Saturday, October 19, 2013
Where in the World Is Wylie O'Rylie...Adventure 1...Act 2
I woke up the morning after
St. Patrick’s Day…my mind was usurped with fragrant memories of a distant past, different world. For fifteen long weird, strange, and nostalgic seconds…I was stuck on stupid, and had no idea that I was, where I was, or how this happened to be…
The damp cold air assaulted my nostrils, like Indian food on a Tuesday morning…after getting drunk the previous night. It appeared that I was in a two man jail cell, complete with the latest of prison designer apparel. With a stunning vista of the yard, garnished with steel fence, seasoned lightly with razor wire and axel grease, my new home had me wonder…WHAT THE FUCK HAD HAPPENED???!!!
I had been warned my whole life that eventually, I’d get so fucked up on drugs and alcohol, I would do something completely ludicrous, illegal, unethical, retarded based on principals, and just plain irresponsible…like shoot a goofball in my arm, after consuming a fifth of vodka, by myself, at 438am…at some scandalous down town, seedy and shady motel, and decide I wanted to go see my ex-girlfriend on a whim to see if she will still let me suck her tits, while I dry fuck the shit out of her (YUP…IM BRINGING IT BACK!!!) , I hop into a stolen car, proceed to crash into a Mexican, a boat, and a tree…all in one collision, and serve the rest of my life in prison…but that’s not what just happened…oh shit…now I remember…(FLASH BACK MUSIC INSERTED HERE!!!)
Bobby Lee had kept me under his aegis, seven out of the twelve days, I was marooned in this little cottage town called
. Bobby Lee was a southern chief from Knoxville , who looked and sounded like Dave Chapel. With spontaneous attitude toward the bible, drinking booze, and an unrealistic fear and loathing toward the Ku Klux Klan (which I had assumed to be a ferry tale, like the tooth fairy, the boogie man, or Michael Jackson) and since Bobby Lee had hooked me up with a place to stay, I had to get his back, until he asked me that question… Louisiana
Man???...” Bobby Lee asked as he looked from one side of the room to another, a sign that did not bode well. He continued “To keep our electricity oh-on, we's needs $102 dollaz…and’s in’s eye’s was a think’in, we can pawn yo bass for a moment. I know of a shop where we’s a-can put it on ice. I know…” he continued, as if he had premeditated this tirade, “it won’t take long to get it out, but…” Cali
“Hold the fuck up man!” I interrupted, “That’s like my tool, you know, i am on the road, like Jack Caurack, I need that!”
So it was understood at that point, that my bass would have NO PART in this $102 crack deal. I immediately made plans for
. Since I was unemployed, and clueless as to where my pilgrimage would lead me (other then to Nashville California, Texas, or ) I was in no rush at all. Everyone suggested I check out Colorado , since I am a musician first and foremost. My new destiny conjured images that rivaled a tempest over the sea… Nashville , the dirty little cowboy town I would fall in love with! Nashville
Having successfully burned the locals, scammed the tourists, and made local law enforcement look retarded, I could sense that the jig was up! I remember leaving
with $60 in my wallet, my electric 6-string bass, two backpacks full of clothes, boarding a buss with no issues other then having no bear for the ride. Washington D.C.
I had now been rejected three consecutive nights in a row, exactly at 1130pm. The bus would continuously reject me, not due to lack of finance resources, but lack of monetary instruments to utilize. I had no credit card on hand, so no reservation was made in my behalf, and the bus drivers were dicks. I called a contact on the west coast and had a reservation made for the following night, St. Patrick’s Day.
“Yo Chris? What’s up?”
“Nothing dude…so how’s
Virginia, or …or where ever the fuck you are?” Tennessee
“It’s rotten!” I began to protest. “I’m fucked, and I need your help! Just listen…the whole town is going to lynch me tomorrow at noon if I don’t get the fuck out of here right now!” I paused and waited for Chris to reply.
“So…what do I have to do?” Chris asked.
“I need you to order me a bus ticket to
. It like twelve dollars or some shit!” Nashville
So Chris agreed, and I then proceeded to make the unwise decision of spending the rest of the day in
Market Square, getting drunk and burning shit!