I made a new friend Wednesday night in the Clearfield, Pennsylvania Wal-Mart.
In my experience, road dwellers don’t make a lot of friends on the road. You start to look at normal people differently. You’re a ghost, haunting a strange town full of people you never knew in life. You see them, and they see you, but you know you’ll be 1,000 miles away in a week, and you both will have forgotten each other by then, so why bother getting to know them? “Carl” is just a desk clerk, and “you” are just a faceless guest at the Sleep Inn. It’s easier just to stay in your lane, do your thing and let them do theirs.
To be fair, the Army Field Band is a little different. The Field Band is full of friendly, engaging people, interested in the lives of strangers. But Field Band tours aren’t oppressively long: usually between four and six weeks. The “ghost” mindset occurs when tours go on for months and months, when it’s your way of life year round. It’s nobody’s fault. You can’t help it. And I admit, some of the ghost followed me from my last road gig. Best to just keep your head down and do your job.
But on Wednesday, I made a new friend.
I didn’t mean to. I was minding my own business. I’d had a long day, with two gigs in two different towns: A brass quintet recital in Slippery Rock and a Concert Band concert in Clearfield. It was nearly midnight, and I needed groceries. It was raining a little, but I needed groceries, so I walked the mile to the Wal-Mart.
I picked out some fruit, and was looking for some earplugs for a colleague (whose roommate unknowingly has a snoring problem) when I saw a movie on sale: Batman: Year One. It’s an animated movie based on the terrific Frank Miller comic from 1987. I hadn’t heard much about the movie, but the comic is one of my all-time favorites, and I literally learned to read from Batman comics. I picked up a copy.
At 12:15 AM, two registers were open. Mine was manned by a guy my age. His name tag read “Thomas.”
“Evening,” said Thomas.
“Evening,” I said back.
Thomas tried unsuccessfully to scan my clementines through the produce bag, and punched in the code. He moved on to the apples, the earplugs, and finally to Batman: Year One. Thomas perked up. “You like Batman?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“You seen the new Batman game just come out?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. Arkham City. “What’s it called?”
“Arkham City. I think it looks pretty cool.”
Thomas the cashier didn’t need to know I pre-ordered the Collector’s Edition of Batman: Arkham City from Best Buy two months ago.
He didn’t need to know that I pre-ordered it not for the Kotobukiya sculpture that comes with it, or the Coheed and Cambria soundtrack, but for the download code that renders Batman in the style of Frank Miller from The Dark Knight Returns (arguably Frank’s best work).
It also includes a code that enables you to play the Challenge Maps as Robin. The Tim Drake Robin, the one after the Jason Todd Robin but before the current, Damian Wayne Robin.
Thomas didn’t need to know that much about me. I am, after all, just a ghost, and a week from now this conversation will never have happened. Keep your head down, buy your fruit, go back to the Hampton.“Yeah, it does,” I answered.
“You read comics?” asked Thomas.
“I do,” I said.
“What ones?”
“Locke & Key, Criminal, Powers, The Walking Dead, American Vampire. I’ve actually written a few.” What am I doing?
“Have you really!” said Thomas, legitimately interested. “You make up your own characters and everything?”
None of your business. Give me my receipt. “I do,” I said.
“What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The latest one follows a Confederate General during the American Civil War.”
That last bit sparked a long and in-depth conversation. We talked about my story, the Civil War, slavery, Pennsylvania, President Obama, and most of all, Gettysburg.
Thomas is a superfan of Gettysburg, was in fact moved almost to tears as he talked about it. He goes there every year. He told me all about some amazing room that overlooks the battlefield, and the room itself somehow blends with the view to give the illusion that you’re right there in the thick of it. It’s his favorite thing. I admit I didn’t entirely get the gist of it, but it sounded cool, and it obviously made a huge impression on him.
I talked to Thomas for a long time, and we learned a fair bit about each other. Because of it I got caught in one Hell of a rainstorm, and got back to the Hampton completely soaked. But I’m not sorry. If I’d gone through the check-out lane with the mean-looking old woman, I would already have forgotten Thomas the cashier, and now we’re friends, even though I’ll never see him again.
And although I’ve been to Gettysburg several times, I feel strangely inclined to go back sometime soon, and look for Thomas’s magic room.