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Orin was pissed that his son had robbed him! He was livid at loosing his home and everything he held dear. He had gone to the police to report the theft, only to be told that there was nothing that they could do, due to his son being on his accounts and having Power of Attorney.  He had a pounding headache and knew that it was due to his high blood pressure. Which only got worse after talking with stupid people at Social Security and Health and Human Services. As he stood on the sidewalk he spotted a bar and he suddenly grew thirsty. He hadn't had a drink in over twenty years and come hell or high water he was going to have one now! 

That was a mistake of course. He should have stopped after the third. He didn't like the taste of beer and thought he could handle a couple of screwdrivers. He awoke to find himself in an airport terminal. He didn't recognize it and knew he wasn't in Colorado Springs. He sat up on the bench and felt something hard in his pocket. Pulling it out he saw a cell phone. He frowned, he didn't own one. HE had no clue how he ended up with it. And no idea how to work the damn thing in any event to try to find out who it did belong to. He shoved it back into his pocket and felt something else and pulled it out. A wad of paper, HE spent a moment unfurling it and noticed it was a couple of pieces. The first was a receipt for a cell phone. "Okay, so the damn thing is mine!" he said as he shook his head. The second was a ticket stub. He looked at it and spit as he said, " The Fuck?! Los Santos?! Ah hell no!" 

He stood on wobbly legs and slowly walked out of the airport. He was 74 years old. He had no idea how he was going to survive. He hadn't worked in 15 years. He was someplace new and that frightened him as much as where he was. "Hmm, I think I need drink!"

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