A Tribute...

.... first and foremost, I would like to extend a hearty thanks to Sadie and Velociman for duly posting, as requested, every day in my absence... you two rock.. and I owe you a deep debt of gratitude... and, of course, payback.... but in any case, thanks....

... moving onward however, my latest little jaunt to Scotland was a real surprise... it turned out to be full of wonder... it was a true gift.... to be quite honest, I hadn't expected the trip to be so filled with small pleasures... and yet, it was...

... I managed to write a wee bit while waiting for planes... or waiting for the waitresses at various esteemed drinking establishments.. but since Sadie's wonderfully satiric post, I feel a bit hesitant to share.... then again... fuck it.... this IS why you are here, right?... if not, bite me....

... so, without further ado.. behold the latest (well, the one-and-only) SWG travelogue...

... Knoxville, Tennessee... Nov 12th.. 2pm..
.. finally... leaving for Scotland... traveling in style, people... a dripping fresh knife-wound... a pocket full of Franklins.. and a one-way ticket to Amsterdam... I be set to jet... oh, and did I mention that Luuka is still in tow?... yep, that's right.... she's coming on this journey too... I will use the old Royal Mail to send her hairy tush over to Rocket Ted in Virginia... due to passport difficulties, I hadn't the chance to get her packed before the flight.. so, this is the way it happens....

... anyway, here I am... and as I sip this first of MANY double Macallans, I have to say this... airports totally rock... not only are they prime models of how anally we can ram structure, organization, and the fleecing of one's wallet onto the unsuspecting masses... they are also the providers of the absolute best venue for entreating your voyeuristic tendencies... here we have all kinds of people... all colors, shapes, and sizes.... all ages... some angry, some happy... some even seem nervous.... then, of course, some are like me... just sitting here... watching the world roll on by... cradling a drink... and waiting for a flight....

... just after leaving Newark, New Jersey.. somewhere over the Atlantic... Nov 12th.. 8pm... I just finished talking with a very strange liberal cutie named Gizzy... a film-maker.. quite a dish... but alas, her skills at ordering a drink are woefully lacking... one never asks a bartender the following question... especially if the asker is a nubile young blonde....

".. I'll have a Bloody Mary... oh, wait... what is that Bloody Mary they make that has fish juice poured into it?"....

... the large African bartender took immediate notice... but, seemed both excited and confused... I'm not 100% sure if he thought she was being serious... or, if she wanted to meet him later for some hot groping action..... but regardless...I, minding my own business with my double Johnnie Walker, sat mystified..... until aforesaid bartender exclaimed as if struck by lightning..

.. "AH HA!... you mean CLAM juice!!"....

... well, in the aftershock of this sudden realization, I spewed half-swallowed Scotch all over my appetizer.... anyway, after the looks from the rest of the bar had subsided, I wiped the scotch from my chin... just in time to hear that this drink is called a "Bloody Caesar"... not, as the young Zurich babe had claimed was a "Bloody Mary with Fish Juice"....

... anyway, you learn something new every day.... Hell, I even paid her tab as she left.. she had, after all, been the most entertainment I'd seen in hours... and that little memory was worth the twenty bucks...

... just as she was departing, an elderly Native American showed up... complete with red checkered scarf.. and of course, a medicine rattle hidden in a Nike gym bag... he sidled up and ordered a beer and a shot of tequila... a man after my own heart, I thought.... but as I said, I was minding my own business... sipping my Walker... when, he suddenly broke into conversation... you know, that sudden form of conversation.... the way where you can just TELL that he has not yet been thoroughly educated in the ways of world-travel-induced apathy...

.. "Hi, my name is Earl", says he... producing a large, well-tanned hand out to shake...

.. "Howdy, Earl... a pleasure to meet you... so, where are YOU from"....

.."Phoenix, friend.... I am on the way to speak at the Hague... I am on the International Indigenous Human Rights Committee...."

... well, normally this would have shut me right the Hell up... never having been a great friend of the Hague-crowd.... but he was obviously wanting to talk... and it was still 30 minutes before my flight... so, we continued to talk...

.. "I am a Pima Indian, and the mining companies are polluting the waters of my people" he began...

... now, I know what a lot of you are thinking... yeah, yeah... evil mining companies... poor Pima Indians... and, hey... you are right... if a company was polluting my water, they'd get shot at on a daily basis until they ceased, or, well... until I was locked up... but, the plight of his people was not the first thing that caught my attention.... I mean, here I was... sitting in an airport bar in NEWARK... and I was talking with a PIMA INDIAN!!... hot damn, children.... so, without letting him finish his story about the Great Injustice, I broke in upon him...

... "So, you are a Pima Indian?... Holy Shit, man... the only other Pima I have ever heard of was the Marine who helped raise the flag over Mt. Suribachi on Iwo Jima.. Ira Hayes..."

... "oh, yeah... Ira was my Uncle.... his brother Harold was my Father... "

... you could have knocked me over with a feather, children... some of you might not understand.. but, for a Marine, meeting this old Indian was an incredible treat... I bought him another beer and a shot as I was leaving the bar.... I wished him all the best in Belgium... and then, I headed for my flight... Ira fucking Hayes.... I met his Nephew.. in Newark of all places..

... anyway... the rest of the notes from my week away will have to wait till tomorrow... I am tired now... and, I want to go listen to some Johnny Cash.... In particular, The Ballad of Ira Hayes...

... all in all, I had an incredible holiday.... not long enough, of course, but they never ever are....

by Eric on November 20, 2004 | Bullshit (5)
ยป Tammi's World links with: Straight White Guy's Travels
Bullshit So Far

Holy shit! I can't believe you met Ira Hayes' kinfolk AND saw Kid Rock in the flesh, all in the same trip. You sir, are a man Marked for Great Things.

You were SORELY missed.

Bullshitted by kelley on November 20, 2004 05:06 PM

He's probably saying, "I cannot believe that this guy I met in a bar in Newark actually knew who Ira Hayes was and that he was a Pima Indian.

Cool things sometimes happen in Jersey - even in farookin' Newark, one of the state's several armpits.

Bullshitted by Jim - PRS on November 20, 2004 07:49 PM

You're already back? I never got to put up my Marilyn Manson nudes. He who hesitates...

Bullshitted by Velociman on November 20, 2004 10:21 PM

Never heard the ballad before. Thanks. And, as always, thanks for perpetuating the memory of another famous Marine.

Bullshitted by Indigo on November 21, 2004 12:51 PM

Awesome .... just awesome. Quite a few of us from my platoon used to sing this all the time. Hell, it was on of my dad's favorites when I was a wee little man. To have met family of Ira would have just floored me.

Too cool, man.

Bullshitted by That 1 Guy on November 22, 2004 04:56 AM