Krazy in Kalifornia

I knew it was bound to happen at some point but for it to take as long as it did is a bit surprising. What am I referring to? (To what am I referring?) I’m talkin’ about me running into the nut factor, as I have in the past three days in California.
It started in Jamestown, a small village, not without its charm, in the foothills of the Sierra mountains. The place resembles an early twentieth century town, a row of shops and hotels lining the main drag, and a lovely little park in the middle of one side, with a large gazebo, some benches and tables, and enough privacy to make it a good enough place to sleep for the night. I was almost set up to do this. Enter Sherry.
At least, I think that was her name. She walked past several times, in shorts and a tank top, twitching and talking to herself. She carried a few shopping bags and other packages. She stopped in front of where I was sitting and asked me for five dollars for cigarettes. I told her I was broke and she got a bit confrontational. I ignored her and began to wonder if there was another place to go to. Now enter Brina, an older woman who knew Sherry. She distracted her for a few minutes and then after Sherry left told me not to let her sleep near where I was because she would try to steal from me. Great. I decided to spend money I didn’t want to spend and got a room, overpriced, at a motel down the street. Second floor, which meant that I had to lug my cart up the stairs, which I did. Room 20.
Wifi didn’t work. Phone calls were a hassle due to some bimbo at the front desk. Lousy night already.
Three AM—knocking on the door. I staggered out of bed and opened it. It was Sherry. She must have seen which room I went into. She basically barged in and demanded to use my bathroom. She was very loud, and I didn’t want to have a fight with a crazy woman, but I had to refuse. She left without a word. I went back to what sleep I could muster.
Part two, two nights later. San Andreas, California. Another small town, less charming than Jamestown, and basically a stopping point on the way to other places.
I was at the gas station talking on the phone booth phone via phone card, since my cell service stopped working due to cell tower issues. A man and woman walked by as I was talking and the woman asked me if I was okay. I nodded that I was and they left. I finished my call and headed for the library, a mile and a half away, where I left my cart after ascertaining it was a good place to sleep for the night, which was a Friday. I got on the library’s wifi and spent some time there, and then headed back to town for some drinks and snacks. As I left the store with my purchases, who should be walking along my path but the man and woman. Her name was Ann and the man was her brother Carl. Picture Farrah Fawcett’s body with Mickey Rourke’s head and you have Ann. Picture Danny Devito with a few extra inches in height and you have Carl. She was poured into her clothes and you could tell she had been a looker in her time. This was not her time, though, and her teeth were gone except for a few bottom remainders. The oddest thing though was the bandaids. Her cheeks were covered with big brown ones, and I asked her what had happened. She said that someone had thrown acid on her face. It got silent. Carl didn’t say a word, just walked along with a little innocent grin on his face.
They asked me if I was sleeping at the government center. I had no idea what that was, so they told me how it was just a place that they slept outside, behind the main building. I followed them to where it was and it turned out to be just a building that housed administrative offices of some sort. Ann said that at night workers went up on the roof and threw chemicals down on the people sleeping below. Oh, boy, I thought. Time to get a move on. I headed away to the library, which was almost literally next door. I spent a worried night wondering if I was going to be hassled by weird homeless people with band-aids on their faces. I wasn’t.
But, the next morning, as I left the library and headed back to the main road to continue my trek, who should I encounter but Ann and Carl. They asked me if I saw a strange woman with long hair walking to the library. I allowed as how I had not. They told me she had come intotown on the bus from Sonora and was very odd and they wouldn’t let her sleep with them.
I bade them good bye and left. Around the corner, at another building, there was a bench area like a bus stop. A tall woman sat there. I approached and asked her if she had run into the other two, and she told me her name was Cherish, and that she was there to visit her “husband”, a woman, since she was gay. The “husband” was in jail for some infraction and it was unclear when she/he would be getting out.
Cherish was a piece of work herself, very odd acting and with some strange ideas. She was missing the pinky finger on one hand and had some burn scars. I asked her what had happened and she told me that several years ago, while cooking chicken in a frying pan, she had a small stroke, and during that time she had grabbed hold of one of the pieces of chicken—still in the pan frying, and had just held her hand in the boiling oil for almost 20 minutes. It cost her the finger and surrounding tissue, and as a result can now only count to nine.
I was wondering when I was going to run across a crazy person, Ill bet those folks were wondering the same thing.