Day 25: Homeless at McDonald's

(Mile 335 to 354 = 19 miles)

7 miles by 8:30; we were ready.

This morning we hit McDonald's.  THE McDonald's.  The one everyone talks about in Southern California.  We made 7 miles in 2.5 hours, which is fast for us.  When we arrived, Maverick, Dyno, and Texas Chill were already there eating breakfast, stuff spread out all over a corner of the place. 

Me?  As soon as I walked in the door, I started scouting the place for outlets.  (My solar charger adapter is on the fritz, and my phone isn't charging.)  I found one behind the trash cans.  That done, I ordered the first of what would be two breakfasts.  When I opened my first bacon egg McMuffin, it was about the size of my fist.  There was no way one meal deal was going to be enough.  Two meals and two drinks later (I wanted coffee AND Coke), I finally stopped to put my feet up (reduces swelling) and looked around.

Yes, it has come to this. Handstands for McDonald's.

What did I see?  People with CLEAN clothes.  Khaki pants without dirt!  Polo shirts with creases!  I found myself looking at the women's hair and admiring how oil-free it all was.  And then I looked down at my own pants.  Milk that leaked, mashed potatoes from dinner two days ago, oil from some plant, dirt streaks, the bleach spot from the Laundromat.  And my shirt!  Blue.  Brown where my backpack straps sit -- crusted with a white salty outline from sweat. 

I went to the restroom three times while I was there (nearly 3 hours); each time, my hands splashed the whole sink a dirty brown.  I looked in the mirror -- a tan, sunburned face surrounded by a frizzy braid smiled back.  I looked happy.  I looked down.  I looked happy and homeless.

Wile E. Coyote territory.

I went to check on my phone.  I emailed people while leaning over the edge of the garbage cans.  Did I mention that I smell like skunky jerky?  A few people recognized us as hikers and talked to us ... I always started with an apology for my stench.  And then I found myself brushing my shirt or tucking my hair behind my ears -- as if either made a difference. 

When I left, I felt a little defeated.  I had my water, my Gatorade, Fritos, and Starbursts from the gas station, a full belly ... but I had not washed my underwear.  I desperately wanted to wash them in the bathroom sink.  Oh, I knew it was totally inappropriate, but I still wanted to do it.  I wouldn't, but I wanted to.  It struck me then that I not only look homeless, but I feel homeless.  And, as a matter of fact, right now, I am homeless.

Gorgeous purple fields of awful Poodle Dog Bush.

Three miles later and away from civilization, I felt comfortable again.  Dust flying up at my legs, sweat dripping down my nose, and the wind blowing my odor a different direction.  I'd forgotten about the underwear and the Starbursts.  I was at home once again.

Gumby and Maverick relaxing at a water cache. Lounge lizards.