbound.
The next stop was the railyard at Marion, Arkansas about ten miles west of Memphis. I hitched a ride by car on into the “River City” as it was affectionately known.
The carnival was setting up and they always hire locals to put the rides together. I got hired to setup the “Cyclone” a roller coaster, loaded on eight big trucks. It took the crew 36 hours straight to complete the job.
The boss man asked me if I would stay the length of the show and be a ticket taker. I accepted the offer and worked the ride for the next two weeks. This was a carnival and as I mentioned earlier, my grandfather was a circus man so there was a this odd feeling that perhaps I belonged here. At least for awhile.
“Carnies”, or carnival workers are a breed apart, with their nomadic lifestyle, and the way they operate as a “family”. If someone messes with one of them they would have to deal with the entire group. There are many secrets within that under-worldly society, but don't ask don't tell has always been the carny way. Not judging one another but taking each person at face value, according to their present actions. Runaways, fugitives of the law, god only knows the individual backgrounds of these people but as long as they do their job, and don't cause trouble they will quickly earn the respect of the group.
Carnies are basically divided into two distinct sections, “ridees” the name coined for the people that operate the ride concessions, and the “jointees” that manage the game concessions, or “joints”.
Carny speak is a secret language designed for the workers to communicate with each other even in the presence of a “mark”, or customer. If one tries to present themselves
as a carny, they would be found out very quickly, unless they had knowledge of the “lingo”. “I am with it” would be the proper introduction and that is simply to say “I am with the show”. Even the denomination of paper money each has a code name, for example; one dollar is a single, or a skin,a five dollar is a “fin”, ten dollars a “sawbuck” and a twenty would be a “double” and so it goes on including the larger bills, a fifty, a half-yard and a hundred, a “yard” or a “c-note”.
After the rides are setup there is some free time to roam the grounds until your shift of taking tickets comes up. I was walking along where the game concessions were shopping for my evening meal. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a picture of a beautiful girl selling hotdogs. I paused and turned to confirm my discovery,and at that moment our eyes met. Time stood still for a moment as I tried to regain my composure. I approached the stand as matter of factly as I could, trying not show the emotions that were jumping inside of me. Our eyes continued to meet and in that instant, I was struck speechless.
“May I help you sir?” “Um well, um yes of course, may I have a hotdog please?” As she extended her arm to deliver my purchase, even her hands and arm had a soft, warm appearance as did her face and hair, that glowed like the angelic creature she is. I managed to dress my hotdog with mustard and relish, and slowly moved back into the crowd.
Looking back over my shoulder, once again our eyes made contact, and I felt like I was walking on air. What had just happened? Had I fallen in love? For the rest of the night, all I could picture was this angellic like girl with blonde hair and light blue eyes. I slept like a baby that night.
The next morning to reaffirm that what had happened had actually happened and that it was not just something I dreamed, I returned to the scene of the crime, only to find another person working the joint. I suppose it would be evening when the beauty would report for her shift of duty.
To be continued