Phenomenon on Commerce
I decided to hit up San Jacinto once more before crashing at the Marriott.
A 60-year old officer sat behind the desk, more intent on work than me.
“Hi, are you open?” I blurted, patience not my virtue. “Can you update me on my son?” I gave him Noah’s name.
“He’s in medical. Does he have a condition?”
“He’s an addict”, I said.
“It’s going to be awhile. I wouldn’t even come back until 10:30 tomorrow morning. Call later if you want, perhaps we’ll know something.” He handed me Noah’s pin number.
Back to the hotel, asleep at 11pm, I set the alarm for midnight.
12 am. “Hi, I’m trying to find out the status of my son, his pin is 24897.”
“His bond posted but he hasn’t started processing. Call in the morning.”
2 am. “Hi, I’m calling about my son, his pin number is 24897, can you tell me anything?”
“He started processing. He’ll get a phone call before he gets out. Go to sleep and wait for him to call.”
I woke up every hour until 6.
6 am. “Hi, my son’s pin is 24897, can you tell me what his status is?”
“He’s processing. I can’t tell you anything. The only thing you can do is wait until he calls you,”
8 am. “Hi, my son’s pin is 24897. Can you tell me anything?”
“No, we don’t know anything. It could be 6 to 12 hours”
Split second decision: I would get coffee, drive to Commerce street, sit in my truck and wait.
Navigating through the third largest city in the United States, I pulled up to the last stoplight facing the jail.
It was red.
Something caught my eye. Someone walking to my left. He was wearing a dark jacket, a hood pulled over his head and black jeans. He stared at me. I blinked, witnessing the phenomenon.
Rolling down my window he squeaked, “Mom? “Whaaaat are you doing here?”
“Getting you”, I said, “Get in.”