Installment #8

Howdy all from Flagstaff, Arizona, my old college town!!! I just got here this morning with Peter and James, my two travelling companions I've picked up since you've last heard from me. I have a lot to say and my thoughts are jumbled so strap in for ten minutes, put your work aside, don't answer the phone and join me in remember from Oklahoma City.....

I took a bus back to Wichita Falls and met up with some one and caught a ride to Fort Worth. The small highway leading there was nice and we passed through many small towns and stopped at one called Lake Worth, within view of the downtown buildings of Fort Worth. The motel was in all right shape but the carpet pattern was one for the ages. Different coats of arms in all colors of the rainbow in continuing patterns of four shrouded the room and somehow it matched with the other disgusting decor. We went out. We ate at a Mexican place that had the most patronizing waitress I've ever seen, going through the motions like the worse fake orgasm I've ever heard (of). The whole town lives along Highway 199 and there were three bars there, all the size of apartments practically. The first one was, damn, I can't remember it's name but it was a bar that you could happily miss and that seems to be why I can't remember it. I do remember a strange looking dude buying my friend and I green tequila jello shots for no reason but I don't think it was out of pure generosity but then again, I can't prove it. The bartender seemed distressed that we were leaving to check out another bar but we told her we'd be back. The next bar was called The Wrangler, a small white building that had a business sign near the door no bigger than two license plates put together . Inside were Tammy and Marvin, two individuals who I will never forget. I won't divulge too much because they have already made it into a story I'm planning on writing but the skinny is as such: Tammy and Marvin used to date and now Tammy is getting married on January 1st to some other guy but they spent the whole time talking about things they used to do, and girls that Marvin used to take back to his cabin on the lake. This went on and on, including Tammy showing us how she earns twenty dollars every Saturday. Apparently there is a regular that comes in and she opens up her shirt and he tries to throw a twenty into the cleavage, she gets to keep it either way. Marvin was frustrated with me because I wasn't aware of some waste treatment plant in Santa Monica because he laid some pipe underneath it ten years back when he used to live there. I told him I was sorry I didn't know of the waste treatment place and we left shortly thereafter. By the way, we were the only four people in the place and Tammy was the only person who worked, 13-15 hours a day. The next and final bar was called the Buggy Wheel and I liked it immediately. There were eight people inside and they were in a small circle. Two of them were playing music, a guitar and a violin playing old country music like Merle Haggard, and Don Williams and others I didn't know. The vibe was very local and friendly. In the middle of one of the songs, two policemen came in and waited until the song was over and then they said they were looking for someone but he wasn't there and they politely left. We left right after them. The next day we drove down into Fort Worth, had some Mexican food, I did a little research on Mexico and then I took the 3pm bus to Austin. Somewhere near dark this was what I was thinking...

"I am sitting on a bouncing bus, in the mostly blue twilight of a Texas evening having reflective thoughts. Of people I met that I never wrote of, of connections not made, of the things that did not happen. How else could I have made certain peculiarities happen? I couldn't have gone through the last two months any better. Things occurred, crazy combinations of folks, undeniable conversations, drunken kisses in a bar or two. It is hard to describe my feelings. Mostly I am tired and weary, but full of the life I've been living."

My bags did not arrive with me in Austin, in fact they didn't come until the next morning. I stayed in a very nice part of town in Austin called Tarrytown with some relatives who were nice enough to put me up. My first morning, I went for a jog and then got ahold of James, the Australian I had first met in Savannah, Georgia. He said he would be in Austin around the same time and I might be able to catch a ride with him sometime west. We met at the Tower at UT, a large building that gave me college flashbacks, groups with banners with their religious or fraternal affiliations, the college radio staion passing out stickers and blaring their frequency into the square. It was nice and eventually I saw James. It had been like no time had passed, and we walked off in search of lunch. I bought a new bead and we were told of a good Mexican Restaurant called Trudy's, but not before many of the university students recommended Wendy's, McDonald's, and other fast foods that we both disapproved of. He asked me why do so many Americans eat fast food and I didn't have an answer. In search of a good milkshake for James, we were led in the direction of a place called the Spiderhouse, easily one of the most eclectic looking places I've seen yet. Here was my "of the moment" description":

"a coffee/veggie/shake house, eclectic as things go, an old fireplace, old family and war photos, old books, a radio, hodgepodge of customers, a grumpy guy working on necklaces and out on the patio, it's open with rusty chairs, no more than a pair the same, Christmas lights hanging from the building to a nearby tree. People studying, reading, laughing with friends as new wave 50's music plays."

Then James was in search of a belt knife, something I wasn't even sure what it was until he described it. We spent the better part of an afternoon walking blocks and blocks through military shops, gun shops, everything but nothing until we found out they were illegal in this country, something I had suspected all along. The most amazing thing was walking along the drag at UT, with the loads of unshowered punks and hippies, asking for change, or just mulling about. People played music, there was a guy playing a fiddle sitting on a telephone box...it was strange. I had a dream that night of marrying Farrah Fawcett (maybe I have a thing for blondes) and after the ceremony, while our friends were eating and drinking, she told me she was going off to Italy and didn't exactly invite, I was crushed but then I woke up. James and I met again at the tower and this time we found a good barbecue place called Bongo Barbecue. The food was good and cheap and we wandered Austin for hours coming upon a couple of bookstores that were shitty and then a bakery that was quite nice. I had a Rasberry Kolache, a sweet bread with a rasberry filling, sort of. It was good. We took the 'Dillo, a form of local transportation and then parted ways for the night. I met up with a guy I had met in LA while bussing tables one night and we met at the Club Deville. It was a cool club and the outside area was the best. It was lined with a limestone cliff all around and there were Christmas lights and other weird lighting in the four or five trees there to give it a good feel. We went off into the Infamous Sixth Street of Austin and here's what we found. Cheers Shot Bar, dollar mixed drinks, we went in for a quick drink and met a couple of girls that followed us around to the next place, called 311 Club. There was a great cover band there, playing Janis, Sly and the Family Stone, Aretha, Marvin, it was great. After that we went to an Irish Pub off of Fourth Street called Fado. It was nice and in the middle of my buzz I heard Otis Redding playing an could not help myself, I grabbed one of the girls and we danced inside closer to the music. "They call me Mr. Pitiful, that's how I got my name...", wow what a great song. The night ended quickly after that, us going our separate ways and it wasn't until noon that I left the house again, this time for lunch with Raul, the guy I met in LA, and we ate at a small place called Jamie's Spanish Village. We met the two girls from the night before there for lunch and outside there was a marquee stating "Yes, Jamie is still alive!!". We parted ways after that and then we went to a bookstore and before you know it, it's dark and I'm having a mellow meal with the people I'm staying with and then off to bed early. I was leaving the next morning with James and some mystery guy from Denmark for out west.

I arrived at the hostel at 8am and we left by nine, and we lost by 9:30. The 290 west was a nice road, taking us through small towns and eventually we hit the 10 Freeway, the same road that is less than two miles from my house in Los Angeles. Our goal was El Paso but James' car, while safe did not have lights so all of our driving would have to be during the day. We had lunch in Ozona, a town I was glad to see because I had seen a movie called Outside Ozona and was curious to see how it really was. It was the best hamburger I've ever had, fresh ground beef, cheddar and jalapenos. There were huge elk heads on the walls and James got into a conversation with a few hunters, asking them about guns and wildlife. I talked Peter into getting the Chicken Fried Steak and it was the biggest thing I'd ever seen. After Ozona, we headed out on the open, and I mean open highway, trying to get as far as we could before dark (James' lights don't work worth squat). We passed Fort Stockton and chose to continue on, barely making it to a small town called Van Horn at dusk. We were forced to stop at the first motel because we couldn't see anymore and the room turned out to be great, three beds and a tv and cheaper than the hostel. We got some Mexican food and then stopped by the two bars within walking distance to catch a vibe of the "town." One bar was called Gilbert's Lounge and was filled with Mexican cowboys, and I think James, Peter and I were nearly the only ones not wearing cowboy hats. We quickly moved on to a place called Ruby's Bar. Ironically enough, it turns out that Ruby was featured in a Texas Monthly magazine article just a few months earlier. The irony lies in the fact that I had been staying with people in Austin and the woman WORKS at Texas Monthly, a crazy coincidenence no doubt(Thanks Cathy, had a wonderful stay). In the morning we were off with three hot chocolates headed for the city of El Paso and the wondrous frontier of a Mexican border town, Ciudade Juarez. El Paso, after being lost for a half hour was dead, to put it politely. That town hasn't sneezed in a decade and we threw our stuff in the historic Gardner hotel and hostel and headed for the border. This is where it gets interesting and here were my thoughts after I got a chance to sit down...

"Across the border, it's chaos. It is touristy and dirty, the worst combination. A dog stood atop a bar, a father and son played trumpet and drums in the street while another child wandered with a hat turned up for tips. We searched for and found the Mercado. It is packed with souvenirs, ponchos and people who were born to sell "shit". The streets are haphazard with cars and traffic and dirt and pedestrians. The traffic is immense, and moves slower than a man walks. Here outside the mercado are restaurants, and people trying to force you into their restaurant. A guy, a musician who played violin who I had a picture with, was standing near us playing an hour later with a small mariachi band. Three women work in the kitchen where we are eating, all are wearing red shirts under their aprons. Down the long hall is pink and orange, and the foods are written in bright colors. Without the dirt or obvious impoverishment, it looks festive here "al Mercado". We are eating at El Mexicanito, the restaurant furthest from the Avenida de Septiembre. The burrito is good, the salsa verde burns my mouth. We are one mile from the United States and the world was stopped smiling. Or rather, its smile cannot be felt here. We are talking about the Danish army. "We don't need one," Peter says. "I picked a free one," he says in reference to the country's armed lottery draft. The buildings are bright like Victorian homes but there must be no Public Works office. The streets and sidewalks are in bad shape, and there are open holes two and three feet deep! Some are covered by 2 X 4's but do not cover the hole, they merely bring attention to it. Four burritos and 3 sodas came to $7.25!!"

We continued on, looking for culture and it was everywhere. There was a band playing in a square and people selling jewelry and political propogandist books. We met some young people who were on exchange here in Juarez from down deeper south in Mexico and they were selling little roses in glass vials. They explained the colorfully dressed, darker skinner folks who were sitting around. One, in her spanish explained they they danced for the Virgin Guadalupe and it was a big deal. We moved on, with them, past the newer market and to the large Church. The gathering was incredible, the area completely packed. I had some great pictures taken with me and these intricate head dresses while the Mexican wore my LA hat, I hope they turn out. We parted ways with the young people and said we would try and meet around ten. Peter, James and I moved into the new Mercado and it was packed like nothing I've seen. It must be a pickpockets haven, with shops selling belts, food, shirts, toys and all sorts of things. We turned a street which gave more room but was just an offshoot of the main market. There there were bars lined up like tract homes (ragged and dirty white-walled tract homes) and we even saw some prostitutes mulling outside these places. Mind you, this is as people are shopping for socks and gum and candy for fruit with their kids in broad daylight!! We made it around and back to the church again, and this time I wanted to walk in and did. It was incredible as Catholic churches go and there was barely room for me to stand in the doorway. We left the church area again and walked aimlessly through the streets near dusk. Here are some random thoughts and things I saw:

"Shoe shiners, babies carried with blankets covering their heads, Christmas things sold. The ceilings are low hanging and people are shorter here. A woman sells socks, and many guys wear sports-related clothing. Down another quieter street, there is an auction going on. Not all the lights on the lampposts are there, guy carrying white bucket of hot corn, bus seats face inward, cop smiling, hand on gun, everybody carries bags, guy selling screwdrivers on the street, guy sitting with handcuffs. By this time is was dark and James went back to buy a "jorongo", which us gringos call Ponchos. He eventually got a good price and then the store owner left for a bit to show us where a bar called the Intermezzo was. It had NO sign and was completely white building. He said if we bought beers there would be free food and so we each did a tequila shot and had a Dos Equis, all for the low low price of $9.00!!! An hour later they served up steak, guacamole and tortillas that the owner, a beautiful Mexicana cooked up on the grill outside the place herself. We had achieved buzz status and were curious about meeting women. Everyone told us that our best bet were the strip clubs. I wasn't really into it but then I remembered that it would be such an interesting experience. We hit a couple of bars to check out the scene and then headed back down near the main street where we met Maurice. He seemed friendly enough and had pretty good English and said he'd show us where the girls were. Sure enough we were at a dingy dark strip club eight minutes later. The girls were not attractive or even interested in their jobs and we left and Maurice took us to another one. This one was better in terms of quality but less packed. By then, the local soccer match had started and the only guys in the place were watching soccer more than the girls. A couple of girls came up to us and wanted us to buy them beers but we weren't having it, and, as Maurice is finishing his air guitar to Scorpion's Rock You Like A Hurricane, we left for his restaurant where it was his turn to buy a round. It was closed when we got there and so we went next store. Mauric ordered four beers very quickly and then told us how they cost. We kind of said, "So," and then he informed us that we had to pay for them. We asked him when HE was going to pay for a round and he said the next place. James, who was by far the most sober of the group made an off hand comment to the effect that Maurice wasn't planning on buying any drinks at all. To this Maurice got angry, in his eyes and slowly gritted teeth. When James casually heckled him again as Peter and I sat with our beers barely touched, Maurice, in a show to prove his "loyalty" to us, dumps out two of the beers into a metal container next to the table we were at!! He was pissed and with that, the three of us looked at each other, I coughed up a few dollars for the beers, Peter and I hammered them and left, deciding it was time to leave this god forsaken place. The border crossing was without event except that in our momentary walk by the church to see if the young students from earlier in the day were there, we saw Maurice drunk and belligerent but he didn't see us.

Phew....

We got up the next morning and headed for Flagstaff. We had no idea where we would stop for the night but knew it would be before dark. It was a nice windy road that led us through some beautiful and desolate scenery, long yellow fields and blue sky, all flat. We owned the road for ten and fifteen minutes at a time and we made it to Silver City for lunch. Bought a new bead there and continued on. Stopped in Cliff, New Mexico to mail a package. The post office was manned by one person, a nice woman who had lived in the area her whole life. Somewhere in between there was a border patrol stop. James wasn't really paying attention and he sort of blew past it a bit and they yelled at us and we stopped 20 feet past it. They asked for their passports and asked us if we had anything in the trunk. James for some reason said no but the guy believed us. It didn't matter, we didn't have "anything" in the back but we did have our huge three packs in there. We had an interesting laugh at through through the changing hills and rocks and pinks cliffs and brown canyons and pine trees. We made it to Springerville before dark and had the best and funniest fiasco as we only had two queen beds and a pull-out. Somehow Peter let me be a little bastard and take the big bed, only for him to climb into James' bed when he declared we were freezing. We had a fun talk at three in the morning about whatever three people who have just met and are connected by experience talk about. You wish you were there. We left the next morning and without much incident pulled into Flagstaff for lunch...........

whew...sorry that one was so long, it was a while since my last INSTALLMENT, but AS ALWAYS, please write someone on the list, tell them happy holidays and maybe how you met me or something, ya know??? Happy holidays all, Ravi's been doing a great job keeping the webpage up and please know that in January or February there will be some new stories added to the webpage so keep an eye out...please check it out anyways and sign my guestbook, it makes me feel good.....

www.geocities.com/jasonconga peace all, life is good, I look forward to my bed and my friends and a semblance of order but I'm curious how the working world will treat me...the next INSTALLMENT will be from Los Angeles as I will be home on the 14th......

adios Jason