Thursday, October 14, 2004

Oct 14th, and I am John Q. Public

Cause and Effect:

Soon after my return from the hospital this morning, I realized that this no-cussing thing could have some serious health consequences, many that I had not foreseen, which given my amazing powers of perception is in and of its self, odd.

Allow me to start my story, it started as one of a typical fall afternoon in Indiana, sun peeking over the mountain sides, the last of the summer’s flowers in bloom, and the ever present gentle breeze blowing down from the high meadows. It was five, after working in the salt mines all day; I thought to myself that for a bit of recumbence, some distilled sprits were in order. I then proceeded to a little place I know in our friendly harbor town, and placed my order with the tavern keeper who knows me by name.

Ok, who am I kidding…? I was in East Chicago, and ended up enjoying the Blade-Runner like scenery that is Gary, Indiana. After several hours of driving I was close to my home (I was volunteering with the local Lions Club Organ Donation program, northwest Indiana is a great source for free organs. But please! keep that in mind if you ever ask me to drive, my panel van has taken on what at times can best be described as the odor of a meat truck, that and there isn’t any beer in my coolers).

When, suddenly my cell-phone rang. It was Pastor Bob, calling to remind me that I had volunteered to drive the church bus and that the youth group outing to the Roller-Ram-A, was ready. (I know what you think, John Q., Didn’t you say you were a catholic? My answer, why, yes I am, and if you think I am a bad catholic, you should see what kind of Pentecostal I am, I mean, I don’t even like snakes, however…I am fond of Aramaic, and large women in polyester.

My former therapist thinks it goes back to a traumatic experience I had in the all boys elementary school I attended, involving a large lunch lady, but hey, come-on aren’t all lunch ladies large when your 8 years old, thus the second reason I quit seeing my therapist, the first having something to do with an involuntary commitment for 72 hours last month, and further more I don’t care what you or my probation officer say, I am not going back to her, skinny girls, they are all the same, even when they have PhD after their name.

So, after a long day on the road… I find myself behind the wheel of a 48 passenger Blue-Bird school bus circa 1968. with “Solomon’s Tribe” lead by Brother Tim and Sister Ruby (I can tell them apart because Ruby always wears these protestant girl culottes and no make-up, and Tim, has always struck me as one of Madonna’s dancers, or perhaps more like that guy they had dancing over at the “Meet-Market” last Wednesday, and you know what, they were right, his 10 o’clock show was all different from the 8 o’clock show, but that’s an aside. My point is the both give me the creeps). After about 25 minutes of weird kids asking me to help fit their stinky yellow sock covered feet into rented roller-skates all while the hits from the 80’s and today were blaring out of the sound system, only to be punctuated with shouts of, “girls only”, “boys only”, “all-skate”, I truly thought I was going to lose my mind, and there dear reader, is where my evening took an odd turn.

I left, and yes I took the school bus with me, it was a matter of my own good luck that the roller-skating rink (and why do they call it a rink anyway? how about something more accurate like flat enclosed concrete area to skate on, oh! after typing that, I can see why rink is a better term) is located on the by-pass, and luck of all luck, so are several strip-clubs and a few Asian heath spas. And, you know how I feel about the location of the viewing of political debates being tantamount to understanding the existential strife we Americans face every day. There was no way I was going to miss the last debate.

So, out of those clubs available, I picked, the Boob-Hill, a country western themed establishment, now I know what your thinking; huh? John Q, what are you doing in a country and western themed establishment? …and you would be right in doing so, dear reader; I am even un-comfortable with Ponderosa Steak houses, but please keep in mind, my mode of transportation, the bill board outside said; semi parking welcome ( do you know how long a school bus is?), thus with that key bit of information my decision was made, the die cast in a matter of speaking.

That, and I lied to Pastor Bob, I don’t have a CDL license, matter of fact I don’t have an Indiana drivers license, why do you think I volunteer at these places, well I will tell you why! What cop is going to pull over a panel van with the sign Lions Club International Organ Donation Response Vehicle, or an old bus with Greater Grace New Tabernacle Faith Church and Show Choir painted on the side? …and best of all they let me take them home! So needless to say I am less than skilled at parking that big thing, but fortuitously, there was a spot right in front.

I must have appeared visibility shaken, because the bartender and the bouncer both approached me upon my arrival, here is where I must admit, I was a little embarrassed. It seems that in my haste to flee, I had forgotten that I myself was wearing a pair of roller-skates, understanding why they though it odd, that a man would park a church bus in front of their bar, and get out wearing a pair of skates, I skated over to the bar, sitting down I proceeded to tell them about how I came to be in such a situation, including natural beauty of Gary, the Lions Club, the Church outing, my skates, the vow of not cussing for a week, and why I believe strip clubs to be ideal places to watch presidential debates.

Kindly, they agreed to let me stay, with the proviso that I don’t cause any trouble, at this point I could see the bouncer fingering his tooth necklace, I assured them, that I would be no trouble, none what-so-ever. The one draw-back to my plan so far had been that I would have to watch the event on closed captioning, however the ever present dollar dance eased my mind. I find that when driving church buses a combination of Absolute vodka on the rocks with double shots of Rumplemist go a long way to claming ones nerves, (and I would welcome any comments from my fellow church bus divers, on their self-medication of choice).

Needless to say, I enjoyed the debate, and was able to re-turn to the skating rink after only 7 attempts to call me, (it was loud in there, to the point that I still have the line “save a horse, ride a cowboy” going through my head) At my return, I apologized for my tardiness, explaining the long wait at the school bus oil change place. While driving back to the church, it first became evident, even to me…the un-mistakable scent of vomit in the stale air of that old bus.

Now I don’t know about you, but all I have to do is smell up-chuck and I am gagging, so try this on a belly full of top-shelf liquors and free miniature corn-dogs. It seems some of the Christian kids and at least one of the adults suffers from the same affliction. Here, is where I came close to cussing, after dropping everyone off at the church and making a suggestion to Pastor Bob and anyone else who could hear that perhaps, just perhaps, the snack of cold meat sandwiches and Jello -Surprise (what is it with Prots. and Jello anyway, you never see that stuff in a catholic home) followed by Sams Club sodas, pop rocks and physical activity was not a good idea. I left.

Driving up the long winding road to my estate, I had to turn up the radio (AM 1380) so not to hear the swishing sound emanating from the back of the bus. Now, I have to ask, have you ever tried to get off of a 1968 Blue Bird school bus, after consuming 6 vodkas on the rocks and at least 8 double shots of Rumplemist, while wearing a pair of roller skates, keeping in mind there is about a ½ inch of emesis on the floor of said bus? Dear reader, no easy task.

At which point, I come to the nearly tragic accident, I went into my humble home, changed out of my skates and showered, climbing the stairs and heading to bed. At, which point the beautiful Mrs. John Q, Public enters the story. It seems the Boy-Band she has been promoting tirelessly was taking a break from the county fair and National Guard Amory circuit, and she was in town, I however had forgotten to pick her up at the bus station, I told her that much like the Cubs and Notre Dame's football program, I can not be depended on to come through every time.

She asked me about my day, I quite truthfully I told her that there was no way I could tell her about my day with out cussing, so, she suggested I act it out, much like the game of charades, now I like any other mid-westerner am always up for a game charades or euchre, even after as trying a day as mine. So, I proceeded to jump up on the bed and act out my day, all with out saying a word, much I imagine like a mime on acid (and you know how I feel about mimes, like clowns, they freak me out) and Mrs. John Q. did good… up until, the getting off the bus part of my story, at which time, in my effort to act it out, I fell off the bed, in the process biting of the tip of my tongue, (for the sixth time in my life, however this was the first time I myself had done it).

Now, have you ever had your tongue bitten off? Let me tell you about the first thing they will ask you, when you walk in to ER bleeding like a stuck pig, holding one of those nice hand towels your mother-in-law made for your wedding gift to your tongue, attempting to hold it on. They will ask, and I quote. “What seems to be the problem?” I at that time I took the opportunity to reply: “Whaaff taouufk theniik havened tu me, I beeit mey fugggen tong off” Yes, dear reader… I broke, not even a full 24 hours into it, and I cussed, however… I will take some degree of privilege here, and say it doesn’t count because A) neither the ER nurse nor the attending physician, Dr. Ram Av-dual-I, an old chum from my med-school days back in the Bahamas, could understand what I was saying, and B) because they both quite honestly were idiots, this is were Mrs. John Q. made the suggestion to me, "well honey…why don’t you act it out for them" (of course she thought this most amusing). Thank-Goodness, I was able to use and indelible ink marker and a bed sheet to write my story down, I almost lost them around the part about the putting skates on kids feet, but they got the over all story. And, thankfully due to insurance, I was able to get treatment before passing out from loss of blood.

Which of course brings to me the debate, Kerry, Kerry, Kerry, oh, wait lets try this on, Pres. Kerry… kind make you giggle doesn’t it, ha! Ha! Ha! We are going to win! Now of course it would be different if it was say McCain/Powel, wow… what a world that would be… But you know what I say: Vote Kerry/Edwards, Vote Early, and Vote Often!

To-days Legal Fact:
Did you know that’s its illegal to transport a human body across state lines unless you are licensed to do so? It is in fact a federal offence, a violation of the Inter-State Commerce Act. Just thought you might like to know, I found out the hard way.

Quote of the day:
and yes, its the same guy, but he is so gosh-darn-friggen-good,

A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.

Sir Winston ChurchillBritish politician (1874 - 1965)


Dedication:
I want to give props to my favorite buckeye party girl, and say yes sweet-pea, it is hard, but I am a man of my word, granted for a week I have cut my functional vocabulary in half and my ability to form audible sentences.
Check the sweet thing out at~
http://lifelibertypursuit.blogs.com/