TCAHR - Better Living Through Memetics Issue 16 The Vegas Journals (Part One -- All Roads Lead To Vegas) 01/31/01 ------------------------------------------------------------ 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. ------------------------------------ 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. ------------------------------------------------------------ tcahr@hotmail.com Copyright 2001