May 22, 2010

Shortly before departure Luke and I picked up a teenage chicken to add to my brood. Raised by a young boy on the outskirts of the city, this girl was particularly friendly and well-adjusted. I named her Almond and took her with me on the road. She was a model passenger and no trouble at all. It wasn’t until I got to the border check point entering California that the situation took on a stressful edge. You are not supposed to bring fruit across, what are they going to say about a chicken! Is this how eccentrics feel? What had seemed normal to me was suddenly and starkly weird.

We made it. I didn’t have to leave Almond with the guard at the border. I was waved through like the thousands of hippies before me.


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