
           TCAHR - Better Living Through Memetics

Issue 16
The Vegas Journals
(Part One -- All Roads Lead To Vegas)               01/31/01
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1-7-01 6:30ish
Figures.  Got to the Greyhound station an hour early just
so that I could sit around for an extra hour.  I did have
one interesting conversation with a guy from Germany.  I
thought I was travelling far!  Seems he traveled from
Germany to Chicago by plane, train, and bus just to go to
Moline, IL.  MOLINE?!  Who the Hell travels to Moline from
across the Atlantic Ocean.  We talked about travelling,
martial arts, and bouncing.  It seems that in Germany,
bouncers used to have the same rights as policemen.  Last
year, a law was passed reducing their powers to that of
security personnel.  He then showed me his bouncer card.
Imagine that!  An official bouncer with the backing of the
law (#1).  I know a lot of bouncers I'd hate to see have a
card like that.  Hell, I'd hate to see me with a badge like
that.  Then again, that's Germany, not the big violent U.S.
of A.  I'm guessing by the look of my fellow passengers I'm
in for a long and loud ride.

1-7-01 9:30ish
I think we're at the Wolcott, Ohio truck shop now.  It's
been two hours and I already want to kill someone.  There
was this woman who bitched in line about people, bitched
about the time and now bitches every time a child cries.  I
guess she thought Greyhound was all about luxury!  Anyway,
I'm to the point that I'm already murdering her in lots
of ingenious and not-so-genius ways.  Another of my
fellow passengers is giving us a fantastic comedy show; the
man snores like a stuck bulldozer!  Trying to sleep on the
bus, I was struck by the beauty of the flat fields covered
in snow.  This with the thought of my hands around that
whiner's neck made trying to fall asleep that much nicer.

1-7-01 11:30ish
Awoken five minutes before arriving in Des Moines, Iowa
by some pretty bad driving.  Okay, it wasn’t bad enough to
kill.  Just bad enough to wake up everyone on the bus.
Fast turns and hard braking eventually led to crying babies.
I saw one building that was cool as we decked into the
station.  Wasn’t worth getting off for.  Wasn’t worth
wasting this ink either.

1-7-01 12:30ish
Our 15 minute stop in Des Moines has now hit the 1hr 30min
mark.  I find myself worrying about my reservation,
calculating time differences over and over in my head.  The
guy across from the aisle is named Chris.  Chris is, and he
hates this term, a raver.  Five minutes after serious
discussion, he flashes me a really big vial of acid.  Seems
he's carrying that, 15 bowls (?) of weed, and $1,000.
Sounds like a good person to know.  The attitude on the bus
is getting testy (duh!).  At least I have a brand spanking
new cheapo camera.  I thought about clicking a pic of this
lousy condition, but when you've seen one Greyhound fuck-up,
you've seen them all.

1-8-01 4:00am
Omaha, Nebraska.  I've never seen so many ugly slack-jawed
hicks in my life.  That’s pretty amazing when you consider
all the time I’ve spent down south.  Everyone had to get off
the bus so it could be cleaned.  I’ve yet to introduce
Cynthia.  She’s a weird one.  She’s already bragged about
"Daddy" buying her a car, doing drugs to impress Chris, and
she’s carrying around a large stuffed monkey.  I also could
have sworn I heard monster metal ballads blasting out of her
Walkman.  Other than her weak chin, there’s nothing else
special about her(#2).  I wonder if I look around this crowd
whether I’ll find any past members of "Hee-Haw"?

1-8-01 4:27am
Chris is turning out to be an interesting passenger.  Seems
me, him, and Cynthia have become an unofficial trio.  Chris
met three other ravers here.  A chick with dreads, a guy
with blue hair in a leather jacket, another garden-variety
one (#3).  They're heading to Chicago!  Strange how close these
"ravers" are.  If Goth was like that, I'd still be wearing
velvet and ruffles!

1-8-01 early am - sun rising
Just woke up thanks to our new driver's stunt driving.
Jesus, does this company scout their drivers?  News?  Seems
Chris "accidentally" dosed himself at the last station(#4).
Him and Cynthia went out and lit up, I played guard -- after
taking pics of the sunrise.  After that sleep, I'm beginning
to feel good and pretty damn excited.

1-8-01 12:00pmish Mountain
I now realize that the majority of us on the bus have been
surrounded.  The front of the bus is property of an 11+
family.  The back of the bus is now the domain of a family
of four where the only form of communication is yelling.
Luckily I've spent most of the day asleep, instead, of
course, for those moments of ear-piercing screaming and the
scent and the scent of baby shit.  Our old codger of a bus
driver has made it a point to hit on a pretty (somewhat)
30ish-40ish redneck complete with Harley Davidson baseball
cap and a pretty nice rack.  In Omaha, where she joined our
group, me, Chris, and Cynthia were talking about using coats
as pillows.  That's when "Harley" piped in "I've got mine"
and opened her coat to flash her tits(#5).  Strangely refreshing
to say the least.  Chris freaks out the family behind us by
dancing all trancey-raver like in his seat.  I know they
immediately thought drugs.  I guess they would have to be
proclaimed right even thought their evidence is just
dancing.  Ahhh!  Modern conformity!  Someone just pointed
out the Rocky Mountains in the distance.  Now all I need is
the desert!

1-8-01 3:45 Mountain
Been in Denver three hrs. I hate this place already.  This
place has a weird urban wasteland feeling, kind of as if I
stepped into a fancier Detroit(#6).  There's good-looking
people, good-looking buildings, good-looking streets.  But
the businesses are all closed up and empty in the mall and
there really seems to be nothing to do.  It reminds me of
a saying I heard once "American smiles are like American
fruit--big, flashy and devoid of taste."  Yup, you could
easily say the same about Denver.  So other than a quick
smoke in a stairwell for the other two and a semi-run-in
with two hillbillies vagrants, Denver was a total bust.
Cynthia has gotten on the bus to Colorado Springs, so we're
down to two now.  She's a good kid, right down nice in
fact(#7).  Kinda sorry for my earlier first judgement.
Guess in the end I'm just another Goth snob.  Oh yeah, when
we arrived here, the bus driver called that woman he was
flirting with by her first name.  It was Jeri.  Old man
works fast.

1-8-01 about 5:45pm Mountain
I'm finally on the bus.  There's a big crowd waiting to get
in.  This is going to suck.  Turns out that the whiner's
husband/boyfriend was a Gangster Disciple from Chicago.  He
left in '93 because things were getting too hot for him and
he was worried for his mother.  This is the first time he's
been to Chicago in years.  There's an extremely sexy blonde
in line waiting to come in and I'm remembering that Neal
Cassidy would have probably gotten a hand job under a
blanket by now(#8).  Man!  To return to simpler and more
degrading times!  I sat through a discussion between Chris
and the GD on Trance-Rave/Hip-Hip dancing and wouldn't you
know I'm already wondering how can I fuse those dance
concepts into Goth(#9).  Could be a lot of fun.

1-8?-9?-01 Who knows?  No watch.
Woke up in a tunnel which was long and winded like a snake.
It was pretty interesting.  Then the tunnel stopped and the
first word out of my mouth was an awed "wow!"  I found
myself face to face with the Rockies.  This mountain range
is everything I've wanted to be.  I might as well seen the
face of God(#10).  I don't care about the discomfort now.
All of this was worth it!

1-9-01 12:05am
Waiting again, this time at Grand Junction, Colorado.  Saw
the Grand Mesa, which although beautiful and graceful, is a
tad unimpressive after travelling through the Rockies.
Before this we waited at Eagle, Colorado and before that we
stopped for a smoke in the Rockies.  This is getting
silly(#11).  Ten hours (hopefully) to go.  Wish the sun was
up so I could see the desert properly.

1-9-01 6:15am
Truck stop in Utah.  Spent most of the time looking for my
Yin-Yang button.  Spent more time looking for my Andy Warhol
button.  While sitting outside, I saw a car drive up which
just made me laugh.  White car with the license plate "919
KLU".  I guess they're not too subtle here in the sticks.  I
wonder what he thought of my crossed-out swastika button and
my "destroy fascism" patch.  Would you believe Chris met
another raver?  She was quite the little cutie.  She shared
one story about stripping in Vegas and kicking a guy who
touched her in the head.  Nine stitches.  She also told us
about a passenger on her bus who kept touching his dick
while looking at her.  Also talked with a Punk outside who
had a Black Flag tattoo on his head.  While Chris and the
girl talked about breakin' me and him discussed the fine
points of moshing and skagging.  Greyhound--chariot of the
counter-culture.  Oh yeah, the Punk looked like Tank Abbot;
a look which seems to be going around(#12).

1-9-01 8:00amish Pacific
Less than 100 miles to go.  As soon as we crossed the Nevada
state line, out popped the casinos.  The town was named
Mequiste (sic), like the bar-b-que chips.  Been watching
these desert mountains for a while now.  Not to be a total
bastard or anything, but I now realize why portable
televisions were created.  The desert is nothing more than
expansives of brown rock peppered with plants that look like
green tribbles from Star Trek.  I've seen paint dry with
more action than this.

1-9-01  11:00amish
Vegas.  I nearly busted my ass thrice on the sidewalks on
the Fremont Experience.  The streets are slick with rain.
Eventually after much huffing and puffing, I arrived at the
Ogden House wearing my heavy coat and lugging my big bag.
I'm all unpacked and ready to wash the two day funk off this
body after the end of this sentence.
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NOTES

(1) This was followed by a story about one of his bouncer
    associates tying a troublemaker to a chair in the back
    of a club and beating him for about half an hour.

(2) I know, I know.  Sounds like a stupid thing to point
    out, but I've only seen another chin like that on an
    associate I had in the Army.  It was kind of like there
    was no jawline; just a chin and then a neck.

(3) He just seemed like your average pot-smoking hippie.

(4) I know nothing about drugs.  He was pouring a drop of
    acid on a piece of tissue paper for a kid buying from
    him and the acid splashed on him.  He says this is one
    way to get high on acid.  What the Hell do I know?

(5) She was wearing a T-shirt, you pervos!

(6) However, I consider Detroit much more run-down and, yet,
    strangely cool as fuck.

(7) I certainly wouldn't have had the patience nor the
    demeanor to play stuffed monkey attack for an hour and
    a half with a bunch of ankle-biters on a Greyhound bus!

(8) My libido seems to act up on trips; some of my female
    friends may find this entry or my admission of having a
    libido shocking.  No, the blonde never got on our bus.
    Besides, I'm too much the cowardly Beta-male to have
    even spoken to her something anyway; especially with the
    rather large man behind her who ended up being her
    boyfriend.

    Neal Cassidy is, of course, of beatnik fame.

(9) I still catch myself sometimes trying out Chris' moves
    in the mirror!

(10) There are some sights best kept to one's self.  Sorry,
     this is one of them.

(11) This bus driver just loved his smoke breaks.

(12) Good old Tank Abbot of Ultimate Fighting Championship
     fame.
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tcahr@hotmail.com                             Copyright 2001



