If I Were A Hobo

If I were a Hobo, I’d be so cool. I’d ride on boxcars and eat beans out of tin cans. I’d probably make Hobo buddies and we’d pass each other at the local Hobo hot spots (like, rail yards and what not). I’d say, “Jeff, you still Hoboing?” Jeff would be all “Dude, totally am.” Then we’d chat for a bit and get back to Hobo business.

If I were a Hobo, sure, I’d drink. It’s the Hobo way, but I’d keep it classy. Maybe some Johnnie Walker Blue Label or something. I’d try to be a down to earth Hobo, but I’d stay a touch flashy so the other Hobos knew I had something special going on and that I’ve kinda got it all figured out. When, really, I ain’t got nutin’ figured out.

Oh, and Hobos have to use a lot of double negatives, too.

If I were a Hobo, I’d wear the usual Hobo garb. Tattered jeans, old shirt, worn out shoes. I’m still on the fence about the ball of clothing on the end of a stick, though. Something about that just doesn’t seem practical. Unless, of course, you’re in an area that has a lot of bears. Then I think they advise you to tie your belongings to sticks or something. I’d probably just find an old backpack or maybe a trashbag.

If I were a Hobo, I’d be real mysterious like. I’d answer people in one word responses and they’d be all like “woah, that Hobo is real mysterious, but he has the ingenuity to use a backpack instead of a stupid ball of clothing on a stick, so for that I respect him.” I’ll hear them say that as I walk away and I will be touched.

If I were a Hobo, I’d have to kill a guy. It’s another part of the Hobo code, I think. But don’t worry, I’ll just kill another Hobo. Some real crazy one I meet jumpin’ cars in the Midwest or something. Plus, it’s probably easier to be a Hobo if you’re running from something and I’d rather be running from the law than running my feelings, ya know?

If I were a Hobo, I’d probably hold parties for the other Hobos. Like the same day every year at a certain field in Iowa or something. And all year long the other Hobos will be talking about my party like “You going to Josh’s party this year?” And the other Hobo would say “Dude, you bet your shoes with the one toe poking out that I am.” That party will be awesome.

If I were a Hobo, I’d probably befriend an inanimate object. Kinda like Tom Hanks in “Castaway.” Not because I’d be lonely. I like the quiet. But mostly because if I don’t naturally lose my mind, I need to at least give the perception to the other Hobos that I have. If you walk around a rail yard with your high end whiskey and a fancy backpack, you better be talking to a box of potato flakes, because if not, you’re gonna get jumped.

But most importantly, if I were a Hobo, I would be the coolest, most kickass Hobo ever. I’d offer to talk to school kids about my journey (and I would sit outside schools all day until someone invited me in, too). I’d play cards. I’d get some of those Rosetta Stone DVD’s and learn a second language or something. I’d have so much free time that I could finally do with my life the things I couldn’t before. And for that reason, I hope that when I grow up, I become a Hobo.