3/6/11

The Wild Bunch 2011 (Part 1)

"Come and get it, you bastards." William Holden, The Wild Bunch

I took a wrong turn and I just kept going . . .

Hey

Well, Bill's back safely (it was touch and go there for a while) from his latest Spring Offensive south of the border which we'll get to momentarily but first to get to the mail bag and what Bill's been doing since.

Lot of people asking about my Mom, she went in for her heart doctor appointment the Friday I was in Guaymas, he scheduled her for a heart cath this past Monday, everything checked out okay, no new blockages, the stents still in place and working, he couldn't find any bad valves or fluid or reason for why the EKG and stress tests came back so much worse than usual- they're never good- recommended she see her lung doctor so now we're headed down that path. She tried to make a pot of coffee this morning- without the pot. So it goes.

Also LOTs of folks writing in about the photo of Ron on-site, "That really DOES look like a shark bite"- well, yeah- "but it's not like you not to tell the story." See, I would but the shark was under age. For those concerned Ron is feeling much better and healing nicely.

Joe got the photo I referenced last issue and will be able to run it this issue. It's fucking amazing, wait and see.

Talked to Sarah earlier today (Sunday), she had just landed in New Orleans, she and Rob went down for Mardi Gras. The father in me is not thrilled- New Orleans is not a safe city at the best of times- but I do hope she enjoys herself and has a very good time. Lots of good eats in that town. I wrote that an hour or so ago, she just called again so to come back and update she is having a great time, just finished a huge bowl of jambalaya which she said was superb, passing on the hurricanes- like her father she finds them far too sweet. Her hoped for new job fell through, so she's still at Border's (till it closes later this month).

Talked to Rachel three or four times since last NL- I know, when it rains it pours- most recently last night, she and her friend Paige are coming in (allegedly) Monday the 28th and staying till Friday the 1st. Bill's breath is not being held but if she does we'll have to do a mid-week MC. (Good gravy- now Rachel just called me. Says she told them at work today she needed time off to come home and they said okay. They told her to take it now cos they may be promoting her to manager soon. I told her if she waited till she was manager she could take off any damn time she pleased.)

Still at the scrapyard, our prices and therefor business still down. Like I give a shit.

Ronnie: I got me some cat food at the Dollar General the other night.
Bill: How'd it taste?
R: There you go smart talkin' again. It ain't for ME.

Turns out Festung Gibson has been overrun with stray cats, they're pissing all over his place- no, I don't blame them- even getting in his house through the doggie door he has for his Jack Russell. The cat food was to bait a trap he'd bought.

B: Doing any good?
R: So far I caught me 8 cats. And a possum.
B: Really?
R: Yep.
B: How'd they taste?
R: I ain't talkin' to you no more Rambo and do you know why?
B: I'm a smart talker?
R: Dang right you are. SMART TALKER.

If I'm a smart talker he's a dumb one, he came in Friday morning and said this- "Scotty done 'molished that 'destrian he hit with his Zookie." I just wanted to scream "Speak English you mush mouthed idiot," but in the interest of keeping the peace I held my smart talking tongue. What he was trying to relate was that his son- a Gibson through and through- was illegally riding his Suzuki four-wheeler through Marmet when he ran it up on the sidewalk and over somebody. Imagine that.

"This job is a gravy train with biscuit wheels." Willie Brooks, library security guard.

Can't really argue with old Willie at least when it comes to the Cross Lanes library. The Main library is a whole 'nother animal.

Started the library security guard thing last Monday. For work it's not bad. I hate- no, make that HATE- the damn rent a cop look, black pants, white guard-y looking shirt, punk ass looking badge- I look in the mirror and want to spit on myself for going over to the other side- but it's required. Fuck.

Worked Monday through Wednesday at the Main library "training", up there you have to walk rounds through all six floors (only four open to the public) and yes the stairs have been fucking murder on my knees, which is really no joke, they have a lot of trouble up there, much more than I expected, with drunks and druggies and homeless and just plain nuts, I had a run in with all four rolled in to one Wednesday.

This foul mouthed homeless nut creep came in Wednesday- they'd had to throw him out Monday after I left for talking shit to some guy in the bathroom- and started in on these two lesbians sitting at the computer terminals, one this huge knockered blond with "stripper" written all over her (who was typing a letter to a Federal judge trying to get her probation shortened I happened to see on her monitor when I intervened), and her husband who looked so much like Devon Maximus of Adrenaline X it was scary/funny, DM's not a bad looking guy but he makes for a rough looking female.

Harsh words were exchanged by both sides before Sharon, the other guard on duty, and I went over to toss Homeless Jimmy. Sharon tried to calm the offended lesbians "This dyke is about to punch your fucking lights out"- the dyke (hell, she was one) told Jimmy and she definitely looked like she could- while Bill showed Jimmy the door. He didn't want to go at first and by policy we can't touch them (unless we're touched first) so if someone refuses to leave we have to call the cops and have them do it. I convinced Jimmy it was in his best interest to leave (though I did get cautioned about using words like "asshole" and "dumbass motherfucker" out on the floor) but of course once he got outside he got brave and wanted to fight.

Sort of. In my experience guys who want to fight, fight, and guys who want to talk about it, talk about it. Jimmy wanted to talk about it. Loudly. And why is it when all these assholes want to show you how bad they are they break out all their Vanilla Ice moves? Please. He'd about wound down when Blondie comes out and mashes her huge fake tits into my back- of course she could have been standing three feet behind me and still done that- and leans over my shoulder to tell Jimmy the cops are on their way which winds him up again. Not that I cared at that point with about three stone of saline and flesh pressed between my shoulder blades. Jimmy rants on another thirty seconds or so then runs away down Capitol Street about a minute before the cops show up. I pointed them in his direction and hopefully they caught him and shot him and threw him in a ditch.

Cross Lanes on the other hand . . . in two days there all the action I've seen is twice having to tell kids to turn their music down. I don't thnk it's very sporting how the library is expected to baby sit the same 12-15 kids every afternoon, some of them till closing at 8 pm if you can believe it, but as long as they're not tearing up the place it's none of my business. And to prove the Devil wants Bill for a sunbeam, what do I hear Friday afternoon? "Hey, there's Cooper's DAD! Hi, Cooper's Dad!" And she comes runnning up to me like she's going to throw herself at me. She wanted to know how Cooper's doing and why she doesn't see me walking him anymore- because I PLAN it that way I almost shouted- and a lot of other stuff I didn't catch mostly cos "Don't Stand So Close To Me" was playing at volume in my head.

Working at the library has its advantages, I see all the new books as soon as they hit the shelves- sometimes sooner- and my first day I checked out 21. So far I've read a thick collection of Loren D. Estelman's noir short fiction about private eye Amos Walker (good, but repetitive in large doses), a Walker novel, the short collection Moscow Noir, a book about the making of Night of the Living Dead, a Brit mystery titled London Calling and also, coincidentally, a different book about the recording of the album, and lastly the new Vampire Earth novel (as said before you should really check out this series, Chris). The new Destroymen novel is also out, I plan on reading it tomorrow while I'm being paid to not weigh scrap.

Thing is selling satisfactorily, no official reviews in though I'm hearing good things about it in person, one thing I'm hearing which I like is, same as Monster, everyone seems to have a different favorite story. And the winner in the coolest title contest by a surprsing (to me) margin was Nightmare In Gray. Only one other person seconded Bill's pick, The Fall of the House of Stars. And the comic adaptation of "Hunters" is finished and looks fucking great.

What's Bill been doing since his return?

Picked up a nasty cough somewhere in my travels but it's behind me now, went to CL Cold Spot Wednesday night with Rosa and Mark, drank a couple pitchers of Bass Ale on Mark's tab, had a MC at Ron's this past Friday, drank five Tecate and one of Ron's IPA's I forget the name of, smoked a cigar out on his deck, good time.

And so we come to the Wild Bunch, 2011. First off, if you ever consider driving non-stop from Charleston, WV to Tucson, AZ take my advice and don't. Seriously. Don't.

We left here around 5 pm Monday, me and Shane Storm and Jason Kincaid, picked up Juggz in Ashland (shame he doesn't live closer he'd be a fun guy to hang out with) and we were, pardon the expression, off. Joe had printed out a number of different directions for me, all of them totalled to within a few miles of one another, I decided to take the one that looked like it went in the straightest line.

I drove till midnight when I switched off with Jason. I was pretty fucking tired not having slept well at all the night before- knees have just been fucking awful lately and I'm all out of pain meds. Was dozing around 2 am when everyone discussing where the hell we were woke me up. We were at a stop sign on a two lane way the fuck in the middle of nowhere at the very western tip of Kentucky, lost as fuck. A car pulls up behind us at the sign so we pull on out, he tail gates us for about a mile and then flips his blue lights on. A cop. Good, maybe we can get some directions. What happened next was truly surreal.

He walks up to our car and taps on my window- I'm in the back seat on the driver's side.

Cop: Sir, can I see your driver's license?
Bill: Mine?
C: You're driving aren't you?
B: Uhm, no.
C: You're not?

I take a closer look at him. This small town Kentucky cop is completely serious. He's also buzzed out of his fucking mind.

B: No . . . we usually let the guy with the steering wheel drive.

I point to Jason in the front seat.

C: He's driving?
B: Yes sir.
C: Let me see his license then.

He stays at my window though so Jason has to pass his license back. He asks what we're doing and I explain we're wrestlers on our way to Arizona and we're lost.

C: Wrestlers?
B: Yep.
C: Fer real?
B: Fer real.

He points at Shane Storm.

C: Him too?
B: Him too.

He then turns and repeats our conversation to his empty police car- "These boys are wrestlers and they're lost and . . ". It was funny as hell but also a little scary- this demeted fucker had a gun. He then shivers violently a few times and complains about how cold it was (it wasn't). He then gives us amazingly accurate directions on how to get across the river to Cairo- which he pronounced like the syrup- Illinois (we went eight blocks through town before hitting the Interstate and saw one- one- business that wasn't boarded up, Cairo makes Welch look like fucking Manhattan) and we got the hell out of there.

Drove all through the next day, breakfast in Tulsa (Bill's first appearence in Oklahoma though I've sung it a time or two, mostly when drunk), an hour or so past Amarillo where we had lunch (I wanted to take the 72 oz. steak challenge but everyone else was too tired), still in Texas, a Texas cop pulls up beside us, apparently doesn't like Juggz tattooed skinhead look behind the wheel and pulls us over. First thing he asked without even saying why he stopped us was my permission to search the car which I denied him (Cop: Did you say no? Bill: I said no. C: Really? B: Really.) then asked what we were doing and when told we were wrestlers on our way to Arizona pointed at Shane Storm and asked "Him too?" which three of us found funny as hell, then kept us there about twenty minutes running my and Juggz info, kept Juggz in his vehicle most of that time then sent us on our way. Never did say why he pulled us over. Prick. I know why.

We stop in Socorro, NM for dinner (my first time in that state as well), Bill back driving, pull in at a Burger King (their call) but Bill sees a brew pub next door and says "I'll be in there, come get me when you're done" but they all decide that a beer or two sounds good to them as well and it was a very good call on Bill's part. They all got these great pizzas and a beer, Bill got a sampler of all their beers (a watery something that sucked, an okay lager, a very good IPA- Pick Axe, a decent red and a very good stout). Bill then drank three pints of the IPA and we all got back on the road- 28 plus hours and counting by that point- much refreshed.

Bill still driving, through the New Mexico desert at night, full moon, just a fucking gorgeous sight, that's the kind of drive when you need a cooler of beer in the front seat and a good looking woman by your side opening them for you when she's not busy nibbling on your ear and playing with your dick, not three numbfuck wrestlers all head down pecking at their phone things texting and updating their facebook and horse shit like that. Maybe next time.

By about 10 pm, still in NM, they're all sound asleep and Bill is about played out himself so we stop in Deming NM and get a room that looks like the set of a 70's porn film, sort of a suite thing with three beds and a couch for $48 total and sleep like guys that have been in a car since five the previous evening.

Get up around 9 (11 to our EST systems), eat at the Denny's in Lordsburg NM (lousy service so why we stopped on our way back I can't tell you), stopped and blew a dollar each to see THE THING somewhere in AZ, this fake ape faced mummy beezus- don't bother- and rolled into Alfonso's about 1 pm. He greets me like we're old pals which was very sweet of him, shows us some clips of his film with Jake the Snake in it- Jake was very impressive- gives me a key to his house and heads off to work.

We go get some beer for later at the Wal-Mart, I get 12 Tecate red, we take them back to Alfonso's and then we go up the road for lunch to this pub- Kappy's- that was recommended to us by this nice looking real estate agent I chatted up in the Wal-Mart. Tucson is a big town that doesn't feel like a big town, it's more like one giant Route 60. Kappy's had both Bass and Guiness on tap- good for them- so I had three black and tans for lunch, the other guys got burgers they said were ace and a beer each, can't remember what but it was something good.

Back to Alfonso's, his 20 year old nephew who now lives with him was there then, home from his job at the bakery, sweet natured kid but one of those "Wow, dude" stoners who wear thin with me pretty quick. Offered to share his dope with us, Blue Dream which he promised was a killer buzz but as I didn't want to go through customs with a shirt in my bag that smelled of pot I politely declined and the others wisely followed my lead. We all drank our beer- I gave Shane Storm two of my Tecate- then being bored we went back to Kappy's to close it down.

Don't remember how many black and tans I drank during the evening session but I do know one of them was on Juggz who bet me I wouldn't take this hula hoop down off the wall and hula hoop there in the bar.

(HAD THE MAN JUST MET YOU?)

Really. Free beer is free beer.

Slept- not well, even drunk as I was- on a partially inflated air mattress on Alfonso's floor next to Shane Storm. I felt a little rough the next morning so I passed on breakfast at this neat little diner Alfonso took us to. Wish my stomach had been in better shape cos I would have liked to try the chicken liver omelet- chicken livers, grilled onions, sour cream. Not that it sounded that great but holy shit, where else you going to get one?

Alfonso dropped us off at the bus station- I left my car at his place- and we caught the 12:30 bus to Guaymas, much less crowded than the one Danny and I caught last year, we all got window seats at the back of the bus (best ones for sleeping). No problems with customs at the border, told the TSA folks- a guy and a girl- we were wrestlers on our way to Guaymas, Shane Storm beat them to the punch by going "Yes, me too!". Got stopped by Mexican customs about 30 miles south of the border and Shane Storm and I were hassled, not for the last time, over the belts in our bags, had to unpack- they were on the bottom of course- to prove they really were belts and not WMDs. Remember this.

In between naps I read a copy of the first Vampire Hunter D novel translated from the Japanese that I picked up for three bucks- SSSLB- figured it would get me in the mood for lucha wrestling and I was right. Pulled into Guaymas around 8:00 pm (it's now Thursday) and that seems like a good spot to break for the evening. Haven't had a chance since I've been back to get pounded solo here at the house- as much as I like drinking with my friends I still need that drinking time to myself to decompress- till yesterday, went through 19 Yuengling and 3 big LaBatt's from 3 pm till midnight then had to get up this morning at 8 to take that miserable dog out and wasn't able to get back to sleep, so even though it's criminally early I'm tired and headache-y and unable to do justice to the Mexico portion of the trip. I'll get to it later this week though.

Really.

Later

Bill