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R TERRY (205.188.208.39)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, September 11, 2003 - 2:51 pm: | |
It was a relief to finally know by which means we were going home. The bus was sitting on a slight downward incline at the entrance to an alley unable to go forward even with the engine screaming. Actually, I was awash with relief! The manifest uncertainty of a trip in that bus would have been too much. Who wants to worry incessantly whether you're going to make it or not? This bus did not come with any guarantees, nor any peace of mind. It didn't even come with a paint job. (You call THAT a paint job? Next time, try using a ROLLER!)
At least I knew a few things now. The time frame for the remainder of our "Quality Time Vacation" was crystal clear: We were leaving in one hour (time me), and, because we were driving the pickup, we would get back home by Friday (Thank you, ELVIS! I mean, we were in Tennessee, as in Graceland, right?) And, we had a place to park the bus, so I didn't have to worry about that. (And to worry even less about it, we were entrusting the bus to a man who ate Moon Pies. See? There's just nothing to worry about.)
The night before, I thought it would be a meaningful gesture to patronize the coffeehouse owned by the gentleman who graciously baby-sat the bus for nearly a year, kind of a token appreciation. Ryan and I were in for a delightful surprise.
For Ryan, it may have been the first time he'd experienced anything like this. For me, it was major deja vu, like traveling back in time to Berkeley, California, where I got to watch a Jimi Hendrix album being recorded, and when, as a teenager myself, I went with my father to what he called the "hip" places in San Francisco. (My father never liked to call himself a "beatnik", which is what he was. He like to call himself an architect.) These establishments are, to this day, fairly routine around college campuses. True to form, there was a university not far from the coffeehouse.
As might be expected, there was seating outside for those who must be smoking at all times (I'm not sure how they do it, but these people also smoke in their sleep.) Inside, about fifty percent of the seating floorspace was dedicated to the "open mike", an area set aside for musicians, poets, and performance artists. It was nicely in-house equipped with an electronic keyboard, a bass guitar, an electric guitar, various percussion instruments like congas, bongos, tambourines, etc., and amplifiers, a PA and microphones. You're not going to find this at Starbucks.
The evening's jam session was well underway when we arrived. We found one unoccupied table, declared it ours by ordering a cherry Coke with some bizarre name, reading the local free press, and listening to would-be virtuoso musicians play the same song for an hour. A GROOVY time was being had by all (especially those who visited "the Landmark". You read the previous installments, right?)
For supper, the coffeehouse featured a positively scrumptious, killer lasagna, vegetarian or Italian sausage, with, for an Extra Charge, a dinner salad made from a fine selection of gourmet lettuce, cherry tomatoes, homemade croutons, and a delectable homemade dressing. Very tasty and most excellent!
But it was the Extra Charge for the salad that almost floored me: ONE DOLLAR! (Excuse me?) It didn't make sense. (What have they been putting in that coffee?)
I decided right then and there to stay in Tennessee and NEVER go back to Arizona. EVER. Never ever.
R TERRY |
Chuck MC8 (67.34.138.168)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Friday, September 12, 2003 - 5:27 am: | |
I'd have to agree with you. I live near Atlanta and travel to Tennessee quite often for business and fun. It is a beautiful place with friendly, caring folks who will help most anyway they can. |
The son (199.195.109.23)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Monday, September 15, 2003 - 10:15 am: | |
Amen. |
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