My head hurts, my body hurts, but I manage to answer the phone without a curse. Several associates from New York have come to town unexpectedly.
My head hurts, my body hurts but I manage to answer the phone without a curse….. Several associates from New York have come to town unexpectedly to fight a fire on Saturday. They know I am at this hotel and want me to go out with them tonight. Better judgment is not functioning yet and I agree – Oh hell, truth be known, I’m a sucker for a good time and would have went better judgment or not.
There are five of them but names are not important other than Johnny M.. I pulled myself together and a few hours later I’m cleaned up and off we go for a good steak dinner. The food gets my heart rhythm stabilized again and I’m beginning to feel a lot better as we set off for a few drinks. They want to go to a local establishment of some known repute called the Dancing Bear (I didn’t see no bear).
It’s a Country Western crowd complete with plenty of cowboy hats and boots….. The boys apparently chose this place to soak up the local color and chase Cowgirls. I personally can blend in if I have to. I like Country Western Music (two years in Texas and New Mexico will do that to you). I do a smooth Two-Step and can even Clog with a drink or two. But these guys are not blending and if its one thing Cowboys don’t like it’s Hippies and Newww Yorrrrrkers. But so far so good, trouble has been averted thus far.
The drinks had been rolling and still coming. In South Carolina they came in one and one half-ounce bottles, the kind you see on airplanes. These are stronger than the usual one ounce poor in other states. Their laws required that the customer see the bottle opened in front of them and therefore fifths and quarts behind the bar were not permitted. Truth be known, the waitress cracked the seal before they brought your drink so she could hold the tray with one hand and just spin the cap off with two fingers and poor it in front of you.
Johnny M. has been drinking his usual Vodka Gimlets and is feeling no pain by now. However, Johnny M. had another name when he drank Vodka Gimlets. After about the third one his voice would crackle and go up a few octaves and we called him Squeaky. He would also put aside his demure polite personality and become quite outspoken in his opinions about people, places and things. This is a bad combination at the O.K. Corral.
Out comes the live entertainment – One, Randy Trach from Oklahoma – a mountain of a man. He’s six four, two seventy five if he’s a pound. He does his show sitting on a bar stool with a guitar. The guy is really good and even does one of my all-time favorites, “Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother” by Ray Wiley Hubbard, sing-along and all.
Something catches Squeaky’s eye and it fascinates him. Randy is wearing a huge leather cowboy hat, well broken in, with the worn spots and creases all in the right places if you know what you are looking for. Squeaky’s comments thus far are confined to the table and all is well. But the talk to the audience part of the show is about to begin! …. “So where ya all-ll Fromm” to one table and then another, with appropriate conversation between the tables and the stage. Our table stands out like a pimple on a stripper’s ass. I could tell he was waiting on us for last! Finally it comes. “How about ya-all-l boys over tharrr? You from round these parts?” The big ape new damn well we weren’t and was going to have some fun!
Shit! That’s all I could think! I didn’t know where this was going but I did know it wouldn’t be pretty. Before I knew it Squeaky’s back in a shot with “Newww York City,” voice cracking and sounding like a cat with its tail under a bus tire. The room is laughing and booing. Squeaky pays no mind, he’s going to play with the big guy…. “So where did you get that hat?” “Randy is accommodating and says something about picking it up a few years ago in some place or other. He’s now taken it off to admire it himself and Squeaky is saying something about how big it is and how did you ever get it to fit. The room is now dead silent and I’m looking for the exit signs. “Where are the holes?”…. “Hoolles? Wha-da ya mean holes?”….. “You know. Where the Jack Ass’s Ears go through?” …… I kissed my ass goodbye and cursed the day Squeaky was born! The room shuffles for a good view of an anvil fist that must surely be coming directly on Squeaky’ head! –
Randy Trach starts to laugh a true belly laugh. Puts the hat back on and says, “I’ll be over to have a drink with ya-old boys in a minute. I never heard that one before.” He gets right back into his set, the room goes on about it’s business and I ordered a Rusty Nail (If you know the mix, it requires three of those little bottles. I needed every drop).
Randy is true to his word and comes directly over after his last song. There is much carousing and drinking and before you know it they are yelling last-call. South Carolina won’t serve after 1 AM (not then anyway) but you can order two doubles on last-call that will carry you over to 2 AM. And, of course, we did. There are now twenty-eight of those little bottles on our table if you can imagine it. Finally the well runs dry. Randy asks, “ would ya-all-l like to go get a bight to eat? I know a great little place near here with real good food.” And off we went.
The place is out on a back road and every shit-kicker musician in town is there and he knows most of them. Conversations are carried out across the room and there’s a pretty good noise level in the place for the wee hours. Since we’re with Randy no one is paying us much mind and that’s OK with me.
At about 3 AM I’m staring at my Grits. They are the only thing left on my plate and I’ve decided to let them sit. Randy will have none of it and is somewhat insistent that I eat my Grits. “You know what ya-all-l need is a good-ol southern girl ta-fix them up fer-ya” – He’s yelling to the far end of the room, “Victoria, hey Victoria, this ol-boy needs some fix-in on his Grits.” Here she comes with that southern smile and a, “Hey Randy, what-cha all-l got go-in on over here?” I won’t even try a description! Guys – think of an image of a girl that rings all your bells at the same time. Ladies – think of the woman you would hate on sight! Yep, that’s her… You got it. Let’s move on – Guys … Guys…, I said let’s move on…..you with me?
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