Ahhhh, the beautiful Oooooooo klahoma country side. So... flat.
The bus stop is in the ghetto & of course my ride is not there to meet me.
Ahhhh, what's that across the street?
Is it...could it be....

a speak easy?

a night club?
a pub? a dive? a whiskey bar?
Close enough. It's got an Irish name & looks like Chili's threw up on TGI-Fridays, but.
it's open.
and.
there are people there.
Not just people. A cover band is playing.
Playing "the chain", by Fleetwood Mac.
This chick is WAILING!
I walk across the golf course, jay walk across the 4-lane, stop by the conveniently located Bank of the good ol' US (bank with us if you are a patriot), and swagger up to the entrance. The band is playing in a roped off area that is only accessible by going through the pub.
I bite.
Open the door. Walk in.
The jukebox plays "Rock and Roll Nigger" by Patti Smith.
I don't see any in here. Rock and Roll or otherwise. There are, however, some interesting folks at the bar, I notice as I sidle up to get a drink......
......
.......
The cute waitress looks tired.
"Maryanne, another please."
The cute tired waitress tells me her name is not Maryanne without a word.
"Do you mind if I call you Maryanne, Maryanne?" I ask, ever so politely.
She slams my dink down, sloshing a third of it on the bar.
I go all-in on video hold em. Everyone else folds.
Again.
"C'mon people, I'm bluffing!" I say loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear. I'm not really bluffing.
this time.
A semi-cute red head & what I assume is her boyfriend sit next to me at the bar and join the poker game, introducing themselves as Mark & Kristy.
"I wasn't really bluffing", I confide to them.

I sit & play, watch and listen, drink & wait.
I hear Mark & Kristy talking about Kristy's boyfriend, who's a Marine.
In Afghanistan.
And how Mark (being his best friend) and Kristy (being his fiance') are so worried about him. They do seem truly concerned, as they proceed to grope each other & explore one another's upper pallet with their tongues.
I sigh...
Shed a small tear.
Ah, love....
LOVE!

gets me every time

Back on the bus

I board the bus (yes I’m riding the gods damned Grey Hound, what better way to see America?) with some regret. I have nothing but good memories of St. Louis. If it wasn’t for the fact that the bus station didn’t have lockers, and I didn’t have luggage, I could’ve gone down by the river to a cool bar instead of settling for the hotel bar across the street. Well at least I had time for a few drinks.
I manage to secure two seats for myself, thank god.
Eyepatch & Coughy sit in front of me.
I spy the Arch as we pull out of the city. Every white trash fucker whose never traveled is on their “cell phone” bragging about seeing the Arch. Ah, the Arch. I do really like the Arch. Fuck “form follows function”, it looks really cool! Though I do refrain from calling everyone I know & telling them about it.
“About 1 am Texas time”, says the guy talking way too loudly on his wireless communication device, “They don’t let you drink on this bus”.
Dumb bastard should’ve packed a pint.
“You can smoke pot and still get a job”, says Eyepatch. “I’ve never had a piss test for a job! Ya know? It’s not like your smokin’ crack” Then into his “cell phone”, “Make sure I have a fif of Jack when I get there, ARIGHT!?”
“You can’t keep a good job and smoke pot.” Says Coughy (Eyepatche's coughing girlfriend)
“90% of the world smokes pot!” Counters Eyepatch.
After a pause of him fucking with his luggage, Eyepatch says, “My moms got a blunt for us when we get there.”
At least I’ve got a seat to myself…
“I thought about gettin’ a tramp stamp with a butterfly and a woof’s face into tribal” says Coughy.
Eyepatch begins showing off and describing in detail each of his prison tats.
The sun is slowly setting. Someone in front of me is speaking Spanish way too loudly.
I see two Shell stations across the street from each other.
“This country is so homogenized”, I think “Same restaurants, same hotels, same Wal-Marts, Bank of Fucking America!”
Then I see this beautiful giant cross sculpture breaking up the scenery…
…
…
This country is so homogenized…

First Stop St. Louis

I sit at the bar and pretend I’m a friend of the brunette girl sitting nearby. I ask her how she’s enjoying Ayn Rand, because she reading (or pretending to read) “Atlas Shrugged”. What a bloated piece of crap. The book, not the girl. I ask what she thinks of Ayn’s hard lined capitalist views….
She ignores me.
Soon her friends, who I dub “Barbie” & “Ken” (because I’m so fantastically clever), join us. I can only assume they are a couple. Not by their intimacy level with each other, but by their carefully coordinated designer clothing and eau de toilette smells.
The bartender, who looks like Bernie Mac, is busy cheering on the horse races. I call him Isaac. Because he’s black.
“Barbie”, “Ken”, and my brunette friend start joking about ditching the wedding they are in town for. I suggest they visit beautiful East St. Louis.
They stare at me for an uncomfortable second… Then “Ken” comments about how he’s “really hungry for some FUCKING FA-HEE-TAHS!”.
I want a smoke. Too bad…. Apparently you can’t smoke anywhere in St. Louis under penalty of death.

James Gandolfini sits down across the bar & gives me the finger.

Fuck him.
“Barbie” orders a Crown & Coke. “Ken” (I can only assume following my lead) orders a Jameson neat. I’m pretty sure he has no idea what this is, since when Isaac delivers, his nose wrinkles as he lifts it to his lips.
I check my watch…
No, really I check my cell phone for the time, because I don’t wear a watch…
No, actually I check my wireless communication device for the time, because cellular technology went out with slap bracelets and fanny packs…
and because I don’t have a watch.
6ish… I’ve got time.
I downshift from Jamesons and ask Isaac for a beer. He tells me to stop calling him Isaac, his name is Reese. Huh.
“Ken” is telling a hilarious story about one of his frat brothers getting caught masturbating in his car. “Barbie” keeps looking over her shoulder trying to see what I’m writing..
Mind your own business you meddling bitch!
Uh oh, I think she read that. Oh no, she’s whispering to “Ken”. “Ken” looks angry. He stares me down hard. I turn the tables and ignore them. “Ken” is thrown off, & continues his diatribe about calling in to work to go on a 24 hour pub crawl.
Did I mention that “Barbie” has a nice ass.
Brunette drinks another… coffee?! “Barbie” & “Ken” are nursing their drinks.
I check my… Well, I look to see what time it is. 6:15. I’ve got time.
Sophie & Biff come up & greet Tiffany (formerly “Barbie”) & Ken (formerly “Ken”)
Another really cute Brunette sits down across the bar next to Gandolfini. She gives me a sensuous stare… HOT!…
Then she gives me the finger.
Did I mention I’d like to smoke?
Another group comes up to Ken, Tif, Sophie, Biff, and my brunette friend joking about doing some Irish car bomb shots. They are obviously also going to the wedding. I am obviously not.
“Bruce”, from the new group starts ordering a bunch of pussy drinks, and I say, “Hey Bruce, what about those car bombs?” Mostly they ignore me, but “Bruce” takes a couple seconds to leer at me. I’m sure he & Ken are great friends.
I check the time…
Again…
“What are you writing?” asks Tif, “is it like, your diary or something?”
“Something like that”, I reply, “a diary of people who annoy me that I want to kill.”
“Ohhhhh, ha ha, ah, wha… ohhh..” she stammers as her and her party stand to leave.
“Have a fun wedding”, I say, just a bit sinisterly.
“You too” she replies.
6:30
If I leave now I may be able to hole up in a dumpster and have a smoke before my bus leaves.

It's all true!

I am a bastard, and a scoundrel! I make fun of people. I am not P.C. by any means. So if you are easily offended, please just fuck off now!