The Hitchhiker's Guide to the North Country

By the way, the region of New York that I go to school in is indeed referred to as the "North Country." That's right, we're above upstate New York. Yay geography!

Anyway, I'm rather proud of that title up there. Not only does it just sound good, but I recently reread the Douglas Adams classic (which is far, far, too short) AND picked up a hitchhiker (sort of), thereby achieving a multifaceted degree of effectiveness that I for one certainly think is commendable.

Scene: the local Walmart, which moonlights as the cradle of civilization in St. Lawrence County. I needed apple juice, Derek needed a sewing kit because he wants to be me, Kathleen needed any number of odd things, and I'm not sure if James needed anything per se, but ventured out with us with the idea that something useful would present itself once he was there. After purchasing what we needed, discussing whether the Walmart would be the ideal sanctuary in event of a zombie apocalypse (upside - has everything possibly necessary to survive, including a water tower on the property; downside - only one story, with large glass windows of the sort that zombies could easily break through), and contemplating buying a potted plant, we finally set off into the parking lot, searching for Derek's car.

It was there that we encountered our hitchhiker. Upon seeing us heading to the car, he tried to hail us with a heavily accented "Hallo?" and a flailing wave, weighted down by around twelve grocery bags. Upon us acknowledging his presence, he inquired: "Do you guys go to Clarkson?" Clarkson is a rival college one town over, known mostly for engineering and hockey, and its subsquent 80/20 male to female ratio. My friends gave distainful sniffs, and replied that we were proud students of St. Lawrence University, thank you very much. I, on the other hand, asked if he needed a ride, the idea of which was was greeted warmly by our new friend, but rather more dubiously by the rest of my little group. Turns out that he was a French student studying abroad in New York, and had undertaken the fairly lengthy journey from Clarkson University to Walmart on foot, but it had become dark before he could return. We ended up dropping him off at his dorm, after a 6 or 7 minute drive filled by polite if awkward conversation.

I bring this up not to demonstrate my kindly and outgoing nature (although it does work quite well on that account), but rather as a commentary of the times we live in. After dropping our new French friend off, my friends and I discussed what had just happened. Everyone else said they probably wouldn't have offered him a ride, and certainly not as quickly as I had, and in retrospect, I have no idea what prompted my prompt offer. In the not too distant past, someone could use hitchhiking as a very real way to get from point A to point B, even if point B was in Alaska. In 2009, I'm afraid, you generally wouldn't be able to get home from Walmart. I mean, the guy we picked up was waving at us in a parking lot, not the side of the road, and we barely offered him a 3 mile drive to his college. And he was notably harmless looking, boasting spectacles, a slight build, and a French accent. I'm certainly not advocating that we all start picking up hitchhikers by any stretch, but I just think it's all a bit sad.