I sit now, perched atop a wobbly stool at one of those tall tables that signify the bar section of a restaurant. I have put a lot of miles on today; this morning I awoke within earshot of the breakers in Ocean Beach, and now I sit not far from the Rio Grande.
Note: Wearing boxers and a new pair of Levi’s is not good if you’re going to be behind the wheel for thirteen hours.
I finally got all my chores done out in California, and most of my bases touched. I didn’t manage to see all the people I was hoping to see, and some of the meetings were terribly brief, but it was a good side trip. I’ll get up to Northern California on my next trip. The book tour – yeah, that’s the ticket. (Soup Boy reports that no rejection letters have reached my pad in Prague, which must mean that I’ve been accepted by everyone.)
Other than the pants thing, no great insights came from the day’s travels, no epiphanies struck as the miles slid past. I thought of a good setting for a story, but not the story to put in it. I had a green chile and bean burrito in Winslow, but while the sauce was satisfyingly spicy, there weren’t actual green chiles in it. Now my intestines are tying themselves in knots.
This is a peaceful bar, a local’s place, nice but not ferny. Not the kind of place people bring laptops, but none of the places I go are, until I get there to set the new precedent. Ben Folds is singing about his girlfriend the brick. People are laughing, and some of the people are pretty drunk. It is early yet, but I don’t feel like looking anyone up here in town tonight. I’m tired. Hanging with Amy wasn’t nearly as draining as it has been in the past, but now it’s time to hole up in an undisclosed location for a few hours. Tomorrow I have a bazillion things to do, and the next day I fly back to Prague, so this is my last chance for a while.
Addendum: While sitting here, working on a short story, I have finally heard “Bad Day” in the US. Regular readers know it as “You Wrote a Bad Song“.
Buy green chili seeds in NM and take them back to Prague.
You could become the Czech legend “Jerry Chiliseed”.
The precedent you set by spreading the green chili gospel may prove even more important than the precedent of lap tops in bars.
Welcome back to New Mexico! Have you hooked up with Lee?
Bob,
If you have an egg timer on me for “lap dancing in bars” comment, please ring it now at 6 hours, 40 minutes.
Safe journeys, Jer.
Subject A: I was in REI a couple days ago, and noticed they have small single serving backpacking sized containers of green chili sauce. It’s organic, and it’s from New Mexico.
Question B: What are you driving from New Mexico to San Diego and back again? You’ve mentioned that you still have the Miata: is it stored in New Mexico for you to use any time you have the need, like the Batmobile?
The Miata lives in San Jose, where it’s being fostered by one L. Bruce “Buggy” Miller. Until Buggy leaves for Europe in the Spring, following the harvest… that is, the World Cup. The current plan is that I will then kennel the Miata.
I drove a ’93 Saturn. Not as sexy, but it’s a little workhorse. (Workpony?)
As I was packing I grabbed a few cans of the green from the parent’s larder. Mom commented that any time they pack the little cans they open their bags on the other end to discover the little notice saying the bag has been inspected.
Sure enough, when I got to Prague I found the notice in the bag with the chile cans.
Yes, those little cans of green chile, when scanned in an airport x-ray machine, look way too much like something a terrorist might use.