I Don't Need No Norah Jones

Warning: this post has nothing to do with Ms. Jones.

Hitchhikers! I saw some tonight in the dark on the side of the freeway. It was just after that little tunnel just after the Golden Gate Bridge, and these two shadowy guys were standing there with their thumbs sticking out.

Who picks up hitchhikers anymore? Who in the name of MARIN picks up hitchhikers anymore? My guess is these two guys were campers unfresh from the eucalyptus wilds, having stumbled around the redwood trees for three days on LSD and cliff bars. Probably harmless. Probably not axe murderers or escaped convicts or right-wing republicans. But still, I wouldn't stop even if I wasn't on a freeway going 60 miles per hour on my way to see my therapist in the rain.

Meanwhile, unseen, millions of microorganisms hitch a ride with me to wherever I'm going, whenever I'm going anywhere, and even when I'm just sitting still typing into the computer. I am not alone.