Monkey Shines

Last Monday morning was grey and dreary. Jane and I were doing our usual 7AM carpool to work. There, lying against the concrete barrier on the inside lane of the highway, I saw an inflatable doll, fully inflated, wearing a lacy bra and panties. She looked as surprised to be there as I was surprised to see her. It made me start thinking of all the things I have seen on the side of the road.

When I first moved to Texas, I lived with my parents in Fort Worth. To get home, I liked to take a couple of shortcuts which led me through pastures that were full of wildflowers and big, fat, happy cows. Mind you, I was still new to Texas after moving from suburban Boston. The sight of a cow by the side of the road still caught me by surprise. Frankly, after 25 years, it still does.

I worked for Oshman’s Sporting Goods at the time at a store in Arlington. It was a good hour ride away from home. When I worked the evening shift, I drove home pretty late, sometimes close to midnight. My headlights sometimes caught the glowing eyes of animals prowling the pastures in the night.

One night, after working particularly late, I bumped quickly down my shortcut, anxious to get home. There, on the side of the road, was a huge mass of pink flesh. I went by so fast, it didn’t register until I was past it that someone must have run into a cow and that I had seen a huge pile of dead beef on the hoof. I was sick to my stomach. The more I thought about it, the more nauseated I was. The next morning, I opted for the longer route to work, knowing I couldn’t look at it again. That evening, more from habit than choice, I took my short cut again. As I neared the spot, I cringed, worried I would see the same sight in the broad daylight. Then, there it was! A huge roll of fiberglass insulation. Complete with the Pink Panther logo. No cow. Just an overactive imagination.

Cut to Houston, 2005ish. Jane and I were in the car, headed back to work after lunch. At a bus stop on the corner sat a homeless woman dressed in rags. She was scary looking, with crazy hair and bizarre features. As we sat there, waiting for the light to change, she began to sing. Out of this strange looking creature’s mouth came the most beautiful strains of “I Shall Be Released”.

A few days later, at the same intersection, we again waited for the light. Next to the same bus stop, a man lay on his back, arms and legs splayed. We watched for a moment or two, but saw no movement – no breath.

Jane looked at me. “Do you think he is dead?”

“Should we check?”

I drove around the corner and pulled into the back entrance of a donut shop. I pulled as close to him as I could. No motion. No movement of his chest. I looked at Jane. She looked at me.

“I am not getting out of the car,” I said. She didn’t look anxious to get out either.

“Should we call 911?”, she asked. She grabbed her cell phone and handed it to me. I dialed. The dispatcher answered immediately.

“What is your emergency?”

“We are on the corner of West 34th Street and Mangum and there is a man lying next to the bus stop. We think he is dead.”

“Does he have a pulse?”

“ummm… We don’t want to get out of the car.” I could feel her roll her eyes in disgust.

“We will send someone to check it out.”

I put the car in reverse, headed out of the parking lot on the way back to work.

Jane looked at me. “Don’t you want to know what happens?”

It took her a good five minutes to convince me to turn around and head back to the bus stop. We were about a half mile away and her cell phone rang. I answered it.

“Did you call to report a dead body?”

“Yes.”

“The officers are there and they can’t find anyone.”

Just then, we pulled up to the intersection and saw the policeman talking to our “dead body”, who was standing next to him trying to explain why he had been lying flat on his back by the side of the road next to the bus stop.

“Uhh…. the policeman is talking to him right now.”

Jane and I decided at that moment that we need a pokey stick to keep us from making the same mistake again. It could be attached to the side of the car and be extended to poke anything or anyone we come across that we think might be dead and don’t want to touch.

On our commutes to work, Jane sometimes sees things that I miss. Mostly, they are naked people. Once, she saw a naked man kneeling by the freeway, his arms raised up as in prayer. I missed it. Once, when driving home alone, she saw a man wearing a green hospital gown, untied in the front, running alongside the expressway, his private parts bouncing in the breeze. She called 911 to report it. They refused to believe she could not provide them with a cross street and wouldn’t send anyone to check it out. I guess they still had her phone number on file from the last dead body report and wrote her off as a kook.

Now we both have cell phones with cameras in them. On the way to work the other day, we drove down a side street and saw a flock of chickens. We stopped and took pictures. From now on, in an effort to reduce the kook factor, we are determined to document the weird sights we see. Be prepared to see photos.

Donna