Our trip took a turn for the worst, or at least most interesting,
just as we made a right onto the 87 from La Mesa. It was the first time I felt the impulse to grab onto Larsen really tight, for really no reason at all, since
we left Roswell. As soon as I had a good grip on him, he sped off, going from 30-100 in a matter of seconds. He zipped through the cars and carved like a mad
man, and all I could think of was how good it felt to go that fast. For a split
second I heard myself think – maybe I shouldn’t let him go this fast, everyone
said to keep an eye on him, and keep him from doing anything reckless. But that
thought vanished as quickly as it came, and all I could think of was the
vibrations of the bike, and holding on as tight as I could to this speed demon
on Baphomet. Then, all of a sudden, I feel him slow down, and to my left, spot
a squad car flipping around from the other side of the freeway. Larsen comes to
an immediate stop, after the squad car basically cuts us off and then has to turn back around pull up behind us. I notice that another squad car drives past, and then turns around and parks facing us. The officer in front of
us comes out with a pistol and tells us to put our hands up. I’m told to “get
off the bike, walk slowly away from the bike, and put my hands above my head".
At first I couldn't hear what they were saying because my helmet was on and my
ear buds were in, so I pulled off my helmet and put it on the ground and then turned around as per
their request, and walked backwards towards the officer behind us. I clumsily
walk into the officer, so he sets me straight and instructs me to clasp
my hands together behind my head. He asks if I have any weapons on me, I
say “no”, and then they tell me to take off all of my gear and put it on the
hood of the squad car. Of course they found nothing of interest, except the
black and white feather that Spencer gave me before we left, that I had in the
left breast pocket of my leather jacket, which the officer remarked as “pretty”. I look over and Larsen is getting
padded down, not a protesting bone in his body. I see him getting handcuffed.
I
ask the officer dealing with me if my friend is getting arrested, and he said
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask the sheriff”, then I ask him “Can he get
arrested for speeding”, the officer says “No, but he can for evading arrest”. I
think to myself, but that doesn’t make any sense, unless of course we had
Crystal Castles bumping too loudly and couldn’t hear the cop car behind us at the first county line where they say they detected us going 80 mph, then at the second where they clocked us
at 122 mph, or perhaps it was because squad cars can't touch 120, especially if they're stopped on the side of the highway, so there would have been no way for Larsen to know that we were being followed. The sheriff walks over and thanks officer Juarez for detecting this
SOB on the radar. I smell bullshit, but that doesn’t give me much, so I just
pry for more information. I find out that we showed up on Officer Juarez’s
radar at the county line, and he put on his sirens after us, then we sped off
at 120, and then the other dude was called to try and meet us further ahead, or
so they say. I also find out that they are taking him to Big Lake, which is the
closest town with a jail, about an hour and a half away, and that they can’t give
me a ride any further than a gas station half a mile in the opposite direction,
and that they are taking the bike. Fuck Texas. As soon as I realize that I’m
probably going to get stranded for a little bit, I ask them if I can take some
things out of the bike before they take it away. They let me, but first they go
through everything on the bike. I open up my paneer and grab my laptop + charger,
cell phone charger, my dress, and my diva cup. The officer assisting me with
this task asks to look at the diva cup, wants to know if there is dope in it.
Part of me was amused that a Texas Highway Patrolman was holding my diva cup in
the cute little polka dot drawstring bag I made for it before we left, checking
inside it for dope. I close up the paneer and ask to grab my backpack, to stash
all the things I was about to take with me into stranded-dom. I open it up to
let them see what’s all inside. Regular backpack stuff, except for my keychain,
which had a small brass canister attached to it. The perfect size for my stash
of DOPE, is what the officer’s face stated when he discovered it.
He asks me
what I keep inside of it, I say “sugar, but I used it all on my last cup of
coffee”, which is the truth. He goes, “You better hope it turns out to be sugar
when I take it to the lab”, and I go, “I promise. I’m addicted to caffeine. “
He points out that it’s not very much sugar, and I say “It’s as much as I need”,
and add that “I use artificial sweeteners, they are stronger” which IS a lie,
because there was only real sugar in that canister, and I put it there to be
funny, and really did use it on my last cup of coffee, and it really was just
enough. I ask if I’m going to get the small Tupperware container back in which the
sugar was held, but the officer just scoffed at me. Then he took off the gold
canister where the Tupperware was housed, which was attached to my faux lucky
rabbits foot on the same hoop. I asked if he was going to take the rabbit’s
foot too, and he said “No”, and then removed it from the hoop. Finally, I
checked the locked compartment on the dash, to see if Larsen had left his phone
in there, but found mine instead. I had stashed it in there earlier because it
was dead, and totally forgot about it. Then I was told to walk back over to the
other vehicle and wait. Larsen was put in the squad car opposite me, too far
away for us to communicate. Eventually they all left, and officer Juarez was "nice
enough" to take me to the local gas station half a mile away to sort out my
situation. He suggests I hitchhike to Big Lake which is about 90 miles away, and I say “I wish I had some
mace, I don’t feel safe being a girl hitchhiking somewhere in the middle of
nowhere”. I was hoping to make officer Juarez feel as guilty and awkward as
possible within those few minutes to the gas station, and I think it worked. I
thanked him graciously, and he told the clerk at the gas station that I would
be hanging out for a little bit until I found a way to Big Lake.
The clerk was a nice young lady, who let me charge my phone. I asked a lot of questions, and got a few answers. I asked her about the wireless, so I could go on facebook and seek help, she said the boss was the only one who knew it, and he was gone for the day. I asked her how far Big Lake was, she didn’t know, and had never heard of it. I asked her if hitchhiking was illegal, she said no, in fact the officers around these parts have been known to help hitchhikers, a few have been dropped off at her gas station. She asked me what happened, and I told her. She then proceeded to tell me what seemed like the longest vaguely related story ever, about how her boyfriend and his sister got arrested with her in the car, and how she cried like a baby. She offered me a ride to the closest city when she got off at 6, but I couldn’t wait that long. I let my phone get a little bit of juice, then I turned it on and listened to my messages, sure enough, the second was from Larsen. It went “Call AAA, have them tow the bike to where they are taking me, my card is in my wallet, as them for it”. My heart sank, too bad my phone was dead when that message would have mattered, too bad I didn’t think to do that myself, too bad, too bad. After panicking for a minute and realizing that I had fucked up, I called around and found out where the bike was (Robert Lee, 30 miles from the gas station in Watervalley), and how much it would cost to get it out (265), and that Larsen had to get it out. I started asking everyone in the station if they were headed to Big Lake, everyone was going the opposite way.
The clerk was a nice young lady, who let me charge my phone. I asked a lot of questions, and got a few answers. I asked her about the wireless, so I could go on facebook and seek help, she said the boss was the only one who knew it, and he was gone for the day. I asked her how far Big Lake was, she didn’t know, and had never heard of it. I asked her if hitchhiking was illegal, she said no, in fact the officers around these parts have been known to help hitchhikers, a few have been dropped off at her gas station. She asked me what happened, and I told her. She then proceeded to tell me what seemed like the longest vaguely related story ever, about how her boyfriend and his sister got arrested with her in the car, and how she cried like a baby. She offered me a ride to the closest city when she got off at 6, but I couldn’t wait that long. I let my phone get a little bit of juice, then I turned it on and listened to my messages, sure enough, the second was from Larsen. It went “Call AAA, have them tow the bike to where they are taking me, my card is in my wallet, as them for it”. My heart sank, too bad my phone was dead when that message would have mattered, too bad I didn’t think to do that myself, too bad, too bad. After panicking for a minute and realizing that I had fucked up, I called around and found out where the bike was (Robert Lee, 30 miles from the gas station in Watervalley), and how much it would cost to get it out (265), and that Larsen had to get it out. I started asking everyone in the station if they were headed to Big Lake, everyone was going the opposite way.
Finally, I decided to go out onto the road, so I made a cute little sign and
said thankyougoodbye to the nice lady clerk. It took me about 15 minutes to get
a ride. The man who picked me up was a sharp looking black man, driving a shiny
6 wheeled truck. He said I looked out of place and stranded, so he had to turn
around to get me. Before we even exchanged names, he handed me a blunt and
asked if I wanted a hit. I said YES PLEASE.
This dude was really legit. Here is why:
1. He runs a company that operates cranes that install and move oil rigs, which he started from scratch.
2. He was recently dumped by his girlfriend because he works
too much, and wants to become a millionaire in the next 5 years rather than
appease his baby mama.
3. He believes in fate and the random cosmic energy that
makes good things happen and brings good people together.
4. We stop at an oil rig along the way that has already been
fallen, and he offers his crane services to a group of very confused looking
white dudes.
5. He used to be a drug dealer, but now is a businessman
that makes over $100,000 a week and lives in a $1100 a month 3 bedroom house in
Houston.
6. He looks like he lives in Baldwin Hills and has the AC on
full blast.
He told me all about the oil rigging business, and how
there is a big boom in this area of Texas right now because of the recent
discovery of oil within shell rock, so he is here to join in. His company is
called DGAF Rigs. The whole way there, he points out oil rigs, and
cranes, and crane dollies. It’s fascinating. He was on his way to Midland to
meet with a potential business partner, about some “sheisty” under the table
dealings having to do with monopolizing the rigs and crane aspect of the oil
industry. He said it was my lucky day, because no matter what he would not
leave me stranded. We ended up driving about an hour out of his way to get me
to Big Lake, but he said it was alright, and this is what’s called the
butterfly effect, because if he hadn’t picked me up, he wouldn’t have stopped to
talk to those people along the way, and he wouldn’t have had a chance to meet a
nice pretty girl like myself. I offer to do any graphic or logo design pro
bono, I practically owed this man my life. I notice that his card says his name
is “Jeffrey Hadnot”. I giggle and
think about the position I’d be in if he “Hadnot” picked me up. We reach Big
Lake finally, and it’s tiny. The jail is about 1000 ft. from the border of
town.
We locate the jailhouse/courthouse/townhall, then he drives
around the block to see if there are any bail bonds places. We don’t see
anything, so he drops me off in front of the jailhouse and wishes me good luck.
I walk in and the place is quiet and empty. After hunting around for some sort
of personnel, I find a button next to a door that says “push for assistance”, I
feel like I am in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate factory, and oompa loompa’s are
about to come out of a door and take me away. Finally, a lady chimes “How may I
help you”, “I’m looking for a Larsen Farrell”, “Just a moment, someone will
come outside to assist you”. A few minutes later, a short, stubby oompa loompa
looking lady comes out and tells me a few things, and makes me wait a bit
longer. I give Katbear a call again, to kill some time and get some comforting
advice. She’s at deep creek with Rex, that makes me happy. She laughs at the
details of our ordeal, and arps the anxiety away. A while passes, and I get a
call from Larsen. It seems informal in there, he’s talking to the jailer and is
allowed to call me back after calling the bail bonds man. I’m starting to feel
feverish (literally), and now awaiting a call back from either Larsen’s mom, or
the bail bonds man, to hopefully get him out tonight. Finally, I get a call back
from Dania, Larsen’s mom. She’s very calm about everything, and tells me to consider
this a sign from the universe that Larsen needs to take it slower, no need to
rush when you’re not trying to meet a deadline. She also says that he gets
instant Karma, in the same way that he is able to manifest things. Lucky for us, a bail bond and impound fee will be the only damage. Unfortunately, the bail bonds man calls me back soon after and tells me that we can't get him out tonight, it will have to happen first thing tomorrow morning.
Sleeping in a jailhouse lobby isn’t as bad as you’d think.
The temperature is controlled at a cozy room level. I found a nice bench that
was the perfect size for me to sleep on, against a hallway that was less
traveled and away from the main entrance. Nobody bothered me at all while I
slept through the night and into the early morning. I was expecting at least a
few questions, but I didn’t get as much as a tap on the shoulder. I figure they get people like me spending the night in the lobby, waiting for their loved ones all the time. There was a
bathroom, a couple water fountains, an outlet, and even a vending machine. I
felt quite comfortable during my stay at the jailhouse lobby inn. It was also
mostly me in the room, people passed through only once in a while, but nobody
seemed to stay in the room for more than a couple seconds. The next morning I awoke to the footsteps of Rangers walking by me. At
about 9 am, I get a call from the bail bonds man, and he says he’ll be over there
in about half an hour, it takes him an hour and a half, but finally he shows
up. After the paperwork is done, I see Larsen being escorted out, thankfully
with a smile on his face. But of course, he got fed (twice, and apparently this jail is known for it's good food...wtf??), had a warm bed to
sleep in, books, a TV, and a warm shower. Lucky SOB!
The bail bonds man gives us a ride to San Angelo, which is
still about 60 miles from Sterling City, where Larsen still needs to go to pay
some fines to release his bike, which is then another 30 miles away. We get
another ride from the bail bonds office to the mouth of the highway, where we
make a nice sign and are given a free fountain drink from the gas station, and
a tip to move up the street to avoid getting harassed by cops. A cop pulled
over to talk to us once, he got a call from some concerned citizens thinking we
were some kids trying to run from something. He wished us luck and let us get
back to hitching. Eventually we got picked up by a lovely man in a truck (I
guess everybody drives trucks in Texas), who said he was going to Sterling City
to pick up a roll of plastic for gasoline. It was pretty serendipitous that he
was going to Sterling, because when he saw us, we were hitching without the
signs to see if it would work better. Apparently it did!
We get in the car, and immediately he offers us an entire
meal, an untouched hamburger and French fries. What a fucking guy, I was so
grateful, all I had eaten in the last 24 hours was an orange that I got from
Food Not Bombs in Durango. He also offered to take us to Robert Lee after
Sterling City, which is where the motorcycle got impounded. At the courthouse
in Sterling City, Larsen pays his debts and gets back his pocketknife. I also
get my gold canister back; the results came back clean, go figure. Then we
walked down to the Stripes gas station, and sure enough, our friend Adrian was
lowering a huge roll of plastic onto his truck. We got back in the truck and
drove to Robert Lee, another 30 miles away. At some point in the last 24 hours,
the bike, Larsen, and I were all in different counties of west Texas. Finally,
all three troops would be in the same place at once. Right before we got out of
the truck, Adrian handed me a 100 Dollar bill. Thanks to the kindness of
strangers, we made it out of west Texas alive, and finally got on our merry way to our family in
Austin.
Bail bonds man: 325 655 7307
*Some details have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.
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