Road trip with The Lizard King

I'm a back door man

Hey, all you people that tryin to sleep

I had a dream that night after the boat show. Twila and I were getting married at the bait shop lobby on Buffalo Spring Lake. Twila walked down the aisle in her cheer leading outfit to the tune of Back Door Man by The Doors. Don't ask me why, it's just a dream and it is one of my favorite songs. Maggie was my best man and Strut Strutters was the bridesmaid. The flower girls were Skye and the other Twilas on the Renegade cheering squad. Rex was the preacher conducting the service. He said, "you better pony up that ring."

Then I kissed Twila as Naomi was crying as Alex was screaming, "God damnit, this costs too musch."

I awoke in a sweat as Twila was asleep beside me. She looked peaceful. In fact, I just stared at her in awe. I have never seen her still until that moment and I could feel her security in my bed. I never wanted her in the deep way you want a woman until that moment. She had a grin on her face.

Even though the dream stopped when I awoke, the music never really left my brain. I muttered to myself.

"The men dont know, but the little girl understand."
I eat more chicken, than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah

So I'm sitting there at lunch with Chief as he is looking over the racing form and calling his bookie in Vegas to make a bet on race in Miami. What a country! Anyway, I am reciting the details of my dream to Chief. Chief minored in psychology when he was in college in the, "horse and buggy era", as he would have you believe.

He knew all this obscure shit about Immanuel Kant and Freud. It seemed to intertwine somehow with his analysis of the Tech Veer offense versus the full court press. The guy made sense on paper, but never in real life conversation, except to me of course. Chief liked to listen to me because I think my pathetic existence somehow exceeded his own in his mind. The Chief was competitive and he liked to win. But as his job was for so many years, he could tell you exactly why you lose and why you will continue to lose. Uplifting.

"So let me get this straight, you have already met her parents, she is sleeping in your bed every night, and you don't like the kind of person she is."

"You could say that."

"I just did. Jesus, this is like picking a quinella at Aqueduct in the rain. You just don't do it. No matter how hard the tip is or how much you believe it, YOU JUST DONT DO IT." Everything hard gets translated into gambling analogies.

"So I'm fucked then. I knew it."

"Wait a second Russ, this is the chick you want to change? Damn man, she changed you in 4 fucking days. She sleeps with football players, dresses like a whore, calls you out and EMBARRASSES YOU in public. This is complete and utter bullshit my friend. You know what your problem is, your pussy whipped. That's it man, once they got that they aint doin shit."

"So what do I do?"

After a long pause and stare, the Chief grins and says, "You have to ignore her. Just a few days and then she will be ripe for the picking my friend. RIPE! Trust me, I know women. I know women so well you don't even know how well I know women."

"But she lives nearby, hell it's in the next building over. She has a key. I'm screwed."

"No your not, no your not, no YOUR not!...I'll send you on assignment."

"Where?"

"Who gives a fuck where, just go get a story or something. Go to Vegas. DO Something other than be here, OKAY?" All roads of enlightenment lead to Vegas for Chief.

"Okay. But I will have to put off the Twila article until next month. That okay with you?"

"Russ, I'm thinking travel piece brother. That's what we need this month anyway. So I will see you in my office next Tuesday with a completed travel bullshit piece ready for editing and print, Okay?"

"Leaving now. One more thing, do I call her?"

"No, leave a message. But whatever you do, don't fucking call her man."

Out here we is Stoned
Immaculate.

The spirit road has many paths, but only the Volkswagen can forge the truest. I felt like John Wayne on my paint horse named Jetta. Maggie would play the role of Indian scout or Cookie in this one I reasoned. Open range and deep thinking inspired by the nothingness dotted with pump jacks and steel irrigation. I'm not exactly my generations Jack Karouac but I'm no hack either. I admit, I am just a cheap dime store tripe writer, I long since gave up becoming Hemingway. Those guys looked for trouble and that is what made them great. I avoided trouble and found it anyway, that must be the difference between mediocrity and successful discontent. At least I'm still alive, and maybe I might find my road and the sun that also rises as it falls.

Ill tell you about texas radio and the big beat

I listened to Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, Oasis, Coldplay, and Conway Twitty. I got bored with the CD changer and caught the tail end of a High School Baseball game between Reagan County and Crane. Crane won. Then I flipped over the dial to FM and caught a Classic Rock station in San Angelo. They play the Los Lonely Boys two hits every other song because those boys busted out the charts from there. I still do not know how far is heaven, but I have heard the question asked before. Maybe the answer lies with Ron. Ron's voice came over the airwaves a few times doing commercials for the likes of Shithole Ford in Shithole, Texas and Tractor Pull Extravaganzas at the Scurry County Convention Center. Wherever the fuck that is. Ron rules and can make anything sound cool to check out.


Wandering, wandering in hopeless night

I lost myself heading south somehow. It is easy to do, especially when Odessa is somehow involved. I skirted past the "Petroplex" and found myself free in the darkness with only the fluorescents to guide my horse. I didn't think I would avoid Twila by calling at the hour I did, but I missed her and found the recording instead.

South I thought, but not too far this time. I have been to Big Bend and it still leaves me feeling like the moon landing was a farce. I don't believe that it was, but if it were, Big Bend would have been a good place to fake it. I settled on Fort Stockton, then changed my mind to Balmorhea instead. I didn't have enough time to go back to the moon on this trip.

We pulled into the Balmorhea State Park about 2am. I pulled out my bedroll, watered the horse, and laid my pistol by my side should any posse try and jump me. I didn't really have a pistol, my only weapon was a Dell laptop. It shoots the straightest for me. I instantly fell asleep after Maggie offered to stand guard, like a good Indian guide, she can sleep with her eyes open and can hear whispers a mile away.

Out here in the perimeter there are no stars

The sleep didn't last long. I asked Maggie if she could sing in Spanish so I could pretend I was watching Telemundo. When I was in college and flunking Spanish at a record still unbroken at Texas Tech. I flunked the first year course 3 times. That was until I found out about bribery and the power of cheap alcohol to Teaching Assistants. I digressed, anyway I use to fall asleep to Telemundo broadcasts at night in bed thinking I would somehow absorb the language in my sleep. It still works to this day. The big breasted chicas dancing in my dreams. If only Twila was Spanish. I still can't get that image from the night before out of my head. I guess I ruined it.

Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused