The day started out simple enough, mostly routine stops, nothing out of the ordinary… or so I thought. The office calls and says they have a customer that needs someone out soon, today
if at all possible. I say, “sure, I’ll work them in.”
They proceed to give me the address and off I go. I’m fairly familiar with the area as I’m bouncing down the county road. The 911 addresses getting closer to where I need them to be and then they quit. Just blank mailboxes from there on out. That’s not that uncommon in rural southeastern Oklahoma, usually we can get within a house or two of the destination. I get to where I think I’m going and the sense of dread starts to sink in. I begin up the driveway and I see this 1960’s model trailer that’s in dire need of repair. In the yard was a couple of old broke down Ford trucks with the beds piled up with trash. I stop the truck, take a deep breath, and get out. Between me and the porch was a tiny trail in knee high weeds filled with old car seats, bicycles, and broke down weed eaters. I traverse the trail and begin the ascent up the stairs. Little did I know, the first one has a sweet spot that one must place his foot or it twisted and you scrape your shin down the second stair. After composing myself I made up the stairs and on to the porch, which was more littered than the trail. After stepping over air conditioners, trash bags, broken toys, and a kitchen table I knock on the door. Immediately, what sounds like 13 ankle biters begin barking and scratching at the door. From deep within the trailer I hear “come in,” but I hesitate and knock again. By now the kids are screaming cause the dogs are barking so loud that you can barely hear the kids screaming. After a few minutes of commotion I hear stomping followed by cussing as the footsteps get closer to the door. Finally, after what seems like an hour, the door bursts open. Dogs go wild!! Biting and fighting and the whole time I’m trying to keep from losing my cool. She gets the dogs calmed down it hits me… the smell. Oh my goodness, the smell. I can only relate it to a putrid combination of dirty dishes, messy diapers, cigarette smoke, roach feces, ammonia, dog crap, soured milk, litter box, and sweaty grade schoolers. The dogs go into an uproar again as she runs them back into the house and she shuts the door. She stands there clearly drug induced and mostly naked with a half smoked cigarette in her mouth and then yet another smell hits me… it’s her. She reeks of onions, beer, sweat, and last nights sexcapades. It’s all I can to to keep a straight face. She grunts, “can I help you” with a confused look on her face. I say, “are you Mrs. So-in-so?” She sneers and says “no, she’s across the street.” At that very moment I hear angels singing off in the distance as a gaze across the street. There I see a brand new house, a well manicured lawn, and a BMW in the driveway. It takes me about .47 seconds to come to my senses and tell her that I’m sorry for
ering her and that I’m in the wrong place. I end the conversation with, “sorry to bother you ma’am, have a nice day” as I exit the porch looking like Indiana Jones running out of the Temple of Doom. I sure dodged a bullet that day!