The Smoking Alley: June 2008

So I write you with red sharpie marker covering my entire right foot and half of my shin. After my friend jokingly flipped me backwards in an office chair, I found it quite comfortable to have my feet dangling as I lay on my back... and subsequently drifted off to sleep. Judgment was leveled against me for my folly.

The road trip has been a relentless torrent of satisfaction so far. At Bonnaroo, Pearl Jam sufficiently rocked our collective faces off. And seeing a massive ocean of humanity holding up lighters as for the first verse of Betterman even made Eddie pause and say, "I just wanna say... this is fuckin beautiful." Classic. The best show though was My Morning Jacket. It started pouring down rain after their first couple songs. They had these eery, glowing orbs on both sides of the stage that were anchored to the ground and just floated all eerily n' shit in the wind. And at the climax of Gideon, they unloaded like ten big batches of glow sticks into the audience and everyone was throwing them in the air so it looked like glowing kernels of popcorn were popping around everywhere. Screaming, arms raised, staring into the rain -- pure joy.

Driving back into Houston, stayed at my buddy's place. Then at my girlfriend's in Dallas for a couple days, before the rest of the guys picked me up in the RV. True to form, we ended up having to take the RV in for two rounds of repairs to fix, among other things: broken headlights and brake lights, a side mirror duct taped into position, a corroded battery, a flashing airbag light, a broken bathroom faucet, and a broken generator. When we got into Phoenix (CruiseAmerica's headquarters), they said it was unexcusable and gave us a new RV plus a refund of like $600. So kinda worked out.

But we got into Boulder, stayed with one of Connor's friends, assumed the role of college drunks, learned a new drinking game ("Beer Die" as in "to roll a die" not "Romeo Must Die"), and remained generally slothful. Saw a Rockies game and my sister then onto Santa Fe - our first RV park. We're not sure, but we may or may not have emptied our sewage tank into the pipe where "gray water" was supposed to go... kinda like washing dishes with poopy water, but whatever. A lot of card playing, and a lot of grilling out, some stargazing on the side.

Onto the Grand Canyon, stayed in the RV park. Took one night hike to the rim of the canyon for sunset and sat there for a good hour with the wind whipping at our face. Then the next day, took a longer hike into the canyon, let out at a sweet overlook, took some panoramic pictures, avoided some mule poop, realized I was more winded than I probably should be. Leaving the park, we went through Sedona, saw the Matterhorn, on the way to Phoenix.

In Phoenix, mostly just partied in our RV, but one night my friend Trey was really antsy to "go out" and go to a bar, so we looked up a nearby bar and called a cab. The bar itself was like a more country version of Meier's Tavern, but the story of the night was the weirdo cabbie who picked us up. The guy looked like a fatter Lionel Ritchie with a Slovakian accent, dressed straight out of 1983, and drove an unmarked cab with no meter (flat rate of $19). He kept telling us that we should stay away from all the ugly Phoenix women with no teeth, and find some hot girls who would be willing to "share" back at the RV. "Maybe you guys can get a nice gang bang going on?" suggested the cabbie as he chuckled boisterously. The whole time, I couldn't tell who whether he was providing us with entertainment, or vice versa. Called him again for a ride back to the RV when he learned that Connor and Morris were from Texas, he divulged that his wife who had "stolen his son 15 years ago" lived in Austin and remembered that he had been meaning to go there and "kill that bitch." Did not detect much humor in the statement.

Now we are in San Diego (La Jolla) staying with Steve's 26 year-old cousin. Sweet place, great weather, crowded beach, sucky Padres game, great food, fun bars... I could get used to this. Except for the part about my feet looking like Hellboy the morning after.

Well we're headed to LA tonight. Apparently our RV park is "on the beachfront." I'm excited to see what their definition of "beachfront" is. Just thought I'd share some stories with you guys. Mike and Klatt, I'm excited for DC. Everybody else, I'm excited for whichever of the following happens first: Zach's wedding, a trip to the Dells organized by Goldberg, Charlie's first red carpet premiere, Evan's wedding, a thanksgiving break party at Dan Cowell's, a New Trier reunion at Tommy Nevin's, or Josh's coming out party. Love you guys.

As many times as you want, only once...
Sherman

Classic:

Lumberto is squatting in the backyard of several college kids. He lost his wife in a tragic lumberjacking accident (cut her in half, or in dos, through a tree trunk). The only reminder of his past love is the one tree in this backyard, where they had visited years ago and carved their initials. Now, Lumberto watches over the tree relentlessly.
The college kids are confused by the presence of this squatter character. They childishly chide him with insults and pranks and the like. They become perturbed as they realize he plans to remain there and as they realize his ungroomed social manners (watching people as they shower, j/o, eat, etc.).
Flashbacks reveal more about the Mexican lumberjack.
Tension builds between the two parties as neither can truly communicate their intentions. The slight language barrier (English/Spanglish) doesn't help the situation. The tension boils over when the tree is (accidentally/purposely?) cut down and Lumberto loses it. He goes on a killing spree at one of the boys' parties which may or may not be themed "living dead/murder."