Thursday, October 26, 2017

Chapter 7: Dogman Gets New Threads


https://www.cntraveler.com/stories/2009-11-23/ten-things-not-to-do-in-san-francisco



     "Nice duds Bub" greets Karma as I flap down to her campsite in bell-bottom jeans, a tie-dye t-shirt, and leather sandals.

"Good morning to you too" I quip, hoping my blush is hidden behind a smile and open arms in the midday sun. "We're going for a ride."

"Yes we are" she agrees, looking up into my eyes as she returns the hug. "But where we're going might need a more official looking presence."

"It's my day off" I explain, "but the ranger get up is in the Jeep."


___________



     My uniform was in the Jeep because I had just come from a rare shopping excursion over in the Castro.

"Hey handsome" cooed a guy outside a bar as I strolled down Market Street, "ready for a Moscow Mule at the Missouri Mule?"

My heart was racing as I shook my head no and stepped down into the street to steer clear of him.

"Organic mescaline?" offered a dreadlocked guy at the next corner as I scurried past with a hand over my wallet.

     Finally I came to a shop with wool tapestries hanging in the window. A rack out front was hung with colorful t-shirts and one inside had pants of all sizes and fabrics. I grabbed the first large shirt I came to and pulled out a pair of old blue jeans with flowered triangles sewn into the bottom seams.

"Sandals?" asked a tall woman behind the counter, her dark hair swaying to her waist as she reached into a bin for a pair of thongs.

I muttered a yes, plopped down a fifty dollar bill, and hustled back to the Jeep with an armful of new clothes, a red face, and a growing smile.


__________



     "Perfect" Karma continues, "we'll need that Park Service vehicle too."

"What are you plotting?" I ask, my curiosity growing in equal measure to my trepidation.

"You'll see" she replies as she heads up the hill. "Now give me those keys and change back into your uniform as I drive us over to Oakland."

     I did as I was told, enjoying the view as she maneuvered us over first the Golden Gate and then the Bay Bridge.

     "Just come with me and act official" she commands as she pops on the flashers and we climb out of the Jeep at the main entrance to Oaklawn Naval Hospital .

"Wait a second sister" I stall, "should I bring my revolver?"

"Your badge will do the trick" she replies walking toward the door, "but grab those threads you just took off."

     I match Karma's stride past a large black man in an MP uniform and down the main hallway to the in-patient wing, her determined look hopefully hiding my growing anxiety. Is it worth losing my job and park service career over a 17-year-old high school dropout who probably likes her old boyfriend better than me anyway? But I've already taken the leap to help her to find what she needs, damn that old bachelor ranger.
   
     "Mr. Reed, we're your transport to rehabilitation" she calls out as we arrive at the foot of a bearded guy's bed. "Here are your civilian clothes."

"Yes ma'am" he replies, flashing a quick glance at my wide eyes as he strips off the hospital gown and pulls my tie-dye over his head.

Karma and I take an arm as he nearly falls over shimmying to get my bell-bottoms over thick thighs. Our recessional proceeds without a hitch unless you count the cheers from several of the bedbound seamen, a nod from a nurse leaning over to change bandages on an amputee, and a wink from the MP holding open the door.



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