I've had a mad day. And been exploring the nature of guilt.
No, not Guilty, like O.J. His kind of guilt is just a judgement from others. I don't see him suffering (and he should). It's when you feel guilty, even though you didn't do anything to be guilty about. Even though you know you shouldn't feel guilty, and logically, there is nothing to be guilty about. But, you still feel terrible. Like you're the most horrible person in the world.
Have you ever called in sick to work? You're really sick, you're not usuable at work, you're not lying...and when you call, work makes you feel guilty! Every moment at home surrounded by loads of used tissues, all you can think of is how you let them down at work...and you know you shouldn't feel that!!! Thats the guilt that tears and rips at you. The feeling you let someone down, even though your mind says theres no reason for that. Workers. Friends. Family. Children
The heart has a fragile soul and defines you.
And if you're reading this, and you don't have any idea what that feels like...you will never understand me, or anyone I am friends with.
In fact, I embrace the kind hearts of the people I surround myself with, those who are racked with guilt sometimes. Because, their heart is so big, so pure, it's such a big target for hurt. And, I've become such a protective soul as I grow older. An empathic paladin.
I will take the bullet. Or at least share the pain. No one should feel guilty alone, so either I am an aura of compassion, or a big puss like some people say.
This reminds me of a story: a loooong time ago, my sister Carol went to UCDavis, far from home, living on campus. She took my dog with her (my moms new boyfriend, later husband, didn't like dogs. Or perhaps didn't like my dog. either way, Carol had to take him). She walked the big shambling mound everyday, and one day, he got in a fight in park with another dog. Carol called home freaked out after this horrible encounter, crying. I talked to her first and empathically connected with her pain, trying to calm her, and fully understanding...
Then my mom went on the phone: She laughed at Carol.
I said, What are you doing?! Don't laugh at her durring this!! And my mom angrily covered the phone and said to me, "I'm trying to show her how rediculous she's being!! YOU just aren't sensitive!!"
ME?! I am, and have always been, so hypersensitive, It's sometimes overwhelming!! I truely believe I have my own cycles where I'm too emotional, get cramps, retain water, and my boobs hurt!! I'm like emotional flashpaper! I am SOOO un-dude-like!
I guess that doesn't make me fun at parties, huh?
But, I think i'm happier being the shield for others. And yes, when you spend too much time chasing other peoples clouds away, you sometimes end up in someone elses rainy day.
I' still would rather be the umbrella. I bet umbrellas feel good about themselves.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
As If Anyone Needed Proof of My Geekiness.
Here's my wonderful car. But, why am I so enamored by a white beetle?
Time for a little backstory.
As a child, I always had a vast imagination and creativity to go with it. I didn't get too many gifts and I used my own means to make myself the toys I always wished I had. I like batman, and mom wouldn't buy me any batman toys, so I built my own. It was an exact replica of TV's batcave! It was made with tiny hands and shoeboxes for the backdrop, straws for the batpoles, masking tape for fabric and texture. It was pinpoint accurate, font, color, and layout to the TV original. Even as a wee wee lad, I had a fantastic ability to make things as true as possible with the materials at hand.
I loved star trek. I made a 1/24th scale Enterprise bridge set that was custom made for my plastic farm animals (didn't it seem that we all got a bag of farm animals as a child at one point in life from someone?). I loved Battlestar Galactica. I made the galactica with working launch tubes, vipers, and little colonial warrior helmets for the farm animal pilots with working chin straps made out of masking tape. Mom used to get mad I used up all the masking tape...
I loved the Beatles Yellow Submarine. Guess what I did? And After seeing Jaws, I made a fantastically detailed model of the ship the Orca that Quint had to get the shark. Straw masts, thimble pontoons, thread rigging, paper clip hooks, and a cardboard collapsible shark cage. I even made a shark big enough to swallow a farm animal whole.
And one movie that made my life back then, was "the Love Bug". From that day forth, I had this thing for Volkswagen beetles. I said to myself that when I grew up, I would get me a beetle like Herbie one day. And yes, I produced a small accurate cardboard car with working wheels, doors, and hood, the red/white/blue racing stripe, the number "53" in the correct font, and a space for a little plastic goat to drive it.
In my teens, I was so jealous of my friend Doug, whos parents got him a 1965 junkie primer colored beetle. And secretly mad at him for not wanted to even try to make it a Herbie. My first own car when I was 18 was white...a white Chevy Chevette. Not exactly what I dreamed my first car would be. And when the brakes gave out on it a month later going to work, not exactly the kind of wild ride I was expecting.
And now we come to today. And today harkens back to the little 6 year old in me again, redeeming the promise I made to myself.
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking about the used car lot with the newly minted check, looking at small cars, but not seeing anything I liked. People told me to get a Saturn, a Mazda, even look at the Mini coupe. I tried them all, but it didn't "feel" like me. I can't explain it. The exasperated car dealer said he had some more cars in Oregon we can go to and look on that bigger lot. I reluctantly said yes.
We drove up to the lot, and much like Jim Douglas looking at the expensive cars in Thorndykes auto showroom in the "Love Bug", I saw this little white beetle hidden among the flashy vehicles. He didn't want to "waste my time" with that car, but I insisted , for a lark, to a test drive. And, I became the six year old again! I never felt more comfortable with a car. The lonely white New beetle hidden on the backlot was purchased that day. Was it ironic that is happened to be white? Was it Karma?
As I drove my new baby home, my mind was reeling back to a promise I made as a child. I petted the dash and decided that if it was chance or destiny I finally got myself a white bug, I would surrender to the geek inside of me. And I set about immediately on research, design, investing, and lots of work...
Got my car finished last night. And the child inside me is absolutely glowing!!!
...There's your proof. I guess now I'm the plastic goat.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Halloweens Past
Yep, I'm sick again...
It's the flu, and it's creating havoc with my voice. Earlier this morning it was a wee raspy high pitch whine that only bats can hear. Now, it's turn the opposite way, and it's gotten so low, it sounds like either Barry White, or James Earl Jones.
So, I had to call the few people I knew and when they answered, I'd play the Imperial March in the background and say "You are part of the rebel alliance, and a traitor!! Take her away!!"
Can't do that now though, my voice just changed to Eeyore. Come to think of it, it started out as Winnie the Pooh.
____________________________
I didn't post on Halloween, and there was a reason for that: Nothing happened...
Nothing! No kids in coolass satiny costumes with the plastic half mask and paper sacks with pumpkins on it. No middle school kids just tromping about the streets in some kind of get up, usually a killer or a punk. No nuthin.
Well that's not entirely true. On the way home from work at 10pm, I was driving my the paper mill near where I live. The streets were devoid of any people for the 31st...Except for this one 20-30 guy on the street corner. A pear shaped lad in a dark wife beater, jeans and muttonchops. I didn't know what to make of it, other than this portly fellow just left work at the mill and is going to on of the twelve bars nearby (in Camas, it seems like drinking is the pastime of choice...).
Then I saw something that made me giddy with glee: He had on lil' black gloves with three tiny 3 inch silvery spokes on the fist. Oh my God! He's dressed up as Wolverine! He was the only person in a costume for miles around with all the stores closed, and he even had a beer can prop. Then again, perhaps it wasn't a prop.
Anyway, I fought the urge to circle back about and make sure I saw what I saw.
I remember a time when I went trick or treating as a child, and it was sooo cool! You'd get one of those costumes at Ralphs that were in a box with the mask on the front from Rubies. The actual jumpsuit was no better than paper and had the image of whatever you were supposed to be on the front. Like, if you were supposed to be a penguin, you would have a black jumpsuit with a white belly, you'd have a stupid picture of a bunch of penguins on your tummy.
I even had one cool costume with a robot mask with a bulb that lit up on the forehead (Giant Robot! Attack!). It was shredded when I took a shortcut through a rose bush.
I remember walking miles to all these houses with a small group, and getting tons of candy from wonderful smartiees, to lousy candy corn, to popcorn balls. I actually liked the popcorn balls, that took time to do! I didn't like bags of popcorn. Someone went the cheap route. And even worse, the dreaded old guy who gave out pennies.
I'd go home and mom would inspect the candy very casually. Usually, if no razor blade is sticking out an apple, it's all good. Besides, do you know how much work will go into forcing a blade into an apple? And really, an apple? I used to toss those before I got home to make room. I'd have a HUGE load!
...Then the world changed.
Parents were scared of other people giving candy to others and children walking around in the dark. So they moved the trick or treating in a well lit mall, which ruins the costumes look under fluorescent lights. But, when I was a kid, there were hundreds of packs of kids milling about the streets! Ever see the Halloween scene in E.T.? Just like that before! If something bad happened to a kid at a house, the Childrens Underground Network would spread like wildfire.
And we come to the hideous Halloweens of today.
Last year, it was like Beruit. Cars would slooooowly move down streets to a clearly marked house. The door would fly open, and the poor children would run to the door like they were under fire by "Charlie". The poor kids would barely get out "twick o' tweet" between labored breaths, before they and to run back to the still running car with the parent yelling " Run. RUN!! Serpentine!!!"
Happened so fast, you didn't even see a costume.
And it also sucks for the kids nowadays when they have a costume they're proud of, and mom makes then put on a huge heavy coat, scarf, cap, boots, and a flashlight big enough to down a plane. So every kid I saw was dressed like a longshoresman.
So, I miss the Halloween days of yore. Even that one time I got that one 3 musketeer that was white, powdery and pitted. I looked it up and that candy bar was a decade old. Looked like an old turd from a Labrador.
At least I can go back to that house with the Smartiees...
It's the flu, and it's creating havoc with my voice. Earlier this morning it was a wee raspy high pitch whine that only bats can hear. Now, it's turn the opposite way, and it's gotten so low, it sounds like either Barry White, or James Earl Jones.
So, I had to call the few people I knew and when they answered, I'd play the Imperial March in the background and say "You are part of the rebel alliance, and a traitor!! Take her away!!"
Can't do that now though, my voice just changed to Eeyore. Come to think of it, it started out as Winnie the Pooh.
____________________________
I didn't post on Halloween, and there was a reason for that: Nothing happened...
Nothing! No kids in coolass satiny costumes with the plastic half mask and paper sacks with pumpkins on it. No middle school kids just tromping about the streets in some kind of get up, usually a killer or a punk. No nuthin.
Well that's not entirely true. On the way home from work at 10pm, I was driving my the paper mill near where I live. The streets were devoid of any people for the 31st...Except for this one 20-30 guy on the street corner. A pear shaped lad in a dark wife beater, jeans and muttonchops. I didn't know what to make of it, other than this portly fellow just left work at the mill and is going to on of the twelve bars nearby (in Camas, it seems like drinking is the pastime of choice...).
Then I saw something that made me giddy with glee: He had on lil' black gloves with three tiny 3 inch silvery spokes on the fist. Oh my God! He's dressed up as Wolverine! He was the only person in a costume for miles around with all the stores closed, and he even had a beer can prop. Then again, perhaps it wasn't a prop.
Anyway, I fought the urge to circle back about and make sure I saw what I saw.
I remember a time when I went trick or treating as a child, and it was sooo cool! You'd get one of those costumes at Ralphs that were in a box with the mask on the front from Rubies. The actual jumpsuit was no better than paper and had the image of whatever you were supposed to be on the front. Like, if you were supposed to be a penguin, you would have a black jumpsuit with a white belly, you'd have a stupid picture of a bunch of penguins on your tummy.
I even had one cool costume with a robot mask with a bulb that lit up on the forehead (Giant Robot! Attack!). It was shredded when I took a shortcut through a rose bush.
I remember walking miles to all these houses with a small group, and getting tons of candy from wonderful smartiees, to lousy candy corn, to popcorn balls. I actually liked the popcorn balls, that took time to do! I didn't like bags of popcorn. Someone went the cheap route. And even worse, the dreaded old guy who gave out pennies.
I'd go home and mom would inspect the candy very casually. Usually, if no razor blade is sticking out an apple, it's all good. Besides, do you know how much work will go into forcing a blade into an apple? And really, an apple? I used to toss those before I got home to make room. I'd have a HUGE load!
...Then the world changed.
Parents were scared of other people giving candy to others and children walking around in the dark. So they moved the trick or treating in a well lit mall, which ruins the costumes look under fluorescent lights. But, when I was a kid, there were hundreds of packs of kids milling about the streets! Ever see the Halloween scene in E.T.? Just like that before! If something bad happened to a kid at a house, the Childrens Underground Network would spread like wildfire.
And we come to the hideous Halloweens of today.
Last year, it was like Beruit. Cars would slooooowly move down streets to a clearly marked house. The door would fly open, and the poor children would run to the door like they were under fire by "Charlie". The poor kids would barely get out "twick o' tweet" between labored breaths, before they and to run back to the still running car with the parent yelling " Run. RUN!! Serpentine!!!"
Happened so fast, you didn't even see a costume.
And it also sucks for the kids nowadays when they have a costume they're proud of, and mom makes then put on a huge heavy coat, scarf, cap, boots, and a flashlight big enough to down a plane. So every kid I saw was dressed like a longshoresman.
So, I miss the Halloween days of yore. Even that one time I got that one 3 musketeer that was white, powdery and pitted. I looked it up and that candy bar was a decade old. Looked like an old turd from a Labrador.
At least I can go back to that house with the Smartiees...
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Mr. Mike Goes to Washington
Kinda moot since i'm already here. But really, this is the story of the little guy beating the big corporate machines. The story of where i've been for the last month. And, it's a happy ending too.
Ah, where to begin.
A lot of people have been asking me where i've been all this time, as i usually post quite well. Thanks to all of you, and please, no need to worry about lil' old me anymore. Firstly, I quit my old job at OfficeMax, and the reasons are obvious to anyone whos read my previous posts. I now work at "the enemy", Office depot, but now, i'm being paid for what i did at OfficeMax. I am now the stockroom manager, instead of doing the work of the same and not getting paid for it!
And, I finaly like going to work! I love the people I work with, and I'm quite content. Right now I don't have my 3 man stocking team (it's just me right now doing 3 jobs), and I'm exhausted...but it's still good. And, this all happed in conjunction with the REAL good stuff!
Y'see, remember waaaay back when my car was sideswiped by a dumptruck (a previous post)? I got screwed about by the trucking company, the insurance company, the auto collision company... And I ending up paying out so much that I was broke with bills going into default collection. I couldn't pay rent, and all I could do was get my car back and buy new tires. I payed away my life and my car was actually fine. They tried to crush my soul...
I don't crush easily.
I did my research. Even though I didn't have a leg to stand on with the property damage payout of the accident, I had found out that the "pain and suffering" portion required me to accept some settlement. Like I was gonna settle easily! Even as energy was threatening to shut off my power and I was getting nastygrams from collectors and the landlord, I wouldn't accept the first offer the gave me 5 months later. I knew they wanted to clear the books, as it were. I wouldn't let them untill they bow down... to... me!
KNEEL before ZoD!!! It's my turn, ya bastards.
I kept my notes and spent time at the library in lawbooks. I noted the facts that the trucking company didn't want to report the accident (illegal). That they didn't report it till weeks later and kept being "unavailable" (illegal). that they didn't offer to come to my house to access the damage and instead had me tow the car to portland (illegal). that the accessment took weeks, tying up myn car in storage fees (illegal). They offered a bribe to make me go away...and so on.
That the auto collision place told me the washingfton law says the insurance HAS to pay for my rental and tow (they don't). How they charge for weekend storage at twice the rate...and they aren't open those days. How the Insurance company came to a very very low amount for my car by ignoring the going price of the same cars sold locally.
I kept notes, names and recordings. I called state attorneys. I contacted the state insurance regulatory commission. I got a public lawyer pro bono (he likes U2)...and I didn't accept any piddly offer from anyone. They were going to pay, and pay dearly. I don't scream and stomp. I get quiet, plan and observe like a chess game.
The court costs were killing me, but I knew that was their "game". Sold and hawked everything I had to stay in the game. Went days without being able to buy food or gas (the cat always ate though), and i laughed at the various increasing offers given to settle from each of the parties. Like Mr. Banker in "Deal or No Deal", if they're offering me this much, I must have a good hand. I knew they wanted to make this go away before the next fiscal quarter to make the books look clean, and I was playing the only card I had, but it was a powerful one...the big wait. This was principle (Like Victoria Principal when she was hot, and not the current version of the leatherty silicone faced makeup peddler seen in late night infomercials).
Then in late September...checkmate...Royal flush
I won all three cases, and then some. The judge even made them pay for court costs.
I not only got payed a humungous amount for Pain and Suffering, all the fees i paid to the collision center and rental was refunded. And the trucking company faired the worst...
Thanks to their ineptatude, I now have a new car:
More on that later. It's almost too geeky to mention...
Ah, where to begin.
A lot of people have been asking me where i've been all this time, as i usually post quite well. Thanks to all of you, and please, no need to worry about lil' old me anymore. Firstly, I quit my old job at OfficeMax, and the reasons are obvious to anyone whos read my previous posts. I now work at "the enemy", Office depot, but now, i'm being paid for what i did at OfficeMax. I am now the stockroom manager, instead of doing the work of the same and not getting paid for it!
And, I finaly like going to work! I love the people I work with, and I'm quite content. Right now I don't have my 3 man stocking team (it's just me right now doing 3 jobs), and I'm exhausted...but it's still good. And, this all happed in conjunction with the REAL good stuff!
Y'see, remember waaaay back when my car was sideswiped by a dumptruck (a previous post)? I got screwed about by the trucking company, the insurance company, the auto collision company... And I ending up paying out so much that I was broke with bills going into default collection. I couldn't pay rent, and all I could do was get my car back and buy new tires. I payed away my life and my car was actually fine. They tried to crush my soul...
I don't crush easily.
I did my research. Even though I didn't have a leg to stand on with the property damage payout of the accident, I had found out that the "pain and suffering" portion required me to accept some settlement. Like I was gonna settle easily! Even as energy was threatening to shut off my power and I was getting nastygrams from collectors and the landlord, I wouldn't accept the first offer the gave me 5 months later. I knew they wanted to clear the books, as it were. I wouldn't let them untill they bow down... to... me!
KNEEL before ZoD!!! It's my turn, ya bastards.
I kept my notes and spent time at the library in lawbooks. I noted the facts that the trucking company didn't want to report the accident (illegal). That they didn't report it till weeks later and kept being "unavailable" (illegal). that they didn't offer to come to my house to access the damage and instead had me tow the car to portland (illegal). that the accessment took weeks, tying up myn car in storage fees (illegal). They offered a bribe to make me go away...and so on.
That the auto collision place told me the washingfton law says the insurance HAS to pay for my rental and tow (they don't). How they charge for weekend storage at twice the rate...and they aren't open those days. How the Insurance company came to a very very low amount for my car by ignoring the going price of the same cars sold locally.
I kept notes, names and recordings. I called state attorneys. I contacted the state insurance regulatory commission. I got a public lawyer pro bono (he likes U2)...and I didn't accept any piddly offer from anyone. They were going to pay, and pay dearly. I don't scream and stomp. I get quiet, plan and observe like a chess game.
The court costs were killing me, but I knew that was their "game". Sold and hawked everything I had to stay in the game. Went days without being able to buy food or gas (the cat always ate though), and i laughed at the various increasing offers given to settle from each of the parties. Like Mr. Banker in "Deal or No Deal", if they're offering me this much, I must have a good hand. I knew they wanted to make this go away before the next fiscal quarter to make the books look clean, and I was playing the only card I had, but it was a powerful one...the big wait. This was principle (Like Victoria Principal when she was hot, and not the current version of the leatherty silicone faced makeup peddler seen in late night infomercials).
Then in late September...checkmate...Royal flush
I won all three cases, and then some. The judge even made them pay for court costs.
I not only got payed a humungous amount for Pain and Suffering, all the fees i paid to the collision center and rental was refunded. And the trucking company faired the worst...
Thanks to their ineptatude, I now have a new car:
More on that later. It's almost too geeky to mention...
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Fear and Drunkenness in Vegas (part 2)
(Note: If you have not read Part 1 first, please go to the previous post and do so now!~ Things will make more sense that way. And please do not reveal the shock ending! Now...Where we're we? Ah, yes... The Shark Club urinals...)
PART 2: Purge Transit
The two party guys hand over the sagging load of stinking flesh that is my roommate for Vegas, Doug. I sling and arm about him and half drag him to the line of taxis. The first one opens up the door, probably thinking he's gonna get a load of cash off of me just for driving us a few blocks. I slide the still laughing Doug into the back seat, trying to fold his noodle legs in so I can slam the door shut.
"were too?" the Taxi driver asks.
"Excalabur" I get into the front seat of the cab. He gives me a look on why I wouldn't want to ride with my buddy.
"He's not gotta throw up, is he? I aint taking him if he's gonna throw up in here..."
I look back to the open mouth slobbering grin that Doug is giving from the back seat. If I tell the truth, we'll be back at the Club, and I don't think I can stop his blubbery frame from going back in the club. He'll be arrested eventually. So, I lie. I tell the cabbie, no problems, he threw up already...
So we start to drive back to the hotel. We don't get out of the driveway when the cabbie and I smell a horrendous stench from the back seat. And the cackling slurred laugh starts up again. And now he's talking endlessly.
"Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it!..."
"Who's Mike?" the cabbie asks. I say I don't know, he's drunk. Why stop lying now?
I can see the lights of the Excalibur car port! We've almost made it! We're gonna.... wait. The back seat all of a sudden fell silent. I look back and I see Doug's head rocking back and forth slightly. Eyes glazed, the sound of belch being born. I see a fast moving countdown timer metiphorically on his face. And through grit teeth, a scream, "Shit!!!" as I undo my seatbelt and slide down to the floorboard. The cabbie just got "wha...?" out and looked back...
When the projectile vomit started.
The cabbie is scraming like a little girl and blinded, covered. The front window is painted with sick as he slams on the brakes and we start to fishtail out of control into the hotel carport. Doug throws his gurggling head back and now he looks like one of those school project volcanos. He's tapped into another dimention, because the puke and bubbling sounds just isn't stopping!
As we come to a stop on the curb we jumped, and fall out of the cab like it was on fire. Who knew a cab driver knew so many profanities? I grab Dougs ankle and drag his heavy carcass to the automatic doors of the hotel, proping him up on the frame. I tell the cabbie, who's now wiping out the backseat with papertowels and catlitter, "sorry" and give him $50. He's earned it today.
I look behind me and see that Doug has slid off the frame and his head is now caught between the sliding doors, which are now opening and closing on his neck as he's laughing like an idiot. Getting him up and dragging him to the elevators to end this nightmare, he see the escalator up to the slots room. He tries to brake away from me, stumbling.
"erp...wanna gambowl..." he spits out from his red, now crusty, face. I tell Doug "no", and the next thing I feel is a meaty balled up fist slamming into my eye socket, with the full wieght of a bloated drunken rage. I fly backwards into the corner...and I...finally...snapped.
My evening was watching this idiot, toteing his fat ass, dodging vomit, almost dying in a old cab, and spending all of my days money for the cab. I am only trying to help. And then...he full on HITS me in anger?!!
Have you ever read about those times were people get superhuman strength and lift cars off of babies and stuff? It's totally true. I got up, the most pissed off I've ever got. Raced over to Doug, trying to get on the escalator up, actually pick up his almost 300 pound frame over my head, and toss him over the rail to the down escalator. Hotel security comes to the scene just as Doug comes to rest on his back at the bottom of the escalator, and he was laughing like the joker all the way. He loved it.
We all pour his body onto a wheelchair, and his dead weight is bottoming out the frame. He has to be taken through the casino as he's too heavy to be taken into the normal elevator. He's doing the "Mike did it..." mantra again and try to snatch drinks and chips off of tables. He also stripped half down by the time we clear the floor to the freight elevators. He's only in his soggy baggy whities when we get to the hotel room door.
The rest of the evening to morning, was hearing him in the bathroom belching, throwing up, betching, etc. I spent the rest of the two days in a friends room. But, I made sure I called Doug from a dead sleep every 15 minutes, Just to make his hangover all the more painful. He ended up throwing the phone across the room and having to pay for it, then he threw up into his suitcase when he tried to get clean clothes. He had no recollection of what happened. Or why his suitcase was full of vomit. But, he spent the rest of the few days in Vegas holed up in his room with nothing but a bedsheet toga for clothes.
Ah, Vegas....I don't think I needed to travel to the Sin City just to get a black eye.
PART 2: Purge Transit
The two party guys hand over the sagging load of stinking flesh that is my roommate for Vegas, Doug. I sling and arm about him and half drag him to the line of taxis. The first one opens up the door, probably thinking he's gonna get a load of cash off of me just for driving us a few blocks. I slide the still laughing Doug into the back seat, trying to fold his noodle legs in so I can slam the door shut.
"were too?" the Taxi driver asks.
"Excalabur" I get into the front seat of the cab. He gives me a look on why I wouldn't want to ride with my buddy.
"He's not gotta throw up, is he? I aint taking him if he's gonna throw up in here..."
I look back to the open mouth slobbering grin that Doug is giving from the back seat. If I tell the truth, we'll be back at the Club, and I don't think I can stop his blubbery frame from going back in the club. He'll be arrested eventually. So, I lie. I tell the cabbie, no problems, he threw up already...
So we start to drive back to the hotel. We don't get out of the driveway when the cabbie and I smell a horrendous stench from the back seat. And the cackling slurred laugh starts up again. And now he's talking endlessly.
"Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it! Mike did it!..."
"Who's Mike?" the cabbie asks. I say I don't know, he's drunk. Why stop lying now?
I can see the lights of the Excalibur car port! We've almost made it! We're gonna.... wait. The back seat all of a sudden fell silent. I look back and I see Doug's head rocking back and forth slightly. Eyes glazed, the sound of belch being born. I see a fast moving countdown timer metiphorically on his face. And through grit teeth, a scream, "Shit!!!" as I undo my seatbelt and slide down to the floorboard. The cabbie just got "wha...?" out and looked back...
When the projectile vomit started.
The cabbie is scraming like a little girl and blinded, covered. The front window is painted with sick as he slams on the brakes and we start to fishtail out of control into the hotel carport. Doug throws his gurggling head back and now he looks like one of those school project volcanos. He's tapped into another dimention, because the puke and bubbling sounds just isn't stopping!
As we come to a stop on the curb we jumped, and fall out of the cab like it was on fire. Who knew a cab driver knew so many profanities? I grab Dougs ankle and drag his heavy carcass to the automatic doors of the hotel, proping him up on the frame. I tell the cabbie, who's now wiping out the backseat with papertowels and catlitter, "sorry" and give him $50. He's earned it today.
I look behind me and see that Doug has slid off the frame and his head is now caught between the sliding doors, which are now opening and closing on his neck as he's laughing like an idiot. Getting him up and dragging him to the elevators to end this nightmare, he see the escalator up to the slots room. He tries to brake away from me, stumbling.
"erp...wanna gambowl..." he spits out from his red, now crusty, face. I tell Doug "no", and the next thing I feel is a meaty balled up fist slamming into my eye socket, with the full wieght of a bloated drunken rage. I fly backwards into the corner...and I...finally...snapped.
My evening was watching this idiot, toteing his fat ass, dodging vomit, almost dying in a old cab, and spending all of my days money for the cab. I am only trying to help. And then...he full on HITS me in anger?!!
Have you ever read about those times were people get superhuman strength and lift cars off of babies and stuff? It's totally true. I got up, the most pissed off I've ever got. Raced over to Doug, trying to get on the escalator up, actually pick up his almost 300 pound frame over my head, and toss him over the rail to the down escalator. Hotel security comes to the scene just as Doug comes to rest on his back at the bottom of the escalator, and he was laughing like the joker all the way. He loved it.
We all pour his body onto a wheelchair, and his dead weight is bottoming out the frame. He has to be taken through the casino as he's too heavy to be taken into the normal elevator. He's doing the "Mike did it..." mantra again and try to snatch drinks and chips off of tables. He also stripped half down by the time we clear the floor to the freight elevators. He's only in his soggy baggy whities when we get to the hotel room door.
The rest of the evening to morning, was hearing him in the bathroom belching, throwing up, betching, etc. I spent the rest of the two days in a friends room. But, I made sure I called Doug from a dead sleep every 15 minutes, Just to make his hangover all the more painful. He ended up throwing the phone across the room and having to pay for it, then he threw up into his suitcase when he tried to get clean clothes. He had no recollection of what happened. Or why his suitcase was full of vomit. But, he spent the rest of the few days in Vegas holed up in his room with nothing but a bedsheet toga for clothes.
Ah, Vegas....I don't think I needed to travel to the Sin City just to get a black eye.
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