Last night we headed down the the bus station(you know, they are always in the best places in a city)at 2 am to pick up our long lost wandering room-mate and the best friend a person could have, Ibrihama. He just finished his second month driving around the country in his eighteen wheeler. He know has finished his training completely, and will get his own rig next week.

The bus station at 2 am is a wonderful place. I admit, I love going there. You always find people you just won't see anywhere else. There was an Indian group sitting in the waiting room, all dressed in hot pink. When Mark and I made our way outside to the "designated smoking area" two of them were out there having a smoke. My curiousity was killing me, but at 2 am, it's better to leave things alone.

We'd gone to the bar last night and Mark, after having several beers, had fallen asleep twice before we got there(once in the truck). He'd been up since 4:30 am Fri morning and was now working on being up for 22 and a half hours.

We hadn't seen Ibrihama since July 3 so Mark managed to make it to 23 and a half hours without sleep.


Ibrihama has now seen more of America than I ever have or probably ever will. On the way home last night, he tells me he was in Arkansas(and it smells, I tell him it's because of all the chicken houses).

He has a thick french-african accent(he's only been speaking english for about five or six years) and he said at one of the places he stopped in the state, a woman asked him where he is from.

He answered, "I'm from here."

She, of course, didn't believe him.

He said, "My sister is from here."

She still didn't believe him. Finally he broke down and said, "His roommate's wife is from Arkansas."

He is indeed the brother I never had.

Welcome home!