It's the latter that prompted me to roll down my window one day and ask a dirty looking vagabond holding his sign where he was coming from and where he intended to go. The question obviously caught him off guard and he gave me a blank stare while slowly moving toward my unrolled window. Realizing he had no idea what I was talking about I refreshed his memory by pointing to the chunk of inside out Bud Light box he had transformed into a plea of assistance. He looked down at the scratchy handwriting and then turned the sign around so that he could see it head on. Upon looking at it he reacted immediately, as though someone had just prompted him to remember his line.
"Yeah, I gotta get outta here. I'm stuck. I'm a stranded man."
Aren't we all, I thought.
"All I need is a bus ticket. Yeah, a bus ticket to get outta here. I just need a few more bucks."
After I questioned him a bit more for my own selfish and demented reasons it was obvious that this man had no intentions of going anywhere. At one point he professed he just wanted to get across town. To another corner. Another freeway exit. Another sidewalk just outside a shopping center. I almost expected him to ask me for a ride, but he didn't.
I looked ahead at the traffic light. It was turning out to be the longest light I'd ever stopped at.
Now I could smell my new friend and I turned my attention back out the window where he met my glance with a blank expression. He blinked long and hard and shuffled his feet.
Oh, God I thought to myself. Why do I always have to question people? Why, if I think they are obvious liars, do I have to be the person who calls them out? I'm no better for doing it and a guy like this probably doesn't even care that I've questioned his intentions. I popped open my ash tray where I usually have a few spare dollars and some loose change, feeling obligated to give him something just because I had to validate my suspicion and perhaps make a point.
I glanced forward again. 10 cars ahead of me the traffic light turned green. I pulled a few notes out and turned back to the window, about to instill one more bit of wisdom on this lowly 'traveler'. As I turned my head and opened my mouth to speak I noticed a vacancy. Confused, I turned over my left shoulder and saw his skinny frame hurrying away. I looked in the side mirror for a better view and saw an arm extended from the car behind me. In between the fingers at the end of the arm was a green bill with Abe Lincoln's face on it.
Taking my foot off the brake I started to roll away, laughing to myself. Giving one more glance in the mirror I noticed the traveler was holding nothing in his hands now but his new found wealth. Just outside my window where he had been standing a moment before, pleading his case and his dire need to get away, I noticed the sign laying in the dirt and weeds, tossed aside as though it had served its purpose.
An honest acceptance. No explanation required.
