Quandary 12

The dream was vivid. It was a version of me I hadn’t seen in too many years. There was a genuine smile on my face because I was surrounded by family and friends. I don’t ever have conversations in my dreams that I can remember so all I can recall is sitting in a room greeting people, some of whom I didn’t remember, but whom I had known before the drugs. There was persistent babble all around and it sounded like we were under water, but nobody was talking. Then I pulled out a meth pipe and started smoking it and everybody started to dwindle away. They weren’t mad at me, I could see them smiling as they faded into the black, but very quickly I was alone. The last person to leave was my mom. She was walking away and she turned back to look at me. She was still smiling at me when she turned into nothing.

I lay in the bed for a few minutes trying to analyze what happened in my dream. My alarm had gone off and I was fortunate enough to have had enough sleep to wake in a state of awareness. The thing I really cared about in the dream was my pipe which I reached under the pillow for. The only time the drug really had any effect on me was after a decent slumber, and a few hits made me tingle. I sat up in the bed and judged my surroundings. I saw my giant bag of crystalized methamphetamine sitting out in the open at the foot of the bed which was cause for concern. I’m not positive the manager poked his head in at some point, but I decided it was time for an early check-out.

The only things I ever made sure I had when I performed the evacuation procedure at a hotel were felonies which included my phone, drugs, and all paraphernalia to include scales, pipes, and the glass turntable from the microwave. I didn’t actually take the turntable, I just washed it off because I didn’t want to be responsible for an accidental poisoning. I opened up the door to darkness. It would prove to be another clean getaway for Vinnie the meth dealer.

I hit the road, this time with a buzz that would keep me awake for a few hours. I grabbed my fully charged phone and dialed the only number I knew by heart. It rang only once and was answered by a cheerful voice, “What the fuck do you want?” I replied to Seth, “Your sweet arse.” Silence. I continued, “We need to meet up. I have some ideas on how to deal with my little problem.” He sounded excited, “I assume you mean we get to kill them?” I let out a sinister laugh, “You’re God damned right we do!”

About 45 minutes later I pulled into Seth’s driveway in Fountain. I had lived in this town many years before and I always enjoyed reminiscing as I drove through. There was the Broken Hammer Bar and Grill that I had worked at for a number of years, the place I had met Crystal. There was the grocery store where I would buy the only bacon that I ever became addicted to. And there was the apartment above the pizza place where my life as a criminal began again many years ago. As I drove by I saw a camera I had mounted to the roof in a state of paranoia years ago. That camera had night vision which is how I saw the camera the police had mounted and faced toward my apartment a block down, the reason I left the town for good.

Seth’s house looked like everybody else’s house in the neighborhood except for the lawn décor. He had a number of used vehicles for sale in his driveway and on his lawn. To my knowledge, he had never sold one, but he was always working on them. I got out of my car and found him under the hood of an old Corolla. “Let’s go inside, we’ve got work to do.” He closed the hood and we headed inside.

The inside of his house was immaculate, and you could probably eat off of the floor if you ever decided to eat. We sat on his couch and suddenly a dog was in my lap and licking my face. It was if she appeared from thin air. I tried speaking through the K-9 assault, “Setrh, I nbeed a pristol.” I succumbed to the affection of the dog and rolled her over on her belly and gave her a good scratching. I repeated, “Seth, I need a gun.” He pulled a large caliber revolver from his waistband and handed it to me.

The Cruise Part 1

As with most events in my life that weren’t dated with a mugshot, or a stack of legal paperwork, I have no real idea when I went on my cruise. It was more than ten years ago, and it wasn’t last week. I was a drunken mess the whole time, and I nearly drowned. Also I saw a monkey.

The few pictures I have from the cruise are only around because, for some reason, MySpace still survives. I can’t log into my account, but I can copy pictures from my page.

This all started when a girl I was dating suggested we go together. We became close very quickly, and after an only brief friendship, began dating. It was a disaster, and only a month in, it all fell apart. Here’s the thing, we still had Caribbean Cruise tickets, and mine was worth over $2,000 alone, so we were going. I almost wish I hadn’t.

I had started drinking only a few weeks before the trip after nearly five years of sobriety. I was depressed because I was single again, and had lost whatever happiness I had found after years of finally making the right choices. The point is, that I had picked up where I had left off with drinking, and almost immediately started drinking to blackout every night. I’ll get to it:

We left Rochester at 4am for the Minneapolis airport, I had parked my car at a friend of Angie’s (the ex) and she would drive us to our flight. Blah, blah, blah… We arrive in Florida, wait for two stupid hours for a shuttle to take us to a line that we stand in for two more stupid hours, and finally we board the ship. One person at a time, over 2,000 people. F.M.L. Finally, at 6pm we start the safety whatever meeting where we all learn how to use life jackets. It was like an hour-long version of the seat belt speech on an airplane. 7:30, we hit the road. The road made of water. 

Forever one of my favorite pictures. This was taken on the first night from either the bow, or the stern of the massive ship. Whichever one of those terms means the front.

The ship was colossal; I can’t think of a better word for it. And, it had everything you could possibly want or need. Several casinos, a hundred themed bars, too many restaurants, some free some not, a full gym, swimming pools, various clothing shops, duty-free stores, and more. The first night we just walked and walked, taking it all in. I grabbed a Foster’s and that became my theme as far as beer went for the extent of the trip. The first night, I didn’t black out.

Day two was all ocean. We took advantage of what the ship had to offer, for me that was sitting by pools with colorful drinks the size of fishbowls, and getting some sun. Sun+booze= Derrrrrrrr. I know I took a nap because I was told by somebody that I should be presentable for the formal dinner that evening. Well, I wouldn’t want to make a scene.

Taken in one of the never-ending hallways of the cruise ship on the second night just before the first formal dinner.

The formal dining hall was, and still is, the most charming, elegant setting I have ever eaten in. Seating was assigned, and we were placed with other Minnesotans for the three proper dinners of the trip, it was pretty cool. Lobster, beef tenderloin, other things, stuff, it was all delicious. And I only had a glass of wine because I was classy. A few hours later I was escorted back to my room because I was found blabbering in a hallway well after everything had shut down for the night. I woke up with my tie still on in the morning.

Day three: Mexico. I remember very little of Mexico because they have Tequila. I love Tequila. I love Tequila. Did I say that?

I love this picture. This was my view from a bar stool at the port bar in Costa Maya, Mexico.

We went on a four-wheel excursion where we saw a monkey in a tree from restricted vehicles. I mean, these things wouldn’t go over 30, and they still made us wear helmets. Also, I had to pretend not to be drunk at 11am, which is stupid, because I was hammered drunk because they sell drinks everywhere!

This bar is where Angie opened up and told me that not only did she never want to get back together, but she had found somebody else. He was married, and had a kid on the way. Also she had been with him while we were briefly dating. Also she had been with her ex-boyfriend.  “Camarero, uno mas, por favor!”

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Fountain

I took this picture just North of the Oronoco exit on Highway 52 yesterday on my way down to my old home in Fountain.

Upon seeing the sign for the city limits of Fountain, my mind filled with mixed emotions, both excitement for seeing friends that I hadn't seen in years, and dread for seeing my old places of employment and driving by my old apartment where I did/sold meth before I went to prison.

The good outweighed the bad and I arrived at Seth's place shortly after 8am. We talked for a while, and within an hour, my cheeks hurt from laughter. We decided to round up the dogs and head out to his family campground where we used to play yard games, and drink excessively. I had purchased a new Wiffle bat for the occasion because I wanted to play my favorite game there, Campground Baseball.

I got a pretty good shot here. The yellow ball appears to be hovering mid-air, but has been released by the pitcher and is on the way to home plate which is the chair. The batter is Seth's brother, and the pitcher is his son. 

This is from the outfielders viewpoint. Originally, the game was played by only Seth and myself, and the dogs were the outfielders. The game would never have existed without a dog to get every hit/missed ball. Thank you Willie.

This is Audrey, Seth's kid. She's ten years old now, and has been my favorite kid in the world since she was just one. I wrote to her many times while I was away, and she wrote me back. I was so happy to see her smiling face yesterday. Love ya kiddo!

We played baseball, talked, and cooked over a cherry wood fire. Friends came and went, and the time flew by so quickly. I could have used 12 more hours. I decided to share a picture of these mini cheesecakes that Chelsey, Audrey's mother, made in honor of my visit. One was s'mores, and the other Reese's. They were fabulous, and I gained at least one pound yesterday just from them.

This little guy here, that's Dan-O. Dave and Allyssa are two very good friends of mine, and while I was in prison, they made a baby. I'm not sure how, but they said it was really fun. Daniel is one of the happiest kids I've ever seen with a constant mischievous grin on his face. He sat still long enough for this picture, and was moving around for the rest of the day. Go, go, go!

Yes I had a great day. I had no cravings for drugs or alcohol. Driving through Rochester on the way back was tough. I saw so many places I had done bad things. I drove by the junk yard where I woke up going 70mph backwards and somehow didn't injure myself. I could see so many of the hotels I stayed in along the highway where I sold meth and went crazy. Every exit I passed I could recall certain places or situations on or near those roads that made me so grateful that I am not bound by those chains anymore. I don't like Rochester. Rather, Rochester shouldn't like me. I don't think I ever made one rational decision in all of the years that I lived there. I'm glad they made a highway that goes right through it. 

I'm looking forward to going back to Fountain. It still felt like home.

Jobs Part 4

What started as an idea for one post has really taken off. It's bringing back a lot of memories, and I'm rolling with it. But I do have a small concern... I haven't seen or heard a comment or any feedback from anybody in quite a while, and my numbers are down. Is anybody reading this stuff anymore? I wonder if the subject matter has become boring or perhaps redundant. I don't seek constant approval, but it would be nice to know if anybody's still out there.

So, where was I? Ahhh yes, the gas station. I was let go by an employee, not the boss, because too many drive-offs were occurring on my shifts. "How could that be my fault!" I'm sure I declared. Well, it certainly was, as nearly every gas theft report was forged by yours truly (me). So off I went.

It was around that time that I was arrested for my first felony, and kicked out of the home I was living in. This is also around the time I started drinking instinctively, and had my first run-in with crack and cocaine. Needless to say, my jobs were few and far in-between for a while. I did briefly work at an Applebee’s where I never stole anything, and quit because I hated working there. I then served as a sales clerk at a Mervin’s California where I was fired for stealing, and an Office Max where I was caught red-handed stealing but never fired. I was in the warehouse there the day Gary Anderson shanked the field goal against the Atlanta Falcons in the playoffs.  I left that job to move to Richfield with my girlfriend, where I was hired as a full time employee of the Sherwin-Williams Company. I sold paint as you might imagine, and I did custom color matches which I happened to be very good at. I also forged returns, took paint and supplies out the back door, and even broke in once by driving drunk through the plate-glass front doors in hopes of going inside and stealing a paint sprayer. It didn’t happen, I was too drunk to get my seatbelt off so I simply backed up and drove back down Penn Avenue to my apartment where I probably drank more and floundered in self misery. I was a mess. They did finally catch on to my shenanigans and I was terminated for lying about my felony on my application. Again, they couldn’t actually pin anything on me, so they fired me on a technicality. Shortly after that I was arrested for attempting to burn that apartment down.

For a while I was jobless. Penniless. Homeless. All but lifeless. I went to treatment again. It failed again. I don’t have any clue how long I was lost. I do know that when I resurfaced, I was ready to give treatment a real effort, and that I did.

I went to Hazelden for four months and moved to Florida as part of my aftercare program. I can tell you that for the next four years, I did not steal a thing from anybody, anywhere. I did get fired from The Boulevard restaurant on A1A in West Palm beach for a catering mishap that was not in any way my fault. They needed a head to roll, and it was mine. I quickly applied for a job with Divosta Homes, and spent the next seven months assembling cabinets in an oppressive warehouse. I actually kind of liked it, and the plan was to work there for a while once I went back home to clear up my warrants. But that would never happen. I had to stay in Minnesota, where I got a job with a company that seemed right up my alley. A place where I would spend a lot of time, in a way, giving back what I had so freely taken for so many years. A job that I was so committed to, I moved to Rochester from St. Paul, where I ended up relapsing and going down yet another spiral of disaster. What job? You’ll just have to wait until the next post.

Bon Voyage (Fort Meyers Part 6)

Our last few days would prove to be filled with misadventure, drunken laughter, and endless miles of walking with all of our belongings. We were only half way through our vacation when the urge for our favorite pastime became strong. We liked to smoke weed, but we were under the impression at the time that it was a felony to possess any amount in Florida. Now I know we were wrong, as any amount under 20 grams is simply a misdemeanor.

Anyhow, we happened upon a gentleman on our way back from a game that appeared to be exactly a drug dealer. We worked up a small amount of courage to talk to him and he said he could help us out. He walked back to our hotel with us and that’s where things started to get a little fishy. He started using the hard stuff right in front of us. I say hard stuff because I can’t remember what it was, only that it seemed like an odd way to do whatever it was. Something like smoking OxyContin off of tin foil. He began making a series of calls which we would later discover didn’t exist, and he worked out a deal to get us some grass. He left with our money and never returned. Fuck.

Later that night, while we were at the bar, I slipped out and went on a mission to find some. It took me, alone, about fifteen minutes to come back with a $20 bag of what the guy called the “Crippie”, which is supposed to be the best weed in Florida. Well, it was your standard Mexican schwag, but it was good enough for me so I went and informed Seth. We realized that we didn’t have the means to smoke so we had to get creative. I believe the apple came from the free breakfasts we’d been hoarding and we carved a couple ill-placed holes and it worked. We had found our happiness. Every night after smoking, Seth would take a small bite out of the apple to quell his munchies. By the last night, the apple looks as if it suffered from leprosy. End scene.

We waited outside the players exit after game two, hoping to get a ball filled with autographs. We waited, and waited, and we waited. Either the players had slipped out a more discreet exit, or they weren’t coming out. Until, a small man who would become legend to us came shyly out, carrying too much to handle in his hands, and quite happily began signing various wares. Ben Revere was with the Twins for only a short while but he made quite an impression with us with his outfield acrobatics and speed on the base paths. 

 Me holding the ball in anticipation of the only autograph we would get on the trip.

I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but the last few days while at the hotel, we spent a lot of our time with some guys that were staying there from Philly. They weren’t there for baseball, but for construction. They were vile, quick-tempered, dirty, and we loved them right away. It seemed as if every conversation would push them to the periphery of fighting. They loved drinking and getting high as much as we did, and they seemed to like our Minnesota nice, I’m sure a big change from their friends back home. We partied every night. We left our doors open to each other’s, and we wandered back and forth and enjoyed the company. I don’t remember their names, but I will always remember their hospitality. 

If you can't quite see it, the shirt says, "This shirt is only blue when I'm thinking about dwarves."

 

Our last day should have killed us. We packed our belongings and headed out to return our bicycles and walk to the stadium for the last game of our trip. They were playing the Cardinals, our rivals from the ’97 Series. So we began our adventure. We walked, and walked, and we walked some more… in the wrong direction. A small mistake that wouldn’t make us exactly late for the game, but our seats were, to say the least, obstructed. Behind a wall, actually. To be even more specific, it was standing room only, and our view was of a concession stand. We could hear the game. But I was so exhausted from a three hour walk with all of our possessions, that I didn’t care. I found a stool to sit on and I didn’t move for the entirety of the game. We lost and I didn’t care. I wanted to go home.

Our plan, to save some money, was to sleep at the airport like you see in movies, because airports don’t close, right? Well, sort of. We checked in for our flight 13 hours ahead of schedule. We sat at the bar and had a couple drinks, but didn’t buy any duty free liquor to get us through the night because for some reason we thought we might have a good night’s sleep.

Looking back, I can see the blue plastic chairs, something I would get accustomed to later in life. We tried all night to find comfort in different locations and positions, but sleep would not come. We were alone in the airport except for the night cleaning crew, and a lone security officer on a Segway. In principle, that airport didn’t close, but it was a long, lonely night, that I have since put out of my mind because it was a terrible end to an otherwise incredible vacation.