Grateful that I had a drunk tank story to swap with an old man I met yesterday who had just been let go & had pushed his walker to a bench along my path. He was disoriented, hungover and lonely; I had become unglued after reading a forum post & was on a mission to blow off steam. We sat there for more than an hour as this little town came awake, enjoying the warmth of the sun, talking about toils and troubles and lost days, wasted nights and shades of the past.
I have only one drunk tank story, not one of my finest moments to be sure, but it is quite humourous and even infamous amongst the local constabulary, and I gave that fellow much to smile at. Sunday driving church-goers slowed to stare at us, and we raised a hand in greeting and nodded at most of them - you could see in the looks they threw at us what they were thinking, "what's that skinny white woman doing with that drunk old Indian?" but you know what, f*ck 'em all, sitting there on that bench, I felt more human and normal than I have in a long time.
Clarence and I have met before, many times, he just doesn't remember me, but I always remember him.