VA travels, NYE hype, and Carbon Monoxide 

VA travels, NYE hype, and Carbon Monoxide

Son of a gun. Seems like forever since I put down a real update here. Mercy. Most of the time since the last update was spent either in VA or on the road traveling. And since this is mostly usually about my TX adventures, I guess it’s alright that I haven’t written much lately. LOTS is going on, and lots has gone on. Here’s a bit of what went down in the last 3 weeks.

We had planned to head back to VA for the holidays on December 14. The day before we got a phone call from the antique store asking if we could work on the 14. We can always use money, so we said yeah, but we’d have to leave an hour early. That worked, so we packed up the Wonder Truck the night before and went in and worked our shift. We didn’t sell much. Some crzy lady came in and was totally manic and insane. She was ranting and raving about how she needed a bed frame b/c she’d just bought one but while driving home it flew off the back of her truck, and she went back and looked but couldn’t find it, and she thought about calling the store where she bought it and telling them it was their fault, but that the guy that had loaded it up had been “mentally handicapped” and she didn’t want to get him in trouble, so she was just going to buy a new bed, and she couldn’t believe someone would just take her bed that had fallen out of the truck, but that she hoped it went to a good home. Then she paused for air. So then she went on to talk more about the bed. And she showed me her fingernails which were painted strange colors and had numbers on them. She exclaimed proudly that her son was on the Wimberley football team. (The Wimberley high school team had just won States. Football is a HUGE deal in TX. Winning States is about as big as it gets. The whole town was in a tizzy for weeks). She told me that the Wimberley team had won the states. I knew this. Apparently her son was the running back, and she was very very very proud. And she felt the need to share this info with me. And then she talked more about football. And then she said that she could get a discount on a bed because her son had scored lots of touchdowns. Umm…ok. Then suddenly she had to leave. Just like that. She said she’d be back later, and that she wanted that discount because of her son’s mad football skills. Fortunately I wouldn’t be there when she returned. I’d be on my way to VA.

Truthfully, I wasn’t at all looking forward to going back to Charlottesville. We were going to get there early—around the 16th or 17th, and I wouldn’t be able to come back until the 27th. I was sure I’d be bored out of my mind. Sure, there were plenty of good reasons to go home---I was really looking forward to seeing all my friends and family. But I figured that could only last so long. TX has spoiled me. I had told The Bills and some other friends that we would have to catch a show while I was there. And I just took it for granted that there would be a show. Know what? There wasn’t one single show scheduled while I was home. Not one. In TX there are dozens of shows every single week. How quickly I forget that it’s not like that everywhere. I was determined to make the best of it though.

The first night we only drove to Dallas, and we stayed with some friends of the family. Then we got up at 6 and hit the road. For the trip home, I had prepared a deluxe bedroom suite in the back of the truck. Some time ago we had gotten a futon mattress to put in it. This would be our first opportunity to use it. I loaded up with all our stuff, but only put things on the sides. I used lots of pillows to cushion the truck. And I left most the mattress still accessible. Before we actually headed out, I crawled in the back and stretched out—to get a feel for it. The GUS got back there. It was a like a bedroom on wheels. It was nice. I was looking forward to using it. SO, when we left at 6 in the AM, the Gus and I crawled into the back of the truck to sleep for the first shift. And it was pretty fun, but it was really really cold. It was in the 30 that morning in Dallas. The back of the truck does not have heat. It was really cold. I covered every part of my body with the blanket, and even put some pillows on top of me. The Gus was shivering, and I couldn’t tell whether he was scared of the bedroom on wheels or just cold. It was probably both. I put him under the covers too. And it was great. All stretched out, sleeping some, resting lots. It was great. We stayed there for 3 hours until we had to stop for gas.

And we drove and drove. All the way to Kingsport TN to stay w/ Mary’s cousin. Along the way my sister called to say that my dad had told her that it was not safe to sleep in the back of a truck that has a camper. Apparently, according to him, the carbon monoxide would kill you. That sounded silly (although I had actually thought about it myself, and that I had slept perhaps a bit TOO good). But my dad makes up lots of stuff. Granted, he knows quite a bit about a lot of things, but he also makes up a lot. It was a sad day when I realized that my dad didn’t really know everything that he was talking about. As a child you just think that your parents do actually know everything. At some point, much later in life, I realized that at least 40% of the things that my dad stated as facts were actually not true. And it made me sad. But now I know. My sister—she’s younger than me by 3 years. And she still thinks that he knows everything that he says. So she’s worried. Not me. But when I get home I google it, and find a Carbon Monoxide consumer precaution type site. And it says that you should NEVER ride in the back of a truck that’s covered by a camper—that you can die by carbon monoxide poisoning. Huh. How bout that? Who knew? (Apparently my dad did). I’m still not convinced though. I’ll probably do it again at some point. It made the trip shorter. If I do it again, I’ll just open the windows.

So after a bit of a tumultuous time in TN and SWVA, I headed on to Cville. Perhaps one day I will write about the time in SWVA on the way down. Not now though. Mary doesn’t like it when I talk about it. It wasn’t the best time I ever had. We’ll leave it at that for now. In Cville I saw many many friends and had many many happy hours. It was great. I had a happy hour at Chilis, which was my main stomping ground in 1999 and 2000. We were there several times a week. One day maybe I’ll tell stories of there. We had some crzy times. And there was one waiter who was always there, and he was always great—hooking us up with deals and stuff. Dan. Dan the man. And when we walked into Chilis Dan was there again. It was totally bizarre. He said he had left for a while but come back. So had I. Charlottesville was really fun. One thing I didn’t expect, was that I saw many people who were devoted blog readers, which was very strange. I’d want to tell a story, but they already knew the story because I had written about it. So I’d have to preface every story with “do you know the story about..”, which was very bizarre, but cool. So this here is a little shout out to the handful of devoted blog readers that I have. You know who you are. Thanks for reading.

And the time in VA went by so quickly, and so painlessly that we actually stayed longer than I thought we would, or that I possibly could. By the end, I was definitely ready to come back, but I had a good time there, which is nice. We had to get back though. The Gus was actually pretty depressed in Cville, which was sad, but I was glad to see that he missed TX. He loves TX, which is cool, and actually makes sense. I’ve always said that me and Gus are like ET and Elliott. Back in the day, sometimes I’d feel sick and Gus would be lethargic. Or vice versa. Remember in ET when ET was dying, and Elliott got all sick too? Yup. That was cool. My old roommate ASS told me that I should never ever tell anyone about the ET/Elliott connection between me and Gus. But it’s true. So it makes sense that he loves TX too. He really missed the weather and the freedom and MK. MK missed the Gus too. On Christmas Eve he called to check on “The Gus Man”. One of our last days there, Gus was so bummed that I told him we’d be going to see MK soon. When he heard MK’s name he jumped up and ran to the door. Poor Augustus. So on December 30 mary packed up the car—the Baumer—and headed to SWVA. We were going to drive 2 cars back to TX. We figured having 2 cars out here would make a world of difference. It would also make for one really long drive back, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Some would say just sell the car and buy one down here, but we’d never get what the Baumer is worth. The Baumer has over 190,000 miles, and a good many dents, and the trunk leaks sometimes, and the lining to the windshield has fallen off. But it’s a Honda Accord, and I know the original owner. And it still gets over 35 mpg on the highway. And it has a cd player. Yes, I was looking fwd to having the Baumer with us in TX. But not looking fwd to the drive.

On New Years Eve, I loaded up the truck and the Gus and I started the journey home by driving back to SWVA to spend NYE with Mary’s family. I had no idea what to expect after the first debacle on the way down, but I went in with an open mind, and you know what—it was actually fun. Everyone was in a good mood, and there were lots of drinks, and we had a good time. Mary made us play this game called “Hot Seat”, which wasn’t a game at all. There were cards with questions on them, and the point was to basically just made you answer embarrassing and thought provoking questions. There were no winners and losers in the game. I like to play games to win. This was a sort of “get to know you” type game where everyone wins. Sort of like the WNBA. But not really. I was scared of the Hot Seat. When I was a kid, I remember when my mom one day came home with a new game that she wanted us to play. It was called the Ungame. We liked games, so we were up for it. It wasn’t a game either though. It was all about feelings and personal things. Apparently my mom had heard somewhere that it’d be a good way to connect with your kids. It wasn’t. It was awful. No one in my family likes to “open up” and share feelings with each other. The game was a disaster of monumental proportions. We never played it ever again, and would occasionally make fun of my mom for buying it. She still thinks it’d be a good game. Hot Seat was nothing like the Ungame though. Hot Seat was a game for adults, and had a lot more “Adult” questions. And by “adult” I mean sex question. But everyone was up for it, and we all drank up and played along. And we had lots of laughs, and it was actually pretty fun. But then people started getting drunk, and people got a little mad, but it was all funny. I seemed to anger people the most. Oops. One question someone asked me was who playing the game was most likely to embarrass you at a fancy restaurant. I picked mary’s redneck brother in law. He was out drinking and watching CMT at the moment. Everyone laughed. When he heard his name he wanted to know what was said. Nothing we said. “What” he said. What. What. So we told him. “I can’t hear you” he said. “I can’t hear you” he said again. And he said it again. And we laughed. And he flipped me off. For a brief moment I was scared he might shoot me, but the moment passed. Then I got a question that asked who—out of anyone in the world—I would like to be stranded on a desert island with. I of course asked if I could pick someone playing the game (aka Mary), and they said no, but at least I tried. So my drunken, hazy brain started spinning. This was an important question. A good answer was needed. People were staring, people were waiting. This was a crucial question, and I needed to make a decision. And I didn’t really have long to think of it. And did I mention I was drunk? I was worried I’d make a bad pick, and then the words just came out of my mouth.
My response to who I would like to be stuck on a desert island with: one of the Olson twins—the one with the eating disorder. Because she wouldn’t eat all my food, but would still be hot.

I thought it was genius. Most people agreed. Mary---not so much.

The game wound down after that, and we sang some karaoke. Unfortunately we sang so much karaoke that we lost track of time and Mary and his sister were still singing “waiting for tonight” as the ball dropped. When we turned off the karaoke, confetti was already flying, and it was over. We missed it. And it was stupid.

Which made me think about how much I typically hate New Years Eve. It’s expected that you will just pay way more than you usually do to get a hotel or eat out or go see a concert. A $10 concert will cost you $25 on NYE. A $40 hotel will cost you $90. And people buy into it. And it’s silly. And personally, I always feel a great deal of pressure to have a GREAT New years Eve. And almost always it doesn’t live up to the hype. And then I’m depressed. A couple years ago I realized that I don’t think I’d ever kissed someone when the ball dropped. That made me sad. Once, I specifically being with a girl that I was dating on NYE, but we were in Nevada, and in Nevada the ball drops at 9pm. And that doesn’t seem right. And we were with her parents. And I was asleep by midnight, so that didn’t count.

So mary and I have now been together for 2 new years eve’s now. And the first one the ball dropped and she was distracted and somewhere else and someone had to go find me and kiss me. That was sort of anticlimactic. And then this year, we missed the ball drop. It doesn’t get much more anticlimactic than that.

Whatever. The point is: I think I hate New Years Eve. It’s pretty stupid. It’s just another day. I didn’t make any resolutions. Resolutions are stupid—unless they’re god ones. Last year my sister’s resolution was to have more happy hours. That was the best resolution I ever heard. She wins. No resolutions for me, but this New Years Eve was actually really fun, even though we missed the ball drop.

We hit the road the next day—Mary driving the Baumer, and me driving the Wonder Truck with the Gus. I had tricked out the inside of the truck to make it a giant sized Gus bed. Blankets and cushions and pillows everywhere. He dug it. Sometimes he slept on the passenger seat, sometimes in the space in between the seats, and sometimes on the back seat. He liked the freedom of being able to just wander around. People said we would have to stop a lot for Gus to do his business. Shoot. The Gus holds his business longer than me. The Gus rocks.