SF with Sal and Dean

Yeah, hitchhiking is super dangerous, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I was in Vegas when I decided to give it a try. After all, I had always wanted to explore what the country had to offer but never quite had the means. With my pride in my pocket and my fingers crossed, I stuck out my thumb and hoped for the best. About an hour passed before I was picked up by these two pretty nice guys. One was named Sal, from New York, on the road, and clearly trying to escape something, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Maybe it was a person, or his past, or maybe even some future he saw coming. The other was Dean, Sal’s best friend and TOTAL ladies’ man. I asked where they were headed. “San Francisco,” they said. Sounds good to me, I thought, shrugging and hopping into the car.

Sal was on the lookout for some French guy named Remi Boncoeur. I knew him for about five minutes before I realized his name couldn’t have been more appropriate. His laugh was infectious, and his incessant need to spend money he ultimately didn’t have on others was both concerning and amusing. I met them at a bar. Remi asked about my life thus far, where I was going and what I was doing. We spoke and laughed, but I could tell there was a sadness in the air. Sal was always on the move, and I could get the vibe that he didn’t even feel at home with his aunt back on the east coast, only at home with Dean when they were on the road running away from their real lives. We talked for hours and hours, but before I knew it, we were all heading off in our own directions. With a quick kiss and a wave, the men were gone from my life. That one night felt like a lifetime, and I know that I will remember them for the rest of mine.