Chili Reanus's blog: "BUZZARD LADY..."

I had been out drinking PLENTY of times before. After all... I was 17, right? A co-worker/good friend and I left the drive-in theatre where we worked shortly after midnight, and headed to beautiful downtown Albany, Georgia for a li'l fun. Oh, yeah... we had a quart of vodka, too... didn't want to arrive at the clubs sober! My buddy assured me that he knew some bouncers who could get our ugly, under-aged asses in some places... I trusted him back then. We first stopped at a strip joint, but it seemed his "connection" wasn't on duty that night. Oh, well... didn't really want to see un-restrained, wildly-bouncing boobs, anyway (sure!). On to the next "sure thing"... same story at that place, too... hmmmmmmmmmmm. At least the vodka bottle was trust-worthy... and I was spending a lot of time with it at this point! All that running around in circles caused us to work up a bit of an appetite, so we went to the downtown Waffle House- hangout for the wired, weird, social and sexual desperados in this redneck community... we fit in rather comfortably that night. Things were just peachy until a cop walked in. He probably wasn't looking for anyone or anything in particular, and I REALLY don't think he was expecting what happened next. Usually cool under pressure, I paniced when I saw him (I guess vodka makes me paranoid), and bolted for the door! I vaugely remember what happened... I ran to a nearby hotel... went up the elevator... down the elevator... back out to the street... into the hands of the cop who had followed me out of the Waffle House... oops!!! The next things I recall were the sights and sounds of a city jail in the early morning hours... lots of cell doors slamming... lots of yelling and complaining... lots of urine hitting those VERY public urinals. Things weren't too bad, as I settled into an upper bunk... until the cellblock started spinning (good ol' vodka!!!) I leaned over and started puking all over the floor! Needless to say, the guards quickly escourted me out of the cellblock, and hurried me into the DRUNK TANK. This was basically a large rectangular room, with benches along the walls, a tile floor (like you'd expect in a shower stall), and a drain in the middle. I spent a couple of hours in there by myself, making damn sure I was finished with my not-so-dry heaves! When I felt better, I walked over to the thick steel door with the tiny window and started banging on it with my fist, until a guard let me out. He then put me in another cell, where I hadn't yet vomited on anyone, and I stayed there until breakfast. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh... raisin bran and milk, in one of those li'l boxes that you tear open and eat right out of!!! Just about that time, I was told that somone had come to bail me out... it was my brother, and the friend that I had gone downtown with. I guess he had driven to my house (that had been left in MY care when our folks left town for the weekend) and it didn't take them long to figure out where I had wound up. The bail was a whopping $20, and my li'l 15 year-old brother was paying it! I promised to pay him back out of my next paycheck... mostly because he said he'd rat me out if I didn't!!! To this day, my parents don't have a clue about that "event"... it's probably for the better... although they CERTAINLY know I wasn't an angel by ANY standards (nor was my brother)! That reminds me... I have a few other lurid stories of teenage debauchery to entertain you with. I'll save those for another time... stay tuned!

I was talking the other day with a friend of mine who's a local band promoter. The conversation soon turned to his recent business dealings. One of these involved a contract dispute with one Mephistopheles... AKA Satan, The Devil (he sometimes appears as a prominent politician.... but that's another story!). The dispute went unresolved because of the stubborn nature of both parties! Sooooooooo... as a result, this friend of mine has remained a free agent, and may charge whatever fees he so desires for his services. Well... not to be left out of the topic, I quickly mentioned that I once had a similar experience. I was recently approached by a circus monkey who expressed interest in having my band as his opening act. Things went horribly wrong when we demanded dried banana skins (for... ummmmmmm... medicinal purposes) as a signing bonus. The monkey FLEW into a rage, and began flinging fresh poop in our direction! Soooooooo... as a result, we were covered in fresh flying monkey poop. For some reason, at that moment, I felt that maybe this friend of mine had reached a higher level of status and accomplishment than I had... at least at that point in life... there's always tomorrow, though... right? :-)

Many years ago, when I was young and as free as a bird, I decided to take a trip-of-a-lifetime... a grand tour of the Sunbelt (Georgia-to-Arizona, in this case), via bicycle. This was no spontaneous, knee-jerk decision, though. It was a reaction to a similar trip that a friend-of-a-friend-of-my-brother had taken the previous summer, traveling from Georgia to New Hampshire. I trained long and hard for the journey, taking several short warm-up trips before the "Big One". One of these included a trip to the Gulf Coast of Florida, during which I was briefly stalked on the highway by a pickup truck-driving, "Deliverence" (the movie) Central-Casting-reject-swamp-dwelling-inbred-fat-ass-pervert-retard (can anyone say "You got a pu-u-u-u-u-rdy mouth, boy"???!!!)! I lost him sometime after his SECOND time passing me on the road. No biggie, but it was an ominous harbinger of things to come! Speaking of things to come... the "Big Day" to start the "Big Ride" came along, and I was prepared, mentally and physically. I said "Goodbye" to friends and relatives, and started my sojourn... one pedal-stroke at a time. This was my chance to show myself- and everyone else- that I could accomplish what few people would ever bother doing! The whole thing was pretty uneventful, until I entered Central Texas. After about 1,000 miles of bad weather and pothole-infested roads, I had started to lose some of my self-discipline, part of which included the unwritten rule of NO HITCH-HIKING!!! During one especially-windy day, I was passed by a flat-bed pickup (RED ALERT... ominous yahoo-driven truck in the middle of nowhere... again!!!). This time, to my temporary relief, it was driven by a strangely-attractive young female neo-hippie, who pulled over and asked if I needed a ride. I gladly said "Yes!", threw my bike in the truck bed, and placed my ass in the passenger seat! She quickly lit a joint and offered me a toke. I politely said "No, thanks", since I had recently decided to opt for clean living and clean lungs (I didn't completely lose my self-discipline on the lonely road). With this, she got back to the tedious task of driving. After a couple of miles, she suddenly started pointing wildly with her joint-holding fingers to something in a dusty field. I looked to the right, and noticed a couple of buzzards jumping around. OK... hmmmmmmm... whatever. Then she started explaining the significance of the event... something like "They're doing their mating dance!!!" she gushed with nearly-orgasmic glee! At this point, I was somehow reminded of the cult-classic, grade "B" horror-flick "Texas Chainsaw Massacre", since we were in... Texas. Oh, yeah... that, and she was getting excited over... large-winged carcass-eating love-birds! I tried to remain calm and cool about the whole episode... until I turned to my left, and she got IN... MY... FACE, and shouted "Squa-a-a-a-a-a-w-w-w-w-k, squa-a-a-a-a-w-w-w-w-k!!!" several ear-piercing times, while wildly flapping her arms, in an insane attempt to tempt me with the call of the wild! I must have shown no apparent interest, because she soon calmed down, and got back the business of... driving. A few miles farther down the highway, I asked her to stop at a fork in the road, got my ass out of the passenger seat, and my bike out of the truck bed. I said something to the effect of "Thanks for the ride", and waved "Goodbye" to my glassy-eyed "Angel of Mercy" as the strangely-attractive female neo-hippie swerved out of site. Then I continued my cross-country trek... one pedal-stroke at a time! LYRICS TO "BIRD WATCHING" Deep in the bowels of Texas I stood- watching the buzzards overhead. Along came a woman in a beat-up old truck- looking stoned and lonely- just my luck! There she was- my glassy-eyed angel of mercy... something told me those wings weren't angelic! With her raven hair, in the smoke-filled air, she sat and stared... at the birds! Don't get me wrong... I won't put her on trial, but she had this curious thing for fowl! When she suggested we give it a go-o-o-o-o-o-o, I ruffled her feathers when I said "No"! There she was- my glassy-eyed angel of mercy... something told me those wings weren't angelic! With her raven hair, in the smoke-filled air, she sat and stared... at the birds!!! music and lyrics copyright 2005 by Michael Lofton ... that's me, BTW!