A-Bandon

I stopped in Bandon Oregon for the evening, and what a very forgettable night. The cold ocean air had seeped into the desolate town, and I was exhausted from the days driving. I retired to my bed and in the morning was rudely awakened to the sounds of carpenters hacking away at an old deck outside.

I took this as an opportunity to get up and on the road early. I walked to a local breakfast joint that I had noticed from the day before, and sat at the counter of this dismal establishment. I waited for quite some time for a waitress to appear, and when she did, she was curt with me and I ordered away. As I sat there patiently waiting my food, in strolled a tall fellow who sat down on a stool at the empty counter beside me. He wasted no time before striking up a conversation with me.

“Hay how ya doing? Names Brian, you a local?” A barrage more questions followed, and he hardly gave me enough time to answer. It wasn’t before long he started telling me all about his job, a salesmen no doubt, selling the instructions for making Bio-diesel to small towns such as Bandon, and a lot of other towns along the coast, as he proudly bolstered. He said the process was quite simple and that even I could do it, and get certified by the government to make my own. Then he launched into a tangent about his hot Korean wife, someone he was very proud to have on his arm for purely aesthetic reasons. I could tell at this point that I was talking to someone who probably was a social misfit in high school, and the pretty girls didn’t give the time of day to, because to reinforce he was telling the truth about his wife’s looks he had a provocative picture of her on hand to show.