‘A hole in the ground can garner a great deal of suspicion. Rightfully so- that’s where a great deal of us will end up when we die. But the uncomfortable presence of a hole in the ground is not in question, here. Rather, it’s the ease at which one might make a hole in the ground seem less suspicious- friendly even- that pertains to ‘The Universal Charging Station’ in Mississippi.
A grate, for instance, makes a hole more palatable. A manhole cover takes a whole and makes it reassuring- necessary, even. A few orange cones, a flutter of police tape: these indicate the bare minimum, that a hole has been reported and that necessary actions are being taken to deal with it. A hole in the ground with a house on top is just a basement. A hole full of water is just a well. A hole in a face, wet with teeth and tongue, is just a mouth. It doesn’t take much to make a hole friendly.
But ‘The Universal Charging Station’ makes no attempt.’
It isn’t hard to see what the guide is talking about. ‘The Universal Charging Station’ is essentially a hole in the ground made more conspicuous by the large, metal pole encompassing and sticking up out of it, twisted off so tightly that it comes to a jagged point. There is a hole in one side where someone has helpfully scrawled “charge here.”
Like others before me, I examine the pole with care. I tap it, in case the entire thing is electrified, and I tap it again to test the depth of the hollow. Once I have made sure the thing is benign, offering up my skin before my precious phone, I unwind my charging cable from its careful curl and lower one end into the pole.
A car passes on the interstate, its wake blowing through my clothes and kicking up dust. When I clear my eyes I see: the phone is charging. The cord hangs loosely in the pole, clanging against either side, but it’s drawing a charge from somewhere all the same.
Amazing.
My phone is at 5% and the lighter-port in the camper is broken, so I decide to stay for a while. I barely make it to 20% before the unlit stretch of interstate, before the quiet, is too much. I’ve always needed an excuse to talk to myself: a stuffed animal, an imaginary friend, an old rabbit. Now I have nobody and I’ve lost my voice.
-traveler
