Cool Heat

I can feel my feet. Actually, I can only really feel that I can't feel them. This is an odd sensation. I wake with a start and begin turning my body carefully so as to avoid the steering wheel. I stretch my blanket to its furthest, but it still can't manage to wrap entirely around my feet without slipping off my shoulders.
The rain pounding against the window next to my ear distracts me momentarily. It's cold in here, and my feet want socks desperately. Jordan is staring at the roof of the car as I sit up and stretch my legs.
"Yawwwwwwnn. Holy crap it got cold; my feet are freezing."
Jordan looks over just to say, "You sound like a wookiee when you yawn."
"Huh?"
"You know, like Chewbacca. From Star Wars."
"Oh, right. Good morning to you too."
Leaning onto the steering wheel, I can't see outside at all due to the fogged windows. The rain slapping on the roof sounds like a tropical torrent inside the cab of my tiny Neon, and I find myself immensely dreading anything involving an exit from the car.
Exhaling in frustration, I glance back at Jordan, "It sounds like it's raining pretty hard. I really don't want to get out."
Immediately he tells me with audible urgency, "Dude, I really have to piss."
"Yeah, me too. Let's go on the count of three, okay?"
"Sure, that sounds good," Jordan replies.
Gripping the handle of the door beside me with fervent concentration, I start counting; one, two, and then I remember.
"Wait!"
Jordan flinches away from the door, having expected to be rushing outward. "What??"
"Grab your toothbrush."
The doors flung open, we immediately discover that the downpour is little more than a drizzle, but we both hike up our shorts with one hand and begin bounding toward the restrooms anyway. The flannel clad trucker exiting through the door steps quickly out of my way as I rush through the opening. I'm careful not to slip on the tile floor in the lobby as I make my way to the men's bathroom.
"Hey, Jordan."
Looking over the partition between me and his urinal, he responds, "Yeah?"
While still examining my chin and neck in the mirror through downturned eyes, I describe my current revelation to him; "Ya know, Jordan, it's a sad day when the hair on your face is far thicker than the hair on top of your head."
Zipping up and approaching the sink next to mine, he begins to laugh. "Dude, just be happy that you can grow a respectable beard."
"Fine, but you be happy that you can grow a respectable head of hair."
"Yep, I am thankful for that on a daily basis," he says while running his fingers through his hair.
Refocusing on my hygiene, I have another revelation: I stink. While brushing my teeth I scan the walls of the restroom for any paper towel dispensers, but all I see are air dryers. This was our second straight night and fourth in the past ten days sleeping in my car, as well as the third day without a shower, and now it is really beginning to show. I had planned on using some paper towels to swab out my armpits and wash my face, but it looks like I'll have to wait. So instead I finish brushing my teeth and enjoy the warm air of the hand dryer on my skin.
Flinging the door open, we begin to run back to the car. I take a shortcut over the wet grass while keeping my heels flexed upward in an attempt to keep my flip flops from flipping water all over the back of my legs. Slamming the doors shut behind us, I hurriedly fumble for the keys and start the engine.
"Sheesh, who knew it could get so cold in May?"
"I know, it wasn't nearly this cold last night in Illinois."
The engine chokes to life as the heater begins to blow cold air through its ducts onto our legs and faces.
"Remind me never to come to Nebraska again."
"Well, maybe it won't be so bad if you bring a better blanket next time."
Thinking back to last night, I step on the gas and tell Jordan, "Good point. You should be glad that I told you to get your blanket out of the trunk before it really got cold."
"All right, D, you've got me there. Where do you want to eat, anyway?"
Looking at the gas gauge, I know that we should be able to make it past the border before we need to refuel. "Not in Nebraska. That much I know."
Leaning back and closing his eyes, Jordan says with a yawn, "Sure, man. I'm sure we'll find a place."

Good versus Evil

I'm not going to quote Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter for you, but I assure you that I most certainly can. Have you ever taken the time to ask yourself why all of these sagas enjoy such lasting popularity? Not a single one of them has a particularly original storyline. All three employ simplistic, purely (though inexplicably...) evil tyrants in the forms of Emperor Palpatine, Lord Voldemort, and Sauron. One of them is very poorly written (Anakin, you're breaking my heart!), and all three rely heavily on various forms of magic. The protagonist in each is a confidence-lacking youngster who finds himself along the way. Wow, it sounds like a blockbuster in the making.
Do I mean to mock these stories? Honestly, yes, but I'm mocking myself in the process because I love all three stories as anyone who knows me will attest. They're timeless, essentially simple, and play on the greatest of man's emotions: altruism, greed, goodness, and fear. The world in each is remarkably black and white. In Star Wars, the Empire and the Sith are evil. The Rebellion and the Jedi are good. That's just how it is. Do you want to do some good today? Well then, pick up your lightsaber and kill some stormtroopers or a Darth Someone if you get the chance! In Lord of the Rings, men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits are good. Sauron and his minions are evil. Once again, doing some good is relatively simple. Pick up your sword, head up into the mountains to kill some orcs or goblins. Hack those evil creatures, dude, and tell us if you ever see a female orc! As for Harry Potter, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are evil (Death Eaters? Please, how could they possibly be good with a name like that?). They like to kill people for fun and usurp power through torture, murder, and whatever means possible. Yet again, the enemy is easily recognizable and unquestionably ill-intentioned.
Am I telling you that I want to combat Evil? You bet I am. Have I mentioned that I've decapitated over 20 orcs just today? I also slapped Draco Malfoy. At times I have seriously considered dropping all of my current career plans and aiming to become a U.S. Marshall. How badass would it be to hunt down murderers and rapists for a living? I could basically call myself an auror and measure how much better I make the world annually. Here's a glimpse of this world in which I fight Evil as a U.S. Marshall and my wife saves lives every day as a hot doctor. Stethoscope and all.
Hypothetical, yet existent future wife: "Welcome home, darling husband. Have some delicious pie. What did you do at work today?"
A burlier, hairier future me: "Oh, you know, the usual. Toppled one international sex slave organization, and beat the hell out of a child rapist with my fists for resisting arrest. He'll never touch a child again after the beating I gave him."
Future wife: "Wow, you are sexy and cool. I look really hot right now."
Future me: "Whoa, you are so right."
Future wife: "Take me now, please."
Future me: "Deal."
Anyway, that's what I would like. Positive thinking brings results, right? But, back to my basic message, stories are made great by containing what we scarcely have. Simplicity. Heroics. And most of all, magic. May the Force be with you. Good luck, future me. Save our society.