Years ago I slept just off the highway in eastern Arizona and the next day I started walking. This guy pulled over and immediately asked me if I wanted to work for him and the carnival in St. Johns, Arizona. I said, yeah.
We drove to St. Johns and I helped these guys put together this ride. I hadn't eaten in 24 hours, so one guy bought me a sandwich (I was broke). The other guy I worked with said that he used to be in Marine Force Recon. He told me about a couple of missions he was on somewhere in South America (vaguely); he kept saying, "I know who the trigger man was." He had this distant, faraway, painful look in his eyes. He said he got drunk every night.
I tried to tell him a little bit about my Christian faith, but he said he didn't want to hear no preaching. He was about six foot two, probably weighed over 200 lbs.; he looked like a real bad ass Marine. We worked well with each other. They kept telling me to stay on for the season, but I told them that I was just going to work for one day and hit the road in the morning.
That evening, some boss man paid me thirty-five dollars. I walked to a local gas station and got something to eat and then I slept in that carnival attraction that has all the funny looking mirrors in it. It rained that night. I was grateful to have food in my belly, that I was out of the rain and that I had some money in my pocket.
The next day I hitchhiked toward Holbrook.