A Would be Stalker

The famous Dr. Jim Withers is a tremendous human being for many reasons but his ability to plan is not one of them; Hence his decision to fly into the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport (an oxymoron) at 9:40 on a Friday night to come visit me. It is a 45 minute drive to and from the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport (an oxymoron) from Tybee Island where Sam and Gordon play damn good live music on Friday nights. Hence my decision to have the famous Dr. Withers take a cab to my house.

I waited on the famous Dr. Withers with Goddess on the beloved back deck. Around 11:00 he showed up and we talked and caught up as good friends do. Then I told him it was passed my bed time and left him on the beloved back deck and went to sleep.

When I got up, he got this morning.

“You going running?” he asked.

I don’t know why he would ask such a stupid question. Just because I wore running shorts, a tee shirt and running shoes is no reason to jump to logical conclusions … but he’s a doctor … they do such things.

“No,” I scoffed, “I’m going to the Breakfast Club.”

“It’s too early to eat,” he said scratching his head still trying to wake up.

“Who’s eating?” I replied. “Come on.”

So he got ready and we stumbled in the door marked “Exit-Only” and took our seat at the Counter. A bit later the place opened, quickly filled and this dark haired woman in a bathing seat took the stool next to mine.

Philip, who has red hair, is seven feet tall, and is the master of toast and garnishment at the Breakfast Club said hello and asked me who my friend was.

“This is the famous Dr. Jim Withers,” I announced to the counter. “He is the subject of the movie ‘One Bridge to the Next.’”

“Really,” Philip said as though he was impressed. “I love paying taxes to build bridges so that people can have homes under them.”

Jim looked at him, then looked at me and then looked at him again. “That’s pretty good,” he laughed.

(In truth, Phil and I planned this whole exchange last night when I stopped into the Club and visited with him while he prepped for this morning.)

“You are in a movie,” bikini girl asked between bites of a cheese omelet, grits and dry toast?

Jim nodded then told the counter that it’s about providing health care to people who live under bridges. Philip and I were laughing at one another’s incredible senses of humor.

Then Jim went on to have a serious discussion with those to his left. I sat to his right. Bikini girl sat right of me.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I help him,” I answered.

She asked several questions about street medicine, homelessness, and health care.

Then she told me that she’s from Atlanta, loves God, and thinks that our ministry is great.

“You should call it ‘Bridges of Hope’” she told me.

“Thanks,” I said.

Then she went on to explain how the world is coming to an end in 2020 but most people don’t know that because the stars and planets are going to align in 2003.
This will result in tsunamis, hurricanes, tornados, and uncooked Chicken McNuggets. But you have to add the Holy number 7 to it and that’s how you know when the master plan is really going to be finished.

She is a very attractive bikini clad woman sitting there talking to me. She is also an idiot.

My friend Nance the waitress heard all of this, slams her ticket in front of her and says “You’re finished!”

Then Nance looks at me and mouths, “You owe me.”

“You live here?” attractive bikini idiot asks.

“I do.”

Where?

Pointing my thumb over my over my shoulder I show her that way.

“Do you have a place to rent? I’m sick of staying in a hotel,” she says.

“I don’t.”

“Do you ever let people stay with you?” she asks leaning into me.

“I don’t,” I tell her.

“Here’s my name and phone number,” she says writing it on a napkin before paying and leaving.

Nance grabs the napkin. “I’ll take care of that for you,” she explains, “you have enough stalkers.” Then she throws it away.

Jim looks at me.

I shrug my shoulders and the day begins.