More specifically, a Pokemon Go player stumbled to the side of our chicken run while I was cleaning it. His phone died and he was lost.
We aren’t in the middle of nowhere, just outside the city limits and only 25 miles from Austin. There still aren’t any sidewalks or street lights here. We have a well. The subdivison doesn’t have a through street. We go trick-or-treating in the subdivision next to us because houses here are too far apart and it’s too dark. Someone lost on foot is very odd.
Excuse me. Hi. I’m Weldon. I’m 22 years old and I’m a college student. My phone died and I have no idea where I am. Do you guys have Lyft or Uber here? I need to get to Austin. Is that close?
Wearing a big straw hat with I was normal a dozen chickens ago printed on my tank top and holding a rake with 10 hens at my feet, it must have been a little scary for poor Weldon.
It was around 5:30pm and very hot. Weldon was wearing sweat pants which were covered with burs to the waist. He didn’t know how far he’d walked, just that he’d walked through a field and down our street.
I sent him around to the front of the house, where my husband was outside. Weldon told us he had been on a road trip with friends after graduating from Boston University. They had been all the way to the Coachella festival and were on their way back when he felt unsafe in the car because his friends were high. Okay, but this is August and Coachella was in April. The details were fuzzy, but so was Weldon.
My husband and I explained how far Austin was and told him he could use our phone to call his friends. He didn’t want to do that though; he wanted to called his mom. She didn’t answer. He then told us he had cash and could take a cab to Austin. A taxi company recently began service here, so Weldon was in luck.
While we waited for the taxi, we gave Weldon water and tamales. An elderly Mexican woman stopped by selling tamales about 30 minutes before Weldon showed up. We’d never seen her before and we hope she comes back. She made the best tamales I’ve ever had. Weldon liked them too.
Weldon learned all about our chickens. I don’t think he believed any of it and doubt he’ll remember anyway. He did tell us he thought we were making up a story about a chicken who lays green eggs, so I brought him one of Lucy’s green eggs.
He held the egg and said, “Wow! A green egg! It’s green, right? I met a lady down the street who is a chicken farmer. Do her chickens lay green eggs too?”
No, that’s me. You met me around the corner of the house. The chickens down the street were eaten by coyotes.
We wish Weldon the best!