Monday, March 19, 2007
The Time I Picked Up A Hitch Hiker...
Yes... I did. And it was easily one of the weirdest experiences of my life.
For anybody that doesn't know me, I did an internship in Pasadena, CA the summers of 1999 and 2000. There was a diverse group of us that lived together, and on the weekends we would hit the clubs in L.A.
Well this one particular weekend, the three of us decided that we were going to shoot down to San Diego to hit up a club. I forget the name, but it was supposed to be the hot spot. We hopped in my boy's 4-door pickup, made the 2-hour drive down there, had a good time, and decided to drive back at about 3AM.
I didn't have much to drink that night so I found myself driving back. After about 20 minutes on the highway, we approached a hitch-hiking guy with a big duffle bag. My boy goes "Let's pick 'em up."
I told him that he was out of his mind. I had never picked up a hitch hiker and didn't intend to start. My friend in the back (crazy white boy) goes, "Pick him up man. I do it all the time. He's probably just down on his luck, and if he tries to start some shit, we'll just whoop his ass."
Against my better judgement, and in attempts not to look like a punk, I pulled over. The guy walks up, throws his bag in the back and gets in the truck.
He didn't say anything when he got in. No "Hello," No "Thanks," No "Can you take me..." Nothing! I start driving again. And what really messed me up is that my boys didn't say anything either. It freaked me out but I didn't say anything. It was dead silent. All I could think was "Is this how this usually works?"
Ten minutes down the road, the guy is asleep. With me being shook and paranoid I just kept thinking about a bad outcome. All I could really think about was what was in this guys duffle bag? We were pretty close to the Mexican border, so it could have been anything. I leaned over and whispered my concerns to my boy. He was like "That's a good question...ask 'em what's in the bag."
I built up the courage, reached back and tapped him on his leg as asked "Hey man... Whatcha got in that bag?"
In this German-sounding accent he goes, "None of your fucking business."
This caught me off guard and freaked me out even more. Mind you... it's about 100-degrees outside and pitch black so I was shocked at this dude's audacity to say something that cold when we were doing him a favor. Something wasn't right about that.
So my boy jumps in and goes "Hey man... we don't want any trouble or anything, we're just curious about what you're carrying."
Once again, but a little more annoyed, the guy says "None of your fucking business!"
At this point we're all scared and pissed. My boy, being the hot-head that he is, goes "Man tell us what's in the bag or you can walk!" Once again the guy says "IT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!"
"Pull over Brandon. Let him out!" I pulled over and dude got out. I sped off.
An hour and a half later, we arrived back in Pasadena at our apartment. We got out the truck and realized that this dude forgot to get his bag.