Herman Hickle

Past the bridge with gigantic fences, past two funerary houses, just besides the tree where crows like to stand, is my house. The cemetery, however, is crowded by old tombs. I have never seen a soul in the funerary houses, crows only shout at 5:30 pm, and the fence on the bridge covers the beautiful view of a waterfall. Yet, the landscape makes you worry about monsters coming out from manholes, crows ripping off your eyes, and rabbits hunting for your flesh. I feel comfort. If anything ever happens, I might be there to see it (and maybe even shoot a video for youtube).

Anyway, this is the story of Herman Hickle, a man I met on a greyhound bus running to upstate New York. Herman Hickle was unpacking his suitcase in the overhead compartment of the bus. He took out some well folded clothes, and piled them carefully. Clothes went to the back, shoes on front, some things on the right, and other things on the left. No, it was not an oversized compartment: it was a normal bus compartment with just enough space for a purse or a backpack. Mr. Hickle knew how to use the space. We were going to travel for only 4 hours and Herman Hickle had already spent 20 minutes unpacking.

Herman Hickle was wearing shorts and a t-short with no sleeves. He was in his middle fifties, whitish hair, thin, with some curly hair coming out of his armpits. He had the looks of someone very worried to get things in the right spot. It is not that there was a lot of competition, from my observation; nobody in the entire bus even cared to open an overhead compartment. My backpack was on the floor, the girl next to me had hers on the floor too. I mean, nobody even cared on what Mr. Hickle was doing. Well, nobody but me, I was really interested.

Once he finished unpacking, Herman Hickle sat. I watched through the window. Clouds covered the sunlight more with every step the bus made forward to our destination. Just a few more hours from home, sweet home… Mr. Hickle stood again. Just 10 minutes after sitting. He reached the overhead compartment and pulled a small packet of something with his hand. He sat. Mr. Hickle was very happy, he was having a snack.

It hit me! I understood! Herman Hickle had made for himself a comfortable one bedroom suite! Mini-bar and everything… Herman Hickle was a bus-guest.

(to be continued)