Our friend Weegie introduced me to Ox late in the fall
semester; he was her fast-talking boyfriend’s friend, straight-man, and singing
partner. She offered a blind date. I declined; I had a test the next day. She
twisted my arm and I went on the date.
Ox’s reputation intrigued me.
We dated several times after that and enjoyed each
other’s company.
Ox took a leave of absence for the spring semester.
Weegie’s sister Ann got a spring-break job in a hotel in
Lakeland, Florida.
Ox, wore his college boy khakis, oxford cloth shirt and loafers
to hitchhike south through the scary southern states. He carried a dirty raincoat and a bindle with
clean socks and underwear. He slept in a
variety of fleabags, farm fields and rooms.
He had adventures.
For example, In Lyons, Georgia, the sheriff had talked
with him at the northern city limit, and took him to a jail cell without
booking him. The cell had no window
glass behind the bars. The next morning the
sheriff drove Ox to the southern city limit.
He advised Ox, “Boy, keep on traveling.
I don’t want to see you here again.”
In those days southern sheriffs worried about outside
agitators.
Weegie and I rode the train to Lakeland. Ann booked a room for Weegie and me to share. Ann was thrilled that the Detroit Tigers farm team was
staying at her hotel.
Our first afternoon in Florida, Ox telephoned the hotel. He came by.
He was glad to shower in our room.
During a break Ann visited as well. Ann was full of Detroit Tigers
stories. I was bored with the stories; I
didn’t know the names of any Tigers and really didn’t care. Weegie and Ox got deep into a discussion of
current events. I attempted to insert
sophomoric, ill-informed opinions, which were ignored. My nose bent out of joint. I felt jealous of Weegie – a new and
unpleasant feeling for me.
Weegie’s and Ox’s discussion wound down, Ox suggested I
walk out with him. We walked along Lakeland’s deserted streets. We sat under a tree to talk. Whatever we discussed engrossed us both. I leaned against the tree. I am a Californian, barefoot is my preferred
mode. I took off my sandals and crossed
my ankles modestly on a vine. The
drizzle freshened to a rain. We talked
on. The rain abated a little. We made a break for it, I carried my sandals. The sun had gone down hours ago. The night was dark but the streetlight
reflections shone in the rainy pavement.
The rain began to pelt. My ankles
started to itch. At first I ignored the
itch. Soon I had to stop and
scratch. Ox held my elbow while I
scratched first one leg and foot and then the other. As we stood thus off balance on the sidewalk,
a huge crocodile waddled slowly down the center of the road. The crocodile ignored us; he took about 10 minutes to pass out of
sight. We ran back to the hotel room
laughing, drenched, hair and clothes streaming rivers of water.
Ann kindly found a room with hotel employees
for Ox.
That was the only
crocodile I ever saw in the wild.
