#85 Drive-by Shots

I get a big load of human nature every time I go out driving. I tend to observe interesting variations on the human theme. Maybe its because I once took a class called field biology. We would go on field trips out to the desert and my instructor would point things out through the window of our carryall van along the way. I learned to distinguish between an agave and a yucca—even without flowers—at 50 yards.
So I get these little drive-by shots at the human condition. Sometimes they make me cry. Sometimes they make me laugh. Sometimes they make me wonder. Sometimes they make me wonder...how I ended up in the same species.
So I wondered the other day when I went driving by one of our local casinos. I had just visited said casino a few days before and had walked all the way through it, looking for the manager one of the kind security people had speculated may be on the premises. There was a lounge and a bar and a grill and a buffet and a restaurant and a deli and a coffee bar. And there was the gaming area which paid for everything else, including contributions to just about every tribal and charity event in town. And more than anything else, there was the overwhelming atmosphere of cigarette smoke. I’m sure the casino had invested big bucks in air filtration and recirculation systems but to no avail. The insistence and persistence of the smoke smell, especially to an ex-smoker like myself was incredible. My upper lip started to feel warm, my nose clogged up, my eyes commenced to watering, and my throat got scratchy. I felt like I was stuck behind an LA bus.
Anyhow, as I was driving past this same casino a few days later, I noticed something odd outside on the porch behind the kitchen. Four guys dressed like cooks. Smoking. At first it didn’t register. I get so used to seeing smokers smoking out on the back porch of restaurants and in the entryways of state buildings. Then it hit me. Wait a minute. This is a casino, on an Indian reservation. Truth be told it was a nice day. I guess everybody likes a little fresh air.
The other vagabond vignette I glimpsed in my travels that day made me chuckle even more. As you’ve no doubt noticed, certain hobo types stake out certain areas of beseechment. Begging is like any other area of employment, it comes with certain requirements, qualifications and development of technique. This fellow is one of the hyper-hobo types. He energetically strolls back and forth in his tapping territory, handling his pan with more enthusiasm than most. So I was amused when he turned around and I read the back of his T-Shirt. It said: “Buck The System.” A noble aspiration. And one, by all appearances, that was working out pretty well.
America, ya gotta love it.