BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

As promised, I am throwing together a few blogs about our adventures on vacation. Please make note that they won’t necessarily be in chronological order as far as the vacation itself went. They are actually in “transcribed jotted down note order,” which makes sense to me, but not really everyone else. At any rate, this is number four in the series…

In the movie Die Hard, John McClane (Bruce Willis) takes one look at the utter lunacy in the baggage claim area of LAX and with a resigned confusion, exclaims, “California…” (see the scene HERE)

This pretty much sets the tone for McClane’s view of the 31st state, that being that folks on the left coast aren’t right in the head. Obviously, having seen Die Hard more times than I can count, I’ve noticed this “bit” before. I’ve just never really taken it to heart. Then I went on vacation…

No, not to California. I’m not exactly sure they will let me into the state, to be honest, and after this blog post I think my chances will be even more slim.

You see, as you will recall, in Part Two of the Vacation Chronicles, Neither Does Murv… I mentioned the Horn Honkers. As it happens, the Horn Honkers were from California – Or, that’s what it said on their license plates, anyway, and their car definitely did NOT look like a rental.

Our first encounter with the Horn Honkers – the first one that sticks out in our minds, at least – occurred while we were waiting around on the side of the road for a glimpse of “das cinnamon bayer.” We had been waiting there for all of five minutes, maybe even less. With cameras and binoculars poised, we scanned the treeline below, searching for something big, furry, and wearing no pants – just a t-shirt and carrying a jar of honey.

However, before we had a chance to locate said creature, the roar of a car engine came from above. We turned to see the fancymobile, tagged with California plates, speeding around the curve – way too fast, I might add – then accelerating and racing toward us even way too faster. Dangerous kind of fast. At about 100 yards out, the horn began to blare.

A scant moment later the California Fancymobile slid to a halt on the turnout between our vehicle and someone who was parked up ahead of us. We all abandoned our quest for “cinnamon Pooh bayer.” Why? Well, initially we thought it was because someone was in distress and needed help immediately. We perceived that there must be some sort of emergency. After all, they had come down a narrow, “switchbacking” mountain road at a dangerous speed, blaring their horn. What else were we to think?

Seems, however, that we had misinterpreted their situation. Apparently we not only didn’t speak German (See Neither Does Murv…) we also didn’t speak California. The reason they were speeding down the mountain at a dangerous rate is that… Well… we still aren’t sure about that. The horn, though, we did figure out. Fact is, they did want to get our attention, but it was just so that we would “get the f*ck out of their way” because they were from California. We figured that out because before the car had even stopped skidding to a halt, their doors were open and they were jumping out, cameras in hand. Like cockroaches startled by a light, they proceeded to scurry back and forth, running between us, pointing their cameras – sometimes without even looking at what they were pointing them at – then snapping pictures. Thirty-seven point four seconds later, they were back in the California Fancymobile and slinging gravel as they literally peeled out of the turnout and sped off.

We all stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then wandered back to the Jeep and climbed in. We knew better than to believe Pooh would be hanging around after that little display…

And that would be the end of the story if it weren’t for the fact that for the rest of the day we played leapfrog with the F*ckin’ Californians. Well, it wasn’t so much leapfrog as just us meandering into their way, I guess.

Seriously.

We would be standing there admiring the view, waiting for wildlife, eating a sammich, taking a leak, whatever… Suddenly, out of nowhere the California Fancymobile would roar into view and come screeching into whatever parking area we were inhabiting. They didn’t always use their horn, but every single time, without fail, the two bald surfer dudes would jump out of the car, scurry around like they were running late for an appointment with an expensive hooker, and snap random pictures in a half-assed fashion.

But who am I to complain? Odds are they “saw” wayyyyyy more of Wyoming than we did. Still, all of our pictures were in focus. Not so sure about theirs…

More to come…

Murv

Continued From Food. It’s Not Really That Hard…

Kerchunk, kabloop, fribble, kerchunk, ecky-ptwang… (Gratuitous Wayback Machine noises)

Okay, here we are. If you are JUST NOW joining us, you have some catching up to do… Or should that be chasing forward? After all, this started in 2011 and now here we are in 2008 and… Well… Umm… Well anyway, should it be the case that you don’t know what’s going on here, go back… err… spring forward…  Oh hell, just go read the $750.00 Later… and Food. It’s Not Really That Hard… entries. Otherwise, you are going to be lost and the rest of us aren’t going to come looking for you. It wouldn’t do any good anyway, because I’m leading this expedition and obviously I’m lost myself…

Okay, everybody ready? Good. Here we go…

Way, way, wayyyyyyy back in 2008, I was booked to do the very first OstaraFest. Everything was cranking along just fine – in fact, I wasn’t even ill – but then, something changed. That being, my handler’s ability to feed me. My handler that year was Lolly. She was to see to it that I arrived where I needed to be, when I needed to be there, and that I had things like water, food, my shots, got let out to pee, got taken for a walk… you know, the standard handler stuff. Truth is, I’m a fairly easy guest author to get along with. However, I do need to be fed every now and then, even though I’m a fat guy.

Long story short, however, Lolly kept forgetting to feed me. She saw to it that I was where I needed to be, when I needed to be there, that’s for sure. She even made sure I had pens, a place to sit, an orderly line for the fans who wanted to get books signed… But food… Well, that just didn’t seem to work out.

Finally. Food. I really look like I'm wasting away, don't I?

Fast forward (because the Wayback Machine just takes too long) to 2010. I was scheduled for OstaraFest again. Lolly decided that if I was going to be fed she was going to have to hand me off to someone else – Therefore, Doug, her husband took over. For Doug, coffee and beer are food groups. This was perfectly fine with me. Apparently, it was NOT perfectly fine with Lolly. She made it a point to be photographed handing me a hotdog so that I could no longer say she hadn’t fed me. It was a good hotdog. Not as good as the beer, but hey, it was still good. (BTW – this was also the year I was introduced to Butch’s breakfasts, as Doug and I would make the trip over the river and through the woods in the opposite direction each morning in order to have breakfast at “Butch’s Home Diner”…) So I was really all set – a made to order breakfast that will keep you going all day, coffee, and BEER…

But as I said, Lolly didn’t see it that way…

Fast forward once again to OstaraFest 2011… After a full day on Saturday, where I did an address, a roundtable discussion, a seminar, signed 42 bazillion books, visited with folks, and was chased around the VFW Hall by “Bouncy Brandi” (remember her?), we all went out to dinner at “Old Chicago Pizzeria.”

For The Purpose Of Illustration Only: NOT ACTUAL Bouncy Brandi Hooker Shoes

Upon arrival, all eleven thousand and three of us gathered around a football field of tables. Somehow or another – I suspect by careful arrangement on her part – I was positioned directly across from “Bouncy Brandi”. After ordering, while we waited for the food, “BB” kept showing me pictures on her phone… Apparently she wanted me to know just exactly what was available to me for $750.00 – right down to the stack heeled, burgundy, Mary Jane hooker shoes she was planning to wear.

I have to admit, these were some pretty sharp shoes. Worth $750.00? I dunno… But they were definitely some hot lookin’ girl shoes.

So anyway, food arrived… Well… some of it. You see, everyone at the table received their food, except moi. Srsly. Eventually the server returned and asked if there was anything else we needed.

I said, “Ummm… My food?”

She went to check. Apparently it was still cooking, which is restaurant speak for “somebody f*cked up and we’re scrambling to put it together as fast as we can right now.”

All good. I was in no hurry. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen minutes passed. When it hit twenty-five minutes, Joyce excused herself from the table. A moment later, Mike, “Bouncy Brandi’s” husband, excused himself as well. I tried to get him to stay because I was really, really afraid of being left alone with that much perkiness sitting across from me.

Before long they returned. Seconds later, the server and the manager came rushing out the door with my dinner. For free. Then they gave me something like a quarter of a cheesecake. For free. And they bought me a drink. (yes, for free)… All the while they apologized profusely and gave Joyce and Mike a very wide berth. Apparently they had burned down a portion of the restaurant while explaining to the management that I was a world famous author who had been waiting for his food for 93 days, and that I would be killing them all in my next novel… Or something along that line. I never did hear the full story. I just saw the smoke, heard the screaming, and then ate my pizza.

The cheesecake? I gave it to Brandi, hoping to placate her and avoid the whole $750 thing… Well, that and the fact that Dave, who was sitting next to me, had looked over and said, “You know, after all the grief they just gave them, that’s probably a piece of sneezecake, not cheesecake.”

Of course, if that isn’t enough proof that Texas doesn’t want me to eat… well… it doesn’t end there.

However, for that, you need to tune in next time…

To Be CONCLUDED in The Girl, The Shoes, And The $750… coming 4/3/11…

More to come…

Murv