I just took Ferret some sandwiches. I had noticed this morning that he looked like he has lost a lot of weight. I parked at the railroad museum and made my way back to his campsite which is just beyond the railyard.
"Lunch," I said loudly as I walked up to his tent so as not to startle him. Big S said he was back down here and he was. I could hear him stirring in his tent. He had gotten drunk enough where he wanted to sleep it off.
Ferret poked his head out of his tent. And then proceeded to teeter on his knees as he urinated out his tent at the threshold of it's door. I couldn't help but laugh. He was pretty drunk.
"You hungry, man?" I asked.
"What did you bring?" Ferret asked, slurring his words something terribly.
"Ham and cheddar sandwiches with potato chips and apple pastries," I told him.
"Thank you," he said as he took the plastic bag filled with food from my hand.
I didn't stay long. I got back in my car and drove home. When I was homeless, I would have loved for someone to visit my campsite with food. Cooking was always an ordeal living in the woods. I've always said my savior would be bearing a sack of cheeseburgers, packs of Marlboros, and a case of beer.