I awoke to find my head slumped on the shoulder of a shaggy bearded man wearing green shorts and a badly stained leather vest. He handed me a beer in a dented can. "You had better wet your beak before we have to face it," he said. The tepid beer burned my throat. It was cheap and left an aftertaste akin to moldy cheese.
The man pointed to his "old lady" at the wheel of the Playmobil Volkswagen T1 Camping Bus. "She'll get us there, but we need to be ready for rougher roads," he said with an odd grin on his face. The liquid in the can splashed in my lap as we hit a bump in the road.
It seemed strange that I couldn't remember how I had gotten here, or how long I'd been with these peculiar people. I could only recall the giant hand of God reaching down from above to remove the roof to access the camper's interior and placing me inside.
The front passenger seat was occupied by a short plump woman wearing a dirty tie-dye dress. Her lips were chapped and cracked. She had a strange way of staring at me out of the corner of her eye. She let out a tiny squeal and covered her face with her hands when I looked at her. The man with the beard leaned forward and whispered in her ear, and she immediately relaxed. I saw the orange glow of a cigarette in her hand. He and the woman shared it back and forth.
"This is a one-way trip," said the man through the hazy smoke.
"I don't understand," I said.
"You will."
"I want you to tell me now."
"Then we'll stop and leave you here," he said and laughed.
I felt the frustration welling up inside. I needed answers. I looked back and forth between the two faces. The woman with the cigarette laughed and shrugged her shoulders, and the man snickered.
"You'll have to ask him." He jerked his head towards the back of the camper.
A man sat in the rear compartment of the camper. He was wearing a tan business suit and shiny black shoes. His face was smooth and his hands were folded in his lap. His eyes were closed. I couldn't tell if he was sleeping, praying, or just ignoring me.
"He speaks only to me, so you will have to wait for him to introduce himself." The man with the beard turned to study me, and his eyes glowed green.
"He's a prophet," said the woman with the chapped lips.
"No. He is a salesman, but he has wisdom. He will tell you who you are."
"Who am I?"
"You see, some people are like us. They are travelers. They are seekers of truth. You are one of us."
"Am I?"
"Yes, and we will take you there."
"Take me where?"
"That will be revealed in time," the man said with a sly smile.
I saw the man with the beard and his companion exchange a look. "Don't worry," the woman said, giggling. "It's all part of the journey."
"When will we arrive?"
The woman cackled and put her hand over her mouth, and the man in the beard let out a hoarse, smoke-choked laugh. "When will you arrive? You will arrive when you arrive, and when you do, you'll know you are there."
"If you don't tell me, I'll get up, walk back to the road, and hitch a ride with the next person who passes by."
"That would be unfortunate," said the woman.
"We need you," the man with the beard said.
"What for?"
"For the journey. For the trip. The trip of a lifetime."
