The phrase in a pickle means to be in a tough spot. Tell us about a time you have been in a real pickle. I was 20 years old, and I was single and pregnant. And when I told my parents, they kicked me out of the house. They put me on a bus to my brother’s house. And there was a transfer from one bus to another, and I lost my transfer ticket. And I was in a pickle, and I didn’t know what to do. So I started hitchhiking. Now mind you, I’m five months pregnant. I’m in the middle of nowhere in North Carolina where my brother lived. But I had to get from one end of North Carolina to the other.
There’s some really gross people out there. Men who would pick me up for sex in the car to give me a ride. One man offered to buy me a hamburger if I gave him a sexual favors. I was starving, and that — I just couldn’t, I just couldn’t do some of the things that these men were asking me to do just to get across the state. So I climbed over the embankment, and I came down in a town. I didn’t even know the town’s name. It was Charlotte, North Carolina, I found out later. But I saw this green, luscious grass, and I went over to it there was like a little hillside incline. Just a little one, and I laid down on that incline, and I fell sound asleep, middle of the day.
When I woke up there was three women surrounding me, asking me if I was alright. And then a cop showed up and asked me, you know, who I was, and what I was doing there, and why I was there. And the ladies had talked to the cop and pretty soon the cop left. And the ladies said they would take me home, give me a hot meal, listen to my story, and they did. I told them my story. They asked me why I didn’t abort the baby, and I’m a firm believer in choice. But for me, it wasn’t the right choice.
So I maintained the pregnancy as best I could, I was in a real pickle. I hadn’t eaten in five days. My brother didn’t know where I was, I was somewhere in North Carolina. And I went to the ladies’ house, and I took a shower. They washed my clothes. They gave me a pair of shoes. I was wearing Dr. Scholl’s, the wooden clogs that they had back then in the 80s. Dr. Scholl’s wooden clogs is what I had on my feet, and my feet were tore up. They gave me a pair of shoes, and they were kind to me. They bought me a ticket on the Greyhound to go to my brother’s house. Gave me a book and a bag of snacks for the ride and sent me on my way. I was in a real pickle, and I guess angels like pickles because they got me out of one.