THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART VII - "WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE?"
So, off we sped, into the East Tex-ass night, another successful kidnapping under our belts! We were unstoppable! David, our newest victim, was lying on the floor of the VW van, crying and whimpering about his busted lip. In spite of his apparent distress, Jim lectured David, "Don’t you ever grab the steering wheel again! You could’ve killed us! If you think your lip hurts now, you just try doing that again!" David stayed quiet and seemed resigned to his fate as our captive, at least for the time being.
Jim drove us out of Houston. After a while, he asked if I could take over as our driver. No problem! I was happy to drive, it was something to occupy my time during the long drive. We pulled over and swapped positions. Jim hopped up into the shotgun seat. While we were driving down I-10 toward El Paso, Jim rolled up a couple of "hooters." Shortly thereafter, we stuck a Grateful Dead cassette into the tape deck and "burned them down."
Ah, life was good! Driving down the road with a buzz on, listening to the Dead, one happy kidnapping victim and one no-so-happy kidnapping victim in the back, the van’s purring like a kitten, everything was going great.
Everybody in the back, Jim, Carmen, Michael, David, and the two dogs, Francisco and Marbles, fell asleep after a couple of hours. I was the "Lone Ranger" driver; all I had to do was stay on I-10. This seemed like a simple enough task, just keep going straight. How hard could that be? Apparently, it was a little to hard for me. Actually, I did "just keep going straight"; I just didn’t keep going straight on the highway that I was supposed to be going straight on.
Somewhere in San Antonio, I missed a turn that would’ve kept me going west on I-10. However, in my tired and skull-baked condition, I didn’t even notice that I wasn’t on the interstate anymore. I do remember having this somewhat vague feeling that something just wasn’t quite right, but I never did "snap" to the fact that I was only on a two-lane US Highway, instead of a four-lane divided Interstate. So, I just kept on driving straight on into the Texas night until I ran into…Mexico! "Hmm, maybe we’ll just stop here."
We were lost, I had no idea where we were or how we had gotten there. I pulled over and stopped. Everybody woke up, but no one was rested enough to take over as driver. Jim and Carmen were a "little miffed" that I had gotten us lost. We decided to camp for the night where we were. Jim and Carmen had brought a pop-up cabana-style shade structure, with mosquito netting around the sides, which we set up out in the desert. My brother Michael, David, and I all slept on blankets on the ground inside the cabana, along with the two dogs.
Jim and Carmen essentially kicked us all out of the van so that they could "have some privacy." I don’t think David had ever gone camping in his entire life. Needless to say, he was less than thrilled about sleeping outside on the ground. Neither my brother or I were exactly thrilled about it either, but that was the best we could do under the circumstances. To this day, when my brother tells his version of this story, he still talks about "having to sleep on the ground in the desert with the dogs."
As we were packing up the following day, Carmen and I got into a heated argument. Carmen was pissed off that we had gotten lost and asked me, accusingly, "So, how did we get lost last night, Steve?" I shrugged my shoulders, "I dunno. I guess we took a wrong turn somewhere in the middle of the night." Carmen: "What do you mean, ‘we’ took a wrong turn? What’s this ‘we’ bullshit?! Don’t you mean ‘I’ took a wrong turn? Don’t you mean ‘I’ got us lost?! Be a man Steve, come on, take responsibility for your actions, admit it, YOU GOT US LOST!" Me: "Alright! I took a wrong turn! I got us lost! You know what else though? You can kiss my ass too Carmen! Don’t tell me how to ‘be a man!’ You don’t know shit about ‘being a man’, so don’t even pretend like you do!" This of course made her even madder, her face was beet-red; she was so pissed! I didn’t really give a fuck if she was pissed or not, I just thought, "Fuck her! She doesn’t know shit about ‘being a man’!"
I have to add at this point that Jim and Carmen both have "Alpha" type personalities. They were constantly butting heads, arguing, and getting into shouting matches. On the other hand, when things were good between them, they had a very "passionate" love for each other. Physically, Jim was about 6ft 2in tall, about 190 lbs, with dark hair, a short beard and "swarthy" features. Carmen was kind of short and muscular, with olive skin and medium-brown hair.
In contrast, I don’t necessarily have a full-on "Alpha" type personality, although I do have some alpha qualities. I would describe myself as a "live and let live", "you treat me with respect and I’ll treat you with respect" kind of guy. However, two of my fundamental rules are: (1) I don’t take shit, and (2) I don’t kiss ass. So, naturally, when Carmen started giving me a bunch of shit for getting us lost, I not just going to "take it"; I was going to fight back. That’s just the way my parents raised me!
Astrologically, if you believe in that stuff, we were all "earth" signs. I’m Capricorn, Jim was Virgo, Carmen (and my brother Michael too) were both Taurus’s.
Eventually we calmed down and regained our composure. We made breakfast, but David wouldn’t eat anything. He said he "wasn’t hungry." We thought he wouldn’t eat because he was pissed off about being kidnapped and was being "passive-aggressive." He was a bit sullen and did have a big ol’ swollen lip. After a couple of days, we found out the real reason why he wasn’t eating, but more on that later.
Anyway, we drove around that morning and eventually figured out that we were in a little town called Del Rio, Texas, right on the Rio Grande and close to the Mexican border. Right across the border from Del Rio was a little town called Ciudad Acun~a, or the City of Acun~a (the little tilda ~ should be above the ‘n’ in Acuna). A little history on Acuna is in order. Acuna was the town where radio DJ Wolfman Jack became nationally famous on 250,000-watt Mexican radio station XERF in the early 1960’s. Apparently, XERF was five times more powerful than any US radio station and could be heard in something like 2/3 of the United States. XERF and Wolfman Jack were featured in the 1970’s film "American Graffiti" and in the ZZ Top tune "Heard in on the X." Now back to the story.
Since we were so close and none of us had ever been to Mexico, we decided to walk across the border crossing into Acuna. Also, we could get a cheap pair of tennis shoes in Mexico for David, since we had forgotten to pack a pair of comfortable shoes for him when we packed up his shit before we kidnapped him. That morning, David looked pretty ridiculous, walking around in his shorts and cowboy boots!
As we strolled over the border crossing bridge, we were fairly high up above the Rio Grande. We could look down and see people bathing and swimming in the Rio just a little upstream from the bridge. It was pretty hot out and it looked like fun, so we decided to try to make our way down there later in the day. In Acuna, we hit the main tourist drag and did some shopping, Jim bought a multi-colored twine hammock; my brother and I both bought one of those thick scratchy wool rugs that says "Mexico" with an eagle holding a snake on it (my brother still has his). We found David a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of sensible-looking huarches.
After finishing our shopping, we went exploring, wandering around in some of the off-the-beaten-track neighborhoods of Acuna. We didn’t see any other touristas where we were. Suddenly, Jim got a brilliant idea, "Hell man, while we’re in Mexico, we need to drink some tequila!" The rest of us agreed that this was in fact a brilliant idea and we decided to step into a local bar. There was only one problem with our idea though; we had walked into a "locals only" bar!
When we walked through the door, it was like a scene out of a old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. You know this scene, the one where Clint swings open the bar-room doors, then the music stops, all conversation stops, and then everyone in the bar slowly turns their heads to scowl at Clint, because they really want to kill him. It was just like that! Here we were, Yankee gringos in our shorts and tennis shoes, walking into a bar full of local Mexican men dressed out in cowboy hats and boots. Everyone in the whole place stopped to stare at us. The bartender asked us, "Can I help you?" We said, "Yeah, uh, we’d like some tequila please." The bartender replied, "Oh, we don’t have any tequila." (In other words, "We don’t have any tequila for you, motherfucker!; so get the fuck out!") We "got it" right away! "Oh, OK, thanks!"
We decided to go down to the Rio to see if we could find the place where we had seen the people swimming when we crossed the border bridge. After a few minutes of searching, we found our way down to the banks of the river.
Once we got there, there were some young guys swimming, a couple of older guys bathing (wearing shorts or underwear) and one guy was even shaving. Carmen was the only woman in sight. The young swimmer guys would climb up into this tree, about 15-20 feet high, that was hanging out over the river and then they’d dive out of the branches into the river. I thought, "I can do that! That doesn’t look so tough!" So up the tree I climbed. Once I got up there and started looking down at the water though, I got a whole new perspective on things. The water looked about four feet deep and I was suddenly a long way up in the air.
All the locals started laughing and pointing at me, and then pointing at the water, urging me on. None of us spoke a lick of Spanish, but I’m pretty sure that they were saying stuff like, "Come on, you can do it!" "Come on, you big pussy!" and "Look at that big gringo pussy! He’s afraid to jump!" A young boy of about 12 or so climbed up behind me and then stepped around me onto the tree branch overhanging the river. He dove right in, no problem! I watched how he did it, how he dove out and pulled up shallow to keep from breaking his neck. I had to go now or else my status as a big gringo pussy would have been firmly established with this group of men. I dove…splash!…no problems! BTW, I would never swim in the Rio Grande today; too many towns up and down the river use it as dumping ground for their sewage treatment plant effluent, but I didn't know that back then. We swam for a while, then cleaned up and headed back into town.
We found a bar with a friendly owner who welcomed us in and treated us like royalty. We were the only ones in the place. We had a round of beers and shots while we watched the soccer game on TV with the bar owner. Our bill was something like $6.00! We were amazed. We bought a bottle of Hornitos green label tequila to take with us on the road.
We walked back to the van and cooked up a kick-ass vegetarian meal in the parking lot. Once again, David wouldn’t eat! We told him, "Hey man, if you don’t like this food, we can stop and get you a burger or something." He still claimed that he wasn’t hungry.
"Oh well, if he wont eat, we can’t make him." After a pleasant post-kidnapping day in Mexico, we were back on our way once again.
Next Chapter…David’s Secret Vice!
Stay tuned…
Youthful Indescretions
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
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- Location: Chattanooga
Kidnapping - Chapter 7
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
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Let's see, more Day Camp stories..... First, I will tell you exactly what Day Camp is. My family was never that well off, so actual Summer Camp only happened once and that was because a woman my Mom worked with paid our way. Day Camp was a church-related Camp thing. They would pick us up in church vans at about 8 or 9 in the morning and bring us back around 5 or 6 pm. This was usually a one week thing. It was a craft making, song singing, doing a little community service, Day Camp Bonanza.
I forgot to mention the founder of our little 'Rebel' act in my previous post. My brother actually started it with a couple of boys from down the street. I believe he started it out of boredom. After the first year or so, he got tired of standing in a circle and singing songs. So, he started running away from the counselors and causing all kinds of havoc until he was about 13 years old.
His last year was my first year, so he gladly showed me the huge pine tree and a couple of other hideouts. He also showed us where the kitchen was. So, if we missed lunch because we hadn't behaved....no problem.
They gave us all name tags to wear, of course, but decided not to just slap a sticker on our shirt. They made name tags out of slices of wood and hung them around our necks. It looked like they had sliced a small tree like a loaf of bread.
So, Haley, by far my weirdest friend, decided to eat hers. Anything Haley did, I was soon to follow. By the time we would reach the church, there would be pieces of wood all over the bus floor and most of the kids on the bus would only have a piece of red yarn around their neck. This did not make the counselors very happy. So, making us swear we would not repeat this, they would bring us new ones the following day. Well, we weren't very honorable kids.
After the first day, we would usually have a few recruits, and would make it even more difficult for the counselors to keep track of all of us. We would meet under the tree, in the balcony of the church sanctuary, and behind a huge pile of wood in the very back of the building. We would usually get more boys than girls to join us, so there was plenty of truth or dare sessions.
One of our cohorts became my sort-of first boyfriend. We never made it official, as boys still had cooties (I was very sheltered as well), but we were never apart for two or three years. In one of our escapades, we were chased through the church by three counselors. My 'boyfriend' was caught right away and dragged back to group, but Haley and I kept at it. We were running down this long hallway and decided to cut around a corner and try to lose them. Unfortunately for me, there was a big surly woman waiting for us. She actually tackled me! I was like 8 or 9 and this grown woman tackled me and held me in a scissor hold with her legs. She grabbed Haley's leg, but Haley jerked it away and ran. I was yelling "She's got me! Run! Run!" Until the woman clamped a hand over my mouth. Not a good idea when trying contain a ferocious little girl. I bite the shit out of her hand, then her leg, until she released me and I ran on to join Haley. At this point, the counselors gave up chasing us and waited for us to return. This little adventure cost me a beating from my mother and very tight security during the next Kumbaya session. It was August and it was broiling, so I pretended to faint and was carried inside and given koolaid and cookies.
Well, I will leave off here. But the next little story will enclude the relics my brother left us at Day Camp.
I forgot to mention the founder of our little 'Rebel' act in my previous post. My brother actually started it with a couple of boys from down the street. I believe he started it out of boredom. After the first year or so, he got tired of standing in a circle and singing songs. So, he started running away from the counselors and causing all kinds of havoc until he was about 13 years old.
His last year was my first year, so he gladly showed me the huge pine tree and a couple of other hideouts. He also showed us where the kitchen was. So, if we missed lunch because we hadn't behaved....no problem.
They gave us all name tags to wear, of course, but decided not to just slap a sticker on our shirt. They made name tags out of slices of wood and hung them around our necks. It looked like they had sliced a small tree like a loaf of bread.
So, Haley, by far my weirdest friend, decided to eat hers. Anything Haley did, I was soon to follow. By the time we would reach the church, there would be pieces of wood all over the bus floor and most of the kids on the bus would only have a piece of red yarn around their neck. This did not make the counselors very happy. So, making us swear we would not repeat this, they would bring us new ones the following day. Well, we weren't very honorable kids.
After the first day, we would usually have a few recruits, and would make it even more difficult for the counselors to keep track of all of us. We would meet under the tree, in the balcony of the church sanctuary, and behind a huge pile of wood in the very back of the building. We would usually get more boys than girls to join us, so there was plenty of truth or dare sessions.
One of our cohorts became my sort-of first boyfriend. We never made it official, as boys still had cooties (I was very sheltered as well), but we were never apart for two or three years. In one of our escapades, we were chased through the church by three counselors. My 'boyfriend' was caught right away and dragged back to group, but Haley and I kept at it. We were running down this long hallway and decided to cut around a corner and try to lose them. Unfortunately for me, there was a big surly woman waiting for us. She actually tackled me! I was like 8 or 9 and this grown woman tackled me and held me in a scissor hold with her legs. She grabbed Haley's leg, but Haley jerked it away and ran. I was yelling "She's got me! Run! Run!" Until the woman clamped a hand over my mouth. Not a good idea when trying contain a ferocious little girl. I bite the shit out of her hand, then her leg, until she released me and I ran on to join Haley. At this point, the counselors gave up chasing us and waited for us to return. This little adventure cost me a beating from my mother and very tight security during the next Kumbaya session. It was August and it was broiling, so I pretended to faint and was carried inside and given koolaid and cookies.
Well, I will leave off here. But the next little story will enclude the relics my brother left us at Day Camp.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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dougaldutch
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Fri Feb 06, 2004 6:22 am
- Location: The Moderate Seas
- Contact:
Cookies and beer do not mix well
Hat off to Ring O'Fire for what has become the first and last thread I check every day, keep up the good work. 
I know there are many others who enjoy this thread so for a little filler I thought I would share one of my most memorable festival youthful indiscretions
I was heading out of my teens fast and was studying down in England, a friend of mine, Sam was also working down there and we decided a festival was in order. Being in a rock groove at that time OzFest seemed to be perfect. Simply the plan was I would get a train to the nearest city to the site and he would come pick me up and we would drive over. He was bringing his girlfriend, flatmate and flatmates friend (who he was trying to make the moves on) and then live it up for the weekend and listen to some damn good music.
First part of the plan went well, made it from where I was (Leeds) to the pick-up city (Loughborough) without a hitch, hell even the trains were running on time. Sam on the other hand was not, when I phoned to say I was there ready and waiting for his esteemed presence, he let me know he still had to cook and eat his dinner, pack the car and drive to meet me. So 2 hours (minimum) I had to kill. At this juncture it is important to mention that I had had a few jars on the train to warm up and also a space cookie; just to test what they were like of course. Never a master chef my proportions were slightly skewed and as I got off the train I could feel the effects starting to ooze over my cranium. So I was stuck in a town that had nothing more going for it than it's convenient geographical location and 2 hours to kill, I did the only thing any self respecting Scot would do and started a pub crawl into the city center.
Encounter the first pub after 5 min of tottering along the road. I’m in, order a pint, take a big swig when I start getting a funny feeling. Look around and everyone and I mean everyone is looking at me, Clint Eastwood spaghetti western style. This was a local pub for local people, not for Day-Glo red haired, neon greenday T-shirt wearing riff raff. There is a TV on so I think Brilliant! and engross myself in it so I don’t have to look at anyone (not recommended). Its horse racing, I know diddlysquat about horse racing, but now my very survival depends upon me looking like I absolutely live for horse racing. So I am trying to sink this pint as fast as possible whilst realizing that necking a pint is the last thing I should be doing, cookie is kicking and the warm up pints now seem to be on fire. I was in and out of that pub in 8 min flat.
Second pub is faring better, there is no sawdust on the floor and more than half the occupants look human, I was getting nearer civilization. All is going well, still a fair proportion of looks but I am getting used to it by now. To be truthful I was simply becoming more oblivious. Right so that’s one bad pub and one alright pub, ever the optimist I decide I need to try another as the way things are going it will be staffed by strippers, they will have a decent whisky and I will meet other festival go-ers. Walking to the third (and final) pub I can't see why I thought this place was so bad, they even provide appropriate music for walking down the street. The music was the reservoir dogs theme tune and it was not like it was just going over in my head, I thought I could hear it coming from the pavement as I walked.
Third pub and I am now truly beginning to feel blitzed, cookie is coming on strong and I am riding waves of euphoria, so decide that I better have a pint of water as well as a pint of lager, just to play it safe. The pub is actually more like a trendy bar, animal skin pattern furniture, wall to wall mirrors, chrome, etc, I again feel myself coming under scrutiny of the residents. The last spark of sanity in my head tells me to get may ass back to the train station and ride out the rest of the wait there, after all it seems I have been drinking for hours and Sam must be about here.
Toddling back along the route I have just striven, when that feeling in my groin is getting stronger and I realize I need to pee NOW. On my travels I had spotted a derelict petrol station and knew it would fit the bill nicely. Bladder relieved I am exiting the petrol station when I see a toy machine gun (think sky blue AK-47 with bright transparent muzzle that flashes when you pull the trigger). There is just no way I could not pick it up, that simply in my state of mind was not an option. Now the gun culture back then was more relaxed with many people being able to live out their days without ever seeing a real gun. So I couldn't perceive any problems with me walking around with a toy gun, not one as cool as this anway.
Arrival at the train station triggers what I think is a moment of sobriety, sure I would get the toy taken away from me I hide it up my top as best I can. In hindsight I can see now it was not a moment of sobriety I experienced but in reality just a really lucid moment of wastedness. Crashed out on bench and the usual curious/disgusted looks are aimed in my direction, but by now I am just thinking this is normal. The platform attendant came over and spoke to me, asking at the time what seemed innocent enough questions, although I freely admit now my judgement may have slightly been impaired. Spoke to Sam on the phone again for his ETA and calculate that if I hurry I can squeeze some food in before he arrives. That will sort me out, soak up all that errant alcohol and put me back on the straight and narrow, a tall order for any burger and chips. Unbeknown to me, Sam was becoming more concerned about me after every phone call and was applying as much speed as his overloaded car could handle, to try and reach me whilst I was still vertical.
So I find myself sitting outside the chip shop on the pavement, back against the wall when a couple approaches me with big smiles (warning, warning), I think "maybe these people aren't so bad after all". The lady approaches my right side and the man my left, she out of my reach and secured a white police van screeches up and out pours the Armed Response Unit, then another vanload and two carloads of police officers, who all surround me
. I am literally speechless, never before having had the experience of heavy assault rifles pointed at my head I feel my life has poorly prepared me for this moment. It is amazing what sobering characteristics fear and adrenaline can have, but couple that with several pints and one laced space cookie meant that I experienced the single most surreal moment of my life. Sitting there on the ground with a burger and chips in my left hand, a gormless look on my face, the entire armed police force of the town surrounding me and my phone in my right hand. It starts to ring and we all just stare at it, my wee phone is belting out the Monty Python theme tune. The moment is lost and the police start milling around feeling a tad sheepish that the biggest threat I pose to anyone is the street cleaners who may have to clean up the puddle of urine if they keep pointing those guns at my head.
Unable to answer the phone, the only noises I am capable of making are small animal noises, these holding back the torrent of gibberish that threatens to spill out any moment. It is Sam and he has finally arrived at the train station to find 2 police cars and a very bad feeling waiting for him. The police officer (the nice lady with the big smile) directs him to follow the police car that is leaving now and it will take him to me. At this point myself and all my belongings have been searched and packed away again (better than I had originally packed it), that is all but the remaining space cookies stored in a tupperware box. So I am being interrogated and they keep looking for some signs from me that I am lying, but I am so wasted that not one facial muscle could move even if I wanted it to. So just as Sam pulls up all the police are beginning to retreat back to their cars/ vans and through the parting armed police, uniformed police and undercover police all he sees is this little disheveled figure sat against a wall offering some of his burger and chips around. Relief pours over me and as I am handed over to Sams care, my optimism comes rushing back as well, and I ask if it would be possible to get the gun back, as a souvenir you understand. Sensing that we were not out of the woods yet I am thrown into the back seat of the car, held down and Sam tries to put as much tarmac between them and us as possible. I look around to see everyone else in the car staring at me, no stranger to this now I try to coolly introduce myself to them having never met before. Looking closely I was able to catch just a glimmer of fear in their eyes, they hadn't signed up for this, a weekend with a man who in only 2 hours was able to get the attention of every police officer in a 10 mile radius.
The rest of Ozfest was excellent (OZZY RULES!), but hazy, atmosphere despite the rain was classic. Erecting the tent took some time as I was good for nothing, it was dark, windy and wet and this seemed like one monstrously complicated dome tent. Undeterred we made the most of the weekend and everyone really let rip, having set the standard for the weekend it was surprising how many bands we actually got to see. The sobering up process took several days and as the story grew in the telling around university I realized how lucky I had been and vowed to never be such a stupid fuck again. Lessons were learnt and now despite what I vices I have imbibed I can be heard as the voice of reason, often the lone and slightly wavery voice of reason, but voice of reason none the less. So to summarize
1) Do not go on a pub crawl whilst under the influence in a strange town on your own when you can hear the reservoir dogs theme tune playing in the background
2) Whilst under the influence do not pick up any item that despite’s it's natural appeal may end up with you in a situation where you are out numbered 20 to 1 by law enforcement officers
3) MOST IMPORTANT
, when baking space cookies the less is more principle should be applied and when testing do so under controlled and safe environment. Under your bed is perfect.
I feel better for sharing that now and hope it can teach everyone a little something, even if it is don't drink with this loony. It took a while to get down and am pleased it allowed you to pass the time till our next installment of the great kidnapping story.
As side note at parties for the rest of the year people would tell me stories of this red headed guy who got into a gun battle with Police at OZ FEST and I would just sit back and smile slightly to myself
.
I know there are many others who enjoy this thread so for a little filler I thought I would share one of my most memorable festival youthful indiscretionsI was heading out of my teens fast and was studying down in England, a friend of mine, Sam was also working down there and we decided a festival was in order. Being in a rock groove at that time OzFest seemed to be perfect. Simply the plan was I would get a train to the nearest city to the site and he would come pick me up and we would drive over. He was bringing his girlfriend, flatmate and flatmates friend (who he was trying to make the moves on) and then live it up for the weekend and listen to some damn good music.
First part of the plan went well, made it from where I was (Leeds) to the pick-up city (Loughborough) without a hitch, hell even the trains were running on time. Sam on the other hand was not, when I phoned to say I was there ready and waiting for his esteemed presence, he let me know he still had to cook and eat his dinner, pack the car and drive to meet me. So 2 hours (minimum) I had to kill. At this juncture it is important to mention that I had had a few jars on the train to warm up and also a space cookie; just to test what they were like of course. Never a master chef my proportions were slightly skewed and as I got off the train I could feel the effects starting to ooze over my cranium. So I was stuck in a town that had nothing more going for it than it's convenient geographical location and 2 hours to kill, I did the only thing any self respecting Scot would do and started a pub crawl into the city center.
Encounter the first pub after 5 min of tottering along the road. I’m in, order a pint, take a big swig when I start getting a funny feeling. Look around and everyone and I mean everyone is looking at me, Clint Eastwood spaghetti western style. This was a local pub for local people, not for Day-Glo red haired, neon greenday T-shirt wearing riff raff. There is a TV on so I think Brilliant! and engross myself in it so I don’t have to look at anyone (not recommended). Its horse racing, I know diddlysquat about horse racing, but now my very survival depends upon me looking like I absolutely live for horse racing. So I am trying to sink this pint as fast as possible whilst realizing that necking a pint is the last thing I should be doing, cookie is kicking and the warm up pints now seem to be on fire. I was in and out of that pub in 8 min flat.
Second pub is faring better, there is no sawdust on the floor and more than half the occupants look human, I was getting nearer civilization. All is going well, still a fair proportion of looks but I am getting used to it by now. To be truthful I was simply becoming more oblivious. Right so that’s one bad pub and one alright pub, ever the optimist I decide I need to try another as the way things are going it will be staffed by strippers, they will have a decent whisky and I will meet other festival go-ers. Walking to the third (and final) pub I can't see why I thought this place was so bad, they even provide appropriate music for walking down the street. The music was the reservoir dogs theme tune and it was not like it was just going over in my head, I thought I could hear it coming from the pavement as I walked.
Third pub and I am now truly beginning to feel blitzed, cookie is coming on strong and I am riding waves of euphoria, so decide that I better have a pint of water as well as a pint of lager, just to play it safe. The pub is actually more like a trendy bar, animal skin pattern furniture, wall to wall mirrors, chrome, etc, I again feel myself coming under scrutiny of the residents. The last spark of sanity in my head tells me to get may ass back to the train station and ride out the rest of the wait there, after all it seems I have been drinking for hours and Sam must be about here.
Toddling back along the route I have just striven, when that feeling in my groin is getting stronger and I realize I need to pee NOW. On my travels I had spotted a derelict petrol station and knew it would fit the bill nicely. Bladder relieved I am exiting the petrol station when I see a toy machine gun (think sky blue AK-47 with bright transparent muzzle that flashes when you pull the trigger). There is just no way I could not pick it up, that simply in my state of mind was not an option. Now the gun culture back then was more relaxed with many people being able to live out their days without ever seeing a real gun. So I couldn't perceive any problems with me walking around with a toy gun, not one as cool as this anway.
Arrival at the train station triggers what I think is a moment of sobriety, sure I would get the toy taken away from me I hide it up my top as best I can. In hindsight I can see now it was not a moment of sobriety I experienced but in reality just a really lucid moment of wastedness. Crashed out on bench and the usual curious/disgusted looks are aimed in my direction, but by now I am just thinking this is normal. The platform attendant came over and spoke to me, asking at the time what seemed innocent enough questions, although I freely admit now my judgement may have slightly been impaired. Spoke to Sam on the phone again for his ETA and calculate that if I hurry I can squeeze some food in before he arrives. That will sort me out, soak up all that errant alcohol and put me back on the straight and narrow, a tall order for any burger and chips. Unbeknown to me, Sam was becoming more concerned about me after every phone call and was applying as much speed as his overloaded car could handle, to try and reach me whilst I was still vertical.
So I find myself sitting outside the chip shop on the pavement, back against the wall when a couple approaches me with big smiles (warning, warning), I think "maybe these people aren't so bad after all". The lady approaches my right side and the man my left, she out of my reach and secured a white police van screeches up and out pours the Armed Response Unit, then another vanload and two carloads of police officers, who all surround me
. I am literally speechless, never before having had the experience of heavy assault rifles pointed at my head I feel my life has poorly prepared me for this moment. It is amazing what sobering characteristics fear and adrenaline can have, but couple that with several pints and one laced space cookie meant that I experienced the single most surreal moment of my life. Sitting there on the ground with a burger and chips in my left hand, a gormless look on my face, the entire armed police force of the town surrounding me and my phone in my right hand. It starts to ring and we all just stare at it, my wee phone is belting out the Monty Python theme tune. The moment is lost and the police start milling around feeling a tad sheepish that the biggest threat I pose to anyone is the street cleaners who may have to clean up the puddle of urine if they keep pointing those guns at my head. Unable to answer the phone, the only noises I am capable of making are small animal noises, these holding back the torrent of gibberish that threatens to spill out any moment. It is Sam and he has finally arrived at the train station to find 2 police cars and a very bad feeling waiting for him. The police officer (the nice lady with the big smile) directs him to follow the police car that is leaving now and it will take him to me. At this point myself and all my belongings have been searched and packed away again (better than I had originally packed it), that is all but the remaining space cookies stored in a tupperware box. So I am being interrogated and they keep looking for some signs from me that I am lying, but I am so wasted that not one facial muscle could move even if I wanted it to. So just as Sam pulls up all the police are beginning to retreat back to their cars/ vans and through the parting armed police, uniformed police and undercover police all he sees is this little disheveled figure sat against a wall offering some of his burger and chips around. Relief pours over me and as I am handed over to Sams care, my optimism comes rushing back as well, and I ask if it would be possible to get the gun back, as a souvenir you understand. Sensing that we were not out of the woods yet I am thrown into the back seat of the car, held down and Sam tries to put as much tarmac between them and us as possible. I look around to see everyone else in the car staring at me, no stranger to this now I try to coolly introduce myself to them having never met before. Looking closely I was able to catch just a glimmer of fear in their eyes, they hadn't signed up for this, a weekend with a man who in only 2 hours was able to get the attention of every police officer in a 10 mile radius.
The rest of Ozfest was excellent (OZZY RULES!), but hazy, atmosphere despite the rain was classic. Erecting the tent took some time as I was good for nothing, it was dark, windy and wet and this seemed like one monstrously complicated dome tent. Undeterred we made the most of the weekend and everyone really let rip, having set the standard for the weekend it was surprising how many bands we actually got to see. The sobering up process took several days and as the story grew in the telling around university I realized how lucky I had been and vowed to never be such a stupid fuck again. Lessons were learnt and now despite what I vices I have imbibed I can be heard as the voice of reason, often the lone and slightly wavery voice of reason, but voice of reason none the less. So to summarize
1) Do not go on a pub crawl whilst under the influence in a strange town on your own when you can hear the reservoir dogs theme tune playing in the background
2) Whilst under the influence do not pick up any item that despite’s it's natural appeal may end up with you in a situation where you are out numbered 20 to 1 by law enforcement officers
3) MOST IMPORTANT
, when baking space cookies the less is more principle should be applied and when testing do so under controlled and safe environment. Under your bed is perfect.I feel better for sharing that now and hope it can teach everyone a little something, even if it is don't drink with this loony. It took a while to get down and am pleased it allowed you to pass the time till our next installment of the great kidnapping story.
As side note at parties for the rest of the year people would tell me stories of this red headed guy who got into a gun battle with Police at OZ FEST and I would just sit back and smile slightly to myself
.I'm off my tits on Happiness!
Ring,
I now consider you like one of the medieval minstrels who sang, danced and told stories for their dinner. And you have earned yours. I will have a big marinated steak (T-bone, Porterhouse or what ever cut you like) with all the trimmings waiting for you on the Playa. And as many Foster Oil cans an you can handle up to six.
I am limiting you to six so my camp will remain standing.
I now consider you like one of the medieval minstrels who sang, danced and told stories for their dinner. And you have earned yours. I will have a big marinated steak (T-bone, Porterhouse or what ever cut you like) with all the trimmings waiting for you on the Playa. And as many Foster Oil cans an you can handle up to six.
I am limiting you to six so my camp will remain standing.
-
RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
Beer on the Playa
I'll take you up on your generous beer and "all the trimmings" offer. Got any tofu or tempeh or veggies, instead of a steak though?
I promise I'll be more or less on my best behavior in your camp too. I promise I won't spray paint, steal, break, or break into anything and I won't kidnap anybody that isn't willing to be kidnapped, unless of course you're willing to make me an offer...
I'll definately see you on the playa!
In the meantime, I just finished Part VIII a few minutes ago, here it is.
I promise I'll be more or less on my best behavior in your camp too. I promise I won't spray paint, steal, break, or break into anything and I won't kidnap anybody that isn't willing to be kidnapped, unless of course you're willing to make me an offer...
I'll definately see you on the playa!
In the meantime, I just finished Part VIII a few minutes ago, here it is.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
-
RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER – PART VIII – “Could you please just SHUT UP?!”
After our little detour in Del Rio, Tex-ass and Ciudad Acuna, Mexico, we got back on the road bound for El Paso, in the far western corner of Texas. The main thing I remember about El Paso was that it was hot as fuck. It was something like 105 degrees Fahrenheit (about 87.2 degrees Celcius) in the shade. Yes, I know what you may be thinking. It is true, the heat of the west Texas Chihuahuan Desert is in fact a “dry heat”, not at all like our southeastern sweltering summer saunas. Nonetheless, 105 IS HOT!, “dry heat” or not.
Once in El Paso, we decided to head across the border into Mexico again. We had so much fun the first time, well, at least four of our troupe of five had enjoyed themselves, that we decided to give Mexico “another try.” This time though, in contrast to the sleepy little town of Acuna, we were heading into Juarez, a city of about 800,000 people.
We found a shady (so the dogs wouldn’t cook to death), secured (so our possessions would be relatively safe) parking lot on the border and walked across into Juarez. Walking about in downtown Juarez was another Gomer Pyle moment for me "Goh uh aa uh aa lee! I didn’t have no idea they had big cities n’ all in Mexico!” Of course, I knew from high-school geography that Mexico City was one of the largest cities in the world, and that there were other large cities in Mexico. Still, this was not the image of Mexico that I had seen in all those western movies throughout my life, the same mental image which had been more or less confirmed just the day before in Acuna. “Man, this Juarez is just like a regular city and ever’thang.”
Let me add at this point too, that, being from suburban southeastern Tennessee, I’ve had quite a few “Gomer Pyle” or “Jetho Bodine” moments in my life (Jethro was the big hulking half-wit on the “Beverly Hillbillies”). To me, Gomer and Jethro are the epitomes of the southern backwoods hick who has wandered out of the backwoods into the “big city” for the first time and is dumbfounded by all “the thangs that ah ain’t never seen the likes of b’fore.” Being in Juarez was an eye-opening experience for me in that "Gomer" or “Jethro” kind of way. (BTW, my cat is named “Jethrine” after Jethro Bodine’s sister).
The main thing I remember about Juarez, besides the megalopolis-scale of the city, is that we bought my brother a pair of drumsticks, so that he could practice his drumming skills on our adventure. My brother Michael and his “not if I have anything to say about it” bride-to-be Angie had actually met in the Red Bank High School marching band in Red Bank, Tennessee. My brother had played the “triple toms” in the band while Angie was a flag twirler. They had first fell in love at summer “band camp” about three years before the kidnapping.
After crossing the border back into El Paso, we met a pot-bellied, greasy haired, middle-aged Mexican guy who lived in a little shack near the lot where we had parked our car. When we met him, he was setting his “piss bucket” outside of his little 10 foot by 10 foot shack (obviously, he didn’t have “indoor plumbing). He spotted us and called us over, so Jim and I went over and struck up a conversation with the guy. He was a laid back, mellow-enough guy, so we made small talk for a while.
After a few minutes, our new friend trusted us enough to ask if we would be interested in purchasing some home-grown Mexican “botanical products?” Since Jim and I both considered ourselves to be connoisseurs of home-grown Mexican botanical products, we were definitely interested in purchasing some from this gentleman. We quickly negotiated a mutually-acceptable “deal” for an ounce or so of his product. After “scoring” just inside the US border, we were quickly on our way west again. Everyone was happy now, that is, except for David.
The trip across southern New Mexico and Arizona was pretty uneventful, except for a few details which I remember vividly. First of all, southern New Mexico and Arizona are hot as fuck in mid-June. Secondly, a late-1960’s VW microbus is mos’ def’ly not suited for the rigors of Chihuahuan and Sonoran Desert summers. For one thing, five people, two dogs, and all their combined mammalian possessions cannot ride comfortably inside of one these soda pop cans on wheels. Furthermore, our van’s own little “engine that could”, that 1400 cc air-cooled marvel of German engineering, was, believe it or not, actually not the ideal engine for pushing a metal shell full of five people, two dogs and a bunch of “stuff” down the highway in the desert sun. [Note: “air-cooled engine” + “desert summer heat” = “bad news” = "no engine cooling" = “burnt-up engine if you’re not careful”] In other words, we were cramped and sweltering, although the air flow made it semi-tolerable inside the van as long as we were sailing ahead under full snail.
The most interesting detail about the trip across the deserts of southern New Mexico and Arizona was that every time we would stop to gas up the vehicle and relieve our body functions, David would buy something like $5 to $10 worth of sugary junk food! No joke, this kid was buying, every 200 to 300 miles (every 4-5 hours!), every single time we stopped, something like the following: one or two cokes, two or three candy bars, cookies, MoonPies (made here in Chattanooga!), chewy candy (like NowN’Laters or Starbursts) and hard candy (like Jolly Ranchers).
Then, before the next stop, he would chug down his sugary soft drinks and eat all his sugary “food.” Every time we stopped to gas up, this process would be repeated. The rest of us were amazed at the little guy’s sugar intake. Damn! No wonder he was so skinny, he never ate any “real food!”
I think I should also describe David’s demeanor at this point in the trip. If I could only use two words to describe his disposition, they would be “sullen” and “pissy.” This guy complained and whined, about almost every conceivable thing, virtually non-stop! Well, maybe “non-stop” is a bit of an exaggeration, nonetheless, David’s whiney negativity was driving us completely fucking insane! The litany was endless, “…I don’t wanna sleep on the ground…I don’t wanna eat that (delicious meal that we just slaved over)…it’s hot in here…it’s cramped in here…this dog is licking me…this dog is laying on me…my feet hurt…my stomach hurts (no wonder, dipshit! think your diet might have something to do with it?)…how much farther is it?...when are we going to be there?...I don’t wanna go to California…I wanna go home…” What was even more aggravating was that he was actually right part of the time. Yes, it was cramped. Yes, it was hot. This was not news to any of us. We all knew this, but dammit man, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE STOP WHINING AND COMPLAINING!
Damn! You would have thought that we’d kidnapped the guy or something. Oh, wait a minute...oh yeah, that’s right...we did kidnap the whiney little fucker. We were genuinely bumfuzzled by his unhappiness and negativity though. This was not the experience we had had with my brother’s kidnapping. My brother had “gotten with the program” nearly right away. So, what was David’s problem? This was not part of “The Plan.”
All of us, especially Carmen, tried to cheer him up, “Well, David, I know we kidnapped you and all, but come on, at least try to get with the program! It’s not all that bad now, is it? Why the long sad face? Come on man, cheer up, isn’t his fun? “yee-haa’, ‘yahoo’, right? We’re going to California, David. We’re gonna have a lot of fun when we get there! It’s like…it’s like…it's like you’re getting’ a ‘free’ vacation to California! See, and you don’t even have to pay for a thing!”
My brother piped in, “Yeah David, see, I got kidnapped too! We’re in this together man! You don’t hear me complaining, do you? Now, come on, cheer up! Let’s make the best of this situation and just enjoy it as best we can!” David was unconvinced.
Jim and my attitudes were like, “Damn dude, come on man! We’re tryin’ to be the most hospitable, accommodating kidnappers that we can be here! Can’t you just work with us? Just a little bit?” If his constant, non-stop whiney complaining was part of a strategy to get to release him, it was working! He was driving us completely insane!
In light of our efforts to cheer him up, I personally didn’t think that it was a good idea to tell David that his dad had paid us to kidnap him. Jim’s sense of humor, however, was a little more cruel than mine.
At one point in the trip, David threatened to call his parents and tell them how we had abused him and were being mean to him, so that they would wire him the money for a plane ticket home. Jim casually replied, “Hell, go ahead and call them! Tell them whatever you want; I don’t care! It won’t make any difference anyway! Why do you think we kidnapped you anyway, just because we love your company so much? Hell man, this was all your dad’s idea! Your dad paid us to kidnap you and make a man out of you! Your parents aren’t gonna send you a damn thing! You’re stuck with us, David, and we’re stuck with you, so you might as well get used to it!”
We further informed David of his ultimate fate as our indentured servant/slave boy construction laborer. Needless to say, he was less than thrilled about his prospects. The prospects of coming back to Tennessee with us, living with us, and working for Jim and I, the big mean guys who had kidnapped him, busted his lip, and were menacing him daily, for some reason just didn't appeal to the little guy. I’m sure the prospect of daily hard physical labor with two big mean guys was not nearly as appealing as the cushy life he had going on in Houston before we kidnapped him, that of a rich, do-nuthin’ party boy.
So David kept on being sullen, bitchy, whiney, and kept on complaining. He also kept on gulping and chugging down sugary foods and drinks “like they were goin’ outta style”, as we say around here.
Why wouldn’t the little fucker eat anything?! We offered to stop at McDonalds to get him some food. We offered to go to a grocery store and buy the fixin’s for a meal, a meal just for him, if he would only just eat some “real food!” He still wouldn’t cooperate! Dammit, this was frustrating!
A few times that we’d stop to stretch our legs, Jim, Carmen, and I began to notice that David would talk to my brother a bit, when the three of us captors were out of hearing range. It began to look like David trusted Michael, since he was David’s fellow kidnapping victim and not one of his three captors. Little did David realize, however, that my brother was in fact…a mole!
Little did we realize though that our mole would soon reveal to us the real reason why David wouldn’t eat any real food.
Next Chapter…Addiction and Betrayal!
Stay tuned…..
After our little detour in Del Rio, Tex-ass and Ciudad Acuna, Mexico, we got back on the road bound for El Paso, in the far western corner of Texas. The main thing I remember about El Paso was that it was hot as fuck. It was something like 105 degrees Fahrenheit (about 87.2 degrees Celcius) in the shade. Yes, I know what you may be thinking. It is true, the heat of the west Texas Chihuahuan Desert is in fact a “dry heat”, not at all like our southeastern sweltering summer saunas. Nonetheless, 105 IS HOT!, “dry heat” or not.
Once in El Paso, we decided to head across the border into Mexico again. We had so much fun the first time, well, at least four of our troupe of five had enjoyed themselves, that we decided to give Mexico “another try.” This time though, in contrast to the sleepy little town of Acuna, we were heading into Juarez, a city of about 800,000 people.
We found a shady (so the dogs wouldn’t cook to death), secured (so our possessions would be relatively safe) parking lot on the border and walked across into Juarez. Walking about in downtown Juarez was another Gomer Pyle moment for me "Goh uh aa uh aa lee! I didn’t have no idea they had big cities n’ all in Mexico!” Of course, I knew from high-school geography that Mexico City was one of the largest cities in the world, and that there were other large cities in Mexico. Still, this was not the image of Mexico that I had seen in all those western movies throughout my life, the same mental image which had been more or less confirmed just the day before in Acuna. “Man, this Juarez is just like a regular city and ever’thang.”
Let me add at this point too, that, being from suburban southeastern Tennessee, I’ve had quite a few “Gomer Pyle” or “Jetho Bodine” moments in my life (Jethro was the big hulking half-wit on the “Beverly Hillbillies”). To me, Gomer and Jethro are the epitomes of the southern backwoods hick who has wandered out of the backwoods into the “big city” for the first time and is dumbfounded by all “the thangs that ah ain’t never seen the likes of b’fore.” Being in Juarez was an eye-opening experience for me in that "Gomer" or “Jethro” kind of way. (BTW, my cat is named “Jethrine” after Jethro Bodine’s sister).
The main thing I remember about Juarez, besides the megalopolis-scale of the city, is that we bought my brother a pair of drumsticks, so that he could practice his drumming skills on our adventure. My brother Michael and his “not if I have anything to say about it” bride-to-be Angie had actually met in the Red Bank High School marching band in Red Bank, Tennessee. My brother had played the “triple toms” in the band while Angie was a flag twirler. They had first fell in love at summer “band camp” about three years before the kidnapping.
After crossing the border back into El Paso, we met a pot-bellied, greasy haired, middle-aged Mexican guy who lived in a little shack near the lot where we had parked our car. When we met him, he was setting his “piss bucket” outside of his little 10 foot by 10 foot shack (obviously, he didn’t have “indoor plumbing). He spotted us and called us over, so Jim and I went over and struck up a conversation with the guy. He was a laid back, mellow-enough guy, so we made small talk for a while.
After a few minutes, our new friend trusted us enough to ask if we would be interested in purchasing some home-grown Mexican “botanical products?” Since Jim and I both considered ourselves to be connoisseurs of home-grown Mexican botanical products, we were definitely interested in purchasing some from this gentleman. We quickly negotiated a mutually-acceptable “deal” for an ounce or so of his product. After “scoring” just inside the US border, we were quickly on our way west again. Everyone was happy now, that is, except for David.
The trip across southern New Mexico and Arizona was pretty uneventful, except for a few details which I remember vividly. First of all, southern New Mexico and Arizona are hot as fuck in mid-June. Secondly, a late-1960’s VW microbus is mos’ def’ly not suited for the rigors of Chihuahuan and Sonoran Desert summers. For one thing, five people, two dogs, and all their combined mammalian possessions cannot ride comfortably inside of one these soda pop cans on wheels. Furthermore, our van’s own little “engine that could”, that 1400 cc air-cooled marvel of German engineering, was, believe it or not, actually not the ideal engine for pushing a metal shell full of five people, two dogs and a bunch of “stuff” down the highway in the desert sun. [Note: “air-cooled engine” + “desert summer heat” = “bad news” = "no engine cooling" = “burnt-up engine if you’re not careful”] In other words, we were cramped and sweltering, although the air flow made it semi-tolerable inside the van as long as we were sailing ahead under full snail.
The most interesting detail about the trip across the deserts of southern New Mexico and Arizona was that every time we would stop to gas up the vehicle and relieve our body functions, David would buy something like $5 to $10 worth of sugary junk food! No joke, this kid was buying, every 200 to 300 miles (every 4-5 hours!), every single time we stopped, something like the following: one or two cokes, two or three candy bars, cookies, MoonPies (made here in Chattanooga!), chewy candy (like NowN’Laters or Starbursts) and hard candy (like Jolly Ranchers).
Then, before the next stop, he would chug down his sugary soft drinks and eat all his sugary “food.” Every time we stopped to gas up, this process would be repeated. The rest of us were amazed at the little guy’s sugar intake. Damn! No wonder he was so skinny, he never ate any “real food!”
I think I should also describe David’s demeanor at this point in the trip. If I could only use two words to describe his disposition, they would be “sullen” and “pissy.” This guy complained and whined, about almost every conceivable thing, virtually non-stop! Well, maybe “non-stop” is a bit of an exaggeration, nonetheless, David’s whiney negativity was driving us completely fucking insane! The litany was endless, “…I don’t wanna sleep on the ground…I don’t wanna eat that (delicious meal that we just slaved over)…it’s hot in here…it’s cramped in here…this dog is licking me…this dog is laying on me…my feet hurt…my stomach hurts (no wonder, dipshit! think your diet might have something to do with it?)…how much farther is it?...when are we going to be there?...I don’t wanna go to California…I wanna go home…” What was even more aggravating was that he was actually right part of the time. Yes, it was cramped. Yes, it was hot. This was not news to any of us. We all knew this, but dammit man, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE STOP WHINING AND COMPLAINING!
Damn! You would have thought that we’d kidnapped the guy or something. Oh, wait a minute...oh yeah, that’s right...we did kidnap the whiney little fucker. We were genuinely bumfuzzled by his unhappiness and negativity though. This was not the experience we had had with my brother’s kidnapping. My brother had “gotten with the program” nearly right away. So, what was David’s problem? This was not part of “The Plan.”
All of us, especially Carmen, tried to cheer him up, “Well, David, I know we kidnapped you and all, but come on, at least try to get with the program! It’s not all that bad now, is it? Why the long sad face? Come on man, cheer up, isn’t his fun? “yee-haa’, ‘yahoo’, right? We’re going to California, David. We’re gonna have a lot of fun when we get there! It’s like…it’s like…it's like you’re getting’ a ‘free’ vacation to California! See, and you don’t even have to pay for a thing!”
My brother piped in, “Yeah David, see, I got kidnapped too! We’re in this together man! You don’t hear me complaining, do you? Now, come on, cheer up! Let’s make the best of this situation and just enjoy it as best we can!” David was unconvinced.
Jim and my attitudes were like, “Damn dude, come on man! We’re tryin’ to be the most hospitable, accommodating kidnappers that we can be here! Can’t you just work with us? Just a little bit?” If his constant, non-stop whiney complaining was part of a strategy to get to release him, it was working! He was driving us completely insane!
In light of our efforts to cheer him up, I personally didn’t think that it was a good idea to tell David that his dad had paid us to kidnap him. Jim’s sense of humor, however, was a little more cruel than mine.
At one point in the trip, David threatened to call his parents and tell them how we had abused him and were being mean to him, so that they would wire him the money for a plane ticket home. Jim casually replied, “Hell, go ahead and call them! Tell them whatever you want; I don’t care! It won’t make any difference anyway! Why do you think we kidnapped you anyway, just because we love your company so much? Hell man, this was all your dad’s idea! Your dad paid us to kidnap you and make a man out of you! Your parents aren’t gonna send you a damn thing! You’re stuck with us, David, and we’re stuck with you, so you might as well get used to it!”
We further informed David of his ultimate fate as our indentured servant/slave boy construction laborer. Needless to say, he was less than thrilled about his prospects. The prospects of coming back to Tennessee with us, living with us, and working for Jim and I, the big mean guys who had kidnapped him, busted his lip, and were menacing him daily, for some reason just didn't appeal to the little guy. I’m sure the prospect of daily hard physical labor with two big mean guys was not nearly as appealing as the cushy life he had going on in Houston before we kidnapped him, that of a rich, do-nuthin’ party boy.
So David kept on being sullen, bitchy, whiney, and kept on complaining. He also kept on gulping and chugging down sugary foods and drinks “like they were goin’ outta style”, as we say around here.
Why wouldn’t the little fucker eat anything?! We offered to stop at McDonalds to get him some food. We offered to go to a grocery store and buy the fixin’s for a meal, a meal just for him, if he would only just eat some “real food!” He still wouldn’t cooperate! Dammit, this was frustrating!
A few times that we’d stop to stretch our legs, Jim, Carmen, and I began to notice that David would talk to my brother a bit, when the three of us captors were out of hearing range. It began to look like David trusted Michael, since he was David’s fellow kidnapping victim and not one of his three captors. Little did David realize, however, that my brother was in fact…a mole!
Little did we realize though that our mole would soon reveal to us the real reason why David wouldn’t eat any real food.
Next Chapter…Addiction and Betrayal!
Stay tuned…..
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
Feminine Treachery
I was 24 when I did this one so I hope it counts.
I was in the Army and had a MAJOR problem with a Sergeant I worked for. He was constantly sticking me with all the work and disappearing for the rest of the day. So I decided to teach him a lesson.
I had read about this plan in a fiction story but it sounded good so what the hell, Go for it!
So I went downtown and bought a nice lacy pair of female bikini undies. Then I enlisted a female in my company for the next part as I needed the panties to be obviously used. I explained to Nancy what I was up to and she was in on the plan. The sarg had been a dick to her too. So for the next 3 days she wore the panties during the companies physical training to get them in a nice used condition. Then she gave them back to me.
For the next week I stalked the sarg. I was just waiting to find his car unlocked. And then the day arrived! His car was unlocked and I planted the used panties between the passenger seat and the door. The seat where his wife always sat. I then sat back and waited for the fire works to start. Oh, and did I mention the plant panties where a size 6 and the wife was a size 14, easy?
So the NEXT day, the sarg is not at the first formation. Rumors of discord at the sarg’s home last night floating around. Then, confirmation. The Military Police had been called to break up the one sided fight. The wife had gone nuts! Sarg had protested his innocents but the wife had the proof. So at this point I am sweating blood.
To make a long story short I cracked after 2 days. I called the wife and confessed to my crime. And can you guess what happened? Wait for it. She laughed her ass off. The women had a plan to teach the males a lesson. It seems that both males where guilty of the same crime. Insufficient attention to the females in their life’s.
Turns out that Mary ratted me out to the wife about 10 seconds after I talked to her. The wife was already pissed as the sarg was spending too much time after work drinking with his cronies and coming home late. My crime was not being able to pick up on the subtle hints by Mary that she wanted to hook up with me.
NOTE TO THE WOMEN : Guys are not subtle. We are stupid. Just say what you want.
A couple of days later I ran into sarg. The conversation ran like this with GUY sub titles for the women.
Me : Heah
Guy subtitle: Sorry about this whole mess.
Sarge : Heah
Guy subtitle : Its ok, we had it coming.
Me : Get some back?
Guy subtitle : Should we punish the women as bad as they did us?
Sarge : Not worth it.
Guy subtitle : NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT. The next time we cross them they will hang us up by our nuts from the clock tower with dental floss.
Me : Gotcha
Guy subtitle : Complete agreement.
Just one of my youthful indiscretions.
I was in the Army and had a MAJOR problem with a Sergeant I worked for. He was constantly sticking me with all the work and disappearing for the rest of the day. So I decided to teach him a lesson.
I had read about this plan in a fiction story but it sounded good so what the hell, Go for it!
So I went downtown and bought a nice lacy pair of female bikini undies. Then I enlisted a female in my company for the next part as I needed the panties to be obviously used. I explained to Nancy what I was up to and she was in on the plan. The sarg had been a dick to her too. So for the next 3 days she wore the panties during the companies physical training to get them in a nice used condition. Then she gave them back to me.
For the next week I stalked the sarg. I was just waiting to find his car unlocked. And then the day arrived! His car was unlocked and I planted the used panties between the passenger seat and the door. The seat where his wife always sat. I then sat back and waited for the fire works to start. Oh, and did I mention the plant panties where a size 6 and the wife was a size 14, easy?
So the NEXT day, the sarg is not at the first formation. Rumors of discord at the sarg’s home last night floating around. Then, confirmation. The Military Police had been called to break up the one sided fight. The wife had gone nuts! Sarg had protested his innocents but the wife had the proof. So at this point I am sweating blood.
To make a long story short I cracked after 2 days. I called the wife and confessed to my crime. And can you guess what happened? Wait for it. She laughed her ass off. The women had a plan to teach the males a lesson. It seems that both males where guilty of the same crime. Insufficient attention to the females in their life’s.
Turns out that Mary ratted me out to the wife about 10 seconds after I talked to her. The wife was already pissed as the sarg was spending too much time after work drinking with his cronies and coming home late. My crime was not being able to pick up on the subtle hints by Mary that she wanted to hook up with me.
NOTE TO THE WOMEN : Guys are not subtle. We are stupid. Just say what you want.
A couple of days later I ran into sarg. The conversation ran like this with GUY sub titles for the women.
Me : Heah
Guy subtitle: Sorry about this whole mess.
Sarge : Heah
Guy subtitle : Its ok, we had it coming.
Me : Get some back?
Guy subtitle : Should we punish the women as bad as they did us?
Sarge : Not worth it.
Guy subtitle : NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT. The next time we cross them they will hang us up by our nuts from the clock tower with dental floss.
Me : Gotcha
Guy subtitle : Complete agreement.
Just one of my youthful indiscretions.
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Hmmm....
Maybe I should just tell a story about being stung by bees or something. The male stories here are way better than any I have.
Well, I did drink large amounts of alcohol on saturday nights, in my parents house, in my bedroom, with them home, then go to church the next day with a hangover, all without them having a clue.
So, that counts for something, right??
I used to sneak out of my window with my little sister and best friend and cause havoc in my neighborhood. We would pick vegetables out of people's gardens and smash them on the road, only to talk our way out of it when the local cop came by the next day. He thought we were angels. I got out of so much shit with him as the authority around there.
One evening we snuck up on some guy that lived nearby, having a camp out on top of their 'club house' or whatever they called it, and filled up empty coke cans with rocks and chunked them up on top, waking them, then fleeing down the street at 4 in the morning with them chasing us.
But, thats about all we did, beside busting a lot of mailboxes and stealing odd things out of people's yards.
Can I tell stories about what my future uncle (only 5 years older than me) did when he was young? I swear he had some good stories!
Maybe I should just tell a story about being stung by bees or something. The male stories here are way better than any I have.
Well, I did drink large amounts of alcohol on saturday nights, in my parents house, in my bedroom, with them home, then go to church the next day with a hangover, all without them having a clue.
So, that counts for something, right??
I used to sneak out of my window with my little sister and best friend and cause havoc in my neighborhood. We would pick vegetables out of people's gardens and smash them on the road, only to talk our way out of it when the local cop came by the next day. He thought we were angels. I got out of so much shit with him as the authority around there.
One evening we snuck up on some guy that lived nearby, having a camp out on top of their 'club house' or whatever they called it, and filled up empty coke cans with rocks and chunked them up on top, waking them, then fleeing down the street at 4 in the morning with them chasing us.
But, thats about all we did, beside busting a lot of mailboxes and stealing odd things out of people's yards.
Can I tell stories about what my future uncle (only 5 years older than me) did when he was young? I swear he had some good stories!
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
NOTE TO THE WOMEN : Guys are not subtle. We are stupid. Just say what you want.
NOTE TO THE MEN: Women can not usually say what they want, you are supposed to figure it out.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
Re: Cookies and Beer
I'll drink with you, you loon. After all, loons of a feather must flock together. I'll treat you to a Guinness or two or five out on the playa.dougaldutch wrote:I feel better for sharing that now and hope it can teach everyone a little something, even if it is don't drink with this loony.
Of course, we'll have to figure out where we're gonna be and how to meet up. I'll have to do some research here on the eplaya for suggested methods of meeting up with people out on the real playa.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
Sorry 'bout that. That was my original intention, but once I started writing Part 8, there were too many other details that I just had to include. Once Part 8 got to a reasonable length and logical stopping point, I had to keep you guys in suspense for the next installment.Alpha wrote:no faaiiir! you proooomised to tell us in thiiiis chapter why David wouldn't eat! *whine*
Next episode probably won't be out until Friday (04/23/04) or so.
Sorry to keep you guys waiting, but my Physics final exam is this coming Friday afternoon and I have a lot of studying to do between now and then to get ready. I didn't get any studying done this weekend, mainly because I was selling tie dyes at this year's opening day of the Chattanooga Market, an open-air craft and farmers' market, yesterday, Sunday 04/18/04. On the plus side, I got a little taste of "15 minutes of fame" on a little corner of the internet, on http://www.chattanoogan.com, a local internet news site. My picture was on the home page today (Monday 04/19). Check it out, here's my picture.
Dammit! I hate the fucking image-posting function on the eplaya. ARRGGHH! Well, let's see if the link works, since I can't seem to master the user-unfriendly, arcane method of posting images here. I'll get the rest of the story out as soon as I can, promise!
http://www.chattanoogan.com/imageframe. ... _large.jpg
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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DVD Burner
- Posts: 11031
- Joined: Fri Dec 12, 2003 3:09 am
- Burning Since: 1986
- Camp Name: White Trash Camp
- Contact:
http://www.chattanoogan.com/imageframe.asp?
http://images.chattanoogan.com/photo_im ... _large.jpg
Here's a tip of the easiest way to post your pic:
Click the "Img" button. Then place your pic address, Then click "preview" button. It's the only way the pic comes out right because the tag does'nt come up till you click the "preview" button.
Then you're done.
http://images.chattanoogan.com/photo_im ... _large.jpg
Here's a tip of the easiest way to post your pic:
Click the "Img" button. Then place your pic address, Then click "preview" button. It's the only way the pic comes out right because the tag does'nt come up till you click the "preview" button.
Then you're done.
https://www.facebook.com/NeXTCODER
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
DVD Burner,DVD Burner wrote:Click the "Img" button. Then place your pic address, Then click "preview" button. It's the only way the pic comes out right because the tag does'nt come up till you click the "preview" button.
Then you're done.
Thanks for your help. Somehow I just can't seem to master the task of posting pictures. It seems to me that you almost need your own internet "host" or "server" or whatever in order to get the damned thing to work right.
Here's the way I did it (that didn't work). I copied the URL of the enlarged picture from the Internet Explorer "Address" window. Then I pasted the URL into my open "Post a reply" box in the eplaya. Then I "selected" the URL text and then clicked on the "Img" button. The phpBB/eplaya program put the little bracket around the URL. Then I hit the "Preview" button, but "ARGH!" no picture.
I don't know if it didn't work because there were two little banner ads at the top of the page or what. It almost seems to me that, in order to post a picture, you have to have a URL just for the picture. In other words, as far as I can tell, you can't post a picture that's only part of a web page and you can only post pictures that have their own unique URL.
I personally would like to be able to post jpg's directly to the eplaya bulletin board, although I'm sure there's a good reason why we can't already do this. I think I'll query the eplaya Admin about this in the appropriate thread.
Thanks again!
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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DVD Burner
- Posts: 11031
- Joined: Fri Dec 12, 2003 3:09 am
- Burning Since: 1986
- Camp Name: White Trash Camp
- Contact:
RingO'Fire wrote:
DVD Burner,
Thanks for your help. Somehow I just can't seem to master the task of posting pictures. It seems to me that you almost need your own internet "host" or "server" or whatever in order to get the damned thing to work right.
That is true to a certain extent. It is best that you have a website with pictures that you want posted here. But not nessasary.
Here's the way I did it (that didn't work). I copied the URL of the enlarged picture from the Internet Explorer "Address" window. Then I pasted the URL into my open "Post a reply" box in the eplaya. Then I "selected" the URL text and then clicked on the "Img" button. The phpBB/eplaya program put the little bracket around the URL. Then I hit the "Preview" button, but "ARGH!" no picture.
That way will work, however you still need to select preview after you make your selection. dont add the "[/img]" at the end of the url. preview will do it automaticly.
I don't know if it didn't work because there were two little banner ads at the top of the page or what. It almost seems to me that, in order to post a picture, you have to have a URL just for the picture. In other words, as far as I can tell, you can't post a picture that's only part of a web page and you can only post pictures that have their own unique URL.
When you want a specific pic to post that is on another web site, right mouse button click once on the pic that you want. then choose properties.you will then see the url location of the pic. highlight and copy that link and follow the instructions above.
I personally would like to be able to post jpg's directly to the eplaya bulletin board, although I'm sure there's a good reason why we can't already do this. I think I'll query the eplaya Admin about this in the appropriate thread.
No need to bother them. they have their hands full. PM me if this still does'nt work for you. I can step you through with confidence.( that is if they want to help please by all means accept it.)
Thanks again!
https://www.facebook.com/NeXTCODER
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dougaldutch
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Fri Feb 06, 2004 6:22 am
- Location: The Moderate Seas
- Contact:
I may have to hold you to that proposal Ring'O Fire, but Guiness does terrible things to your poo, its like giving birth to a big black tadpole. Hopefully t I will be able to treat you to some proper Scottish beer, thats right Tennets Its an acquired taste.
Will keep an eye out for good ideas of meeting people on the playa, if I get my ceilidh idea on the road, will Keep a place for you in the Highland Schottische
Lee
Its an acquired taste.Will keep an eye out for good ideas of meeting people on the playa, if I get my ceilidh idea on the road, will Keep a place for you in the Highland Schottische
Lee
I'm off my tits on Happiness!
Dirt, we want DIRT
Zephryus started this post. And then in order, me, robotland, Apollonaris Zeus, RingO'Fire, precipitate, dman, Silver, Markov Chaney, Zulegoona, dougaldutch, III aka Trey, Zane5100, rodent, Ugly Dougly, Alpha, dragonfly Jafe, DVD Burner, Tancorix, CrimsonHaze, anticdevices, theCryptofishist and angelface posted here. 23 Eplyans have posted here. And 1,977 people have viewed these posts.
Now I have to say that some of the viewer have to have some good stories. Did you ever give your little brother 2 paperclips and tell him to stick them in an electrical socket? Soak bread in Tabasco sauce and threw it to the seagulls so they puked onto the sunbathers? Come on, Post here! Fire cracker stories are all good. Get with it people, this is where you can brag about your crimes and they are funny now.
Disclaimer : If you are confessing to a Federal Crime like some unnamed individuals, make sure the Statute of Limitations has run out.
In short, give us the DIRT!
Now I have to say that some of the viewer have to have some good stories. Did you ever give your little brother 2 paperclips and tell him to stick them in an electrical socket? Soak bread in Tabasco sauce and threw it to the seagulls so they puked onto the sunbathers? Come on, Post here! Fire cracker stories are all good. Get with it people, this is where you can brag about your crimes and they are funny now.
Disclaimer : If you are confessing to a Federal Crime like some unnamed individuals, make sure the Statute of Limitations has run out.
In short, give us the DIRT!
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theCryptofishist
- Posts: 40312
- Joined: Mon Feb 23, 2004 9:28 am
- Burning Since: 2017
- Location: In Exile
Re: Dirt, we want DIRT
Sorry, Calsur. As a girl and a depressive, I spent my youth staring at the walls thinking about how brillient Dostoevski was. Not good story material.calsur wrote:Zephryus started this post. And then in order, me, robotland, Apollonaris Zeus, RingO'Fire, precipitate, dman, Silver, Markov Chaney, Zulegoona, dougaldutch, III aka Trey, Zane5100, rodent, Ugly Dougly, Alpha, dragonfly Jafe, DVD Burner, Tancorix, CrimsonHaze, anticdevices, theCryptofishist and angelface posted here. 23 Eplyans have posted here. And 1,977 people have viewed these posts.
Now I have to say that some of the viewer have to have some good stories. Did you ever give your little brother 2 paperclips and tell him to stick them in an electrical socket? Soak bread in Tabasco sauce and threw it to the seagulls so they puked onto the sunbathers? Come on, Post here! Fire cracker stories are all good. Get with it people, this is where you can brag about your crimes and they are funny now.
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
Your parents are older for a reason...
I have been hypnotized by this thread. Steve, ahem, Ring O' Fire, has kind've pissed me off by not finishing his story and makin' me wait...Feel like I'm in a Ketchup commercial. An-tis-ci-pa-ya-tion.....But on the other hand, he does make me feel better about myself,and the guilt doesn't haunt me as badly as it once did. Do ya hear the Lion King theme? I once was a mil-i-tary bratttt.....I wasn't quite as bad, at first, because my father ruled the roost so to speak, Command Sgt. Mjr.ran the post. So I was watched, even when he left me alone on weekends to go to Vegas. We lived on Dugway Proving Grounds in Utah and at 11 he left to go to Vegas and I learned how to deceive MPs on the post. Turned 12 there and did almost anything I wanted. Watched movies for free till 12 at night, ect., just had to be at home at a certain time when I knew they'd drive by to check. I have a 12 yr. old now, and would never leave his ass alone for that length of time. I give my kid 4 hours at the most....lol We moved to Vegas, and my father worked 2 jobs, why, I don't know, the check he recieved from 32 years should've helped. But that left alot of alone time for the 13 year old. All the kids in the neighborhood hung at my house. This was '80 and BMX bikes were the rage. They would park them in the living room so as not to be stolen...(you wouldn't believe what they spent on them) I even got into it, and at one time could jump 4 foot walls...but Father dear saw the tracks they left in the living room...And of course told him it was my one bike that did that...But the thing that told me he sometimes knew better was the time I took the Motorcycle outwithout his permission...We rode in the desert often, looking for snakes or other wildlife. I learned how to catch snakes that year. We caught several rattlers. He told me never to ride the bike without him there. Of Course I said....But ya know the mind of a 13 year old in that city... they know everything...Took the bike out one afternoon, with one of my buds on the back. This particular bud was of the oversized type, which means really fat. There was about 6 or 7 people at my house at that time, just hanging and partying...We came around the block back to my house and this asshole from down the block with his HUGE dirtbike decides to turn into my driveway. We hit, and the kid I'm riding, FLIES into the air OVER me, (I actually see that his pants aren't zipped all the way, weird huh?) and he hits the next door neighbors car and leaves a big "O dent in it. I hit the dirtbike turning into my driveway. PAIN all the way....His dirtbike lands on me and stays there for too many minutes...The exhaust pipe is laying on my leg...They finally get the damn thing off of me,none too soon, but too late. it's done it's damage... I have 3rd degree burns I learn later. They got the bike off of me and tried to fix mine so dear ole dad wouldn't know. The forks were screwed but they did their best and Dear ole dad asked me about it. Luckily we didn't know the neighbors at all, besides their faces. He said he heard it was a blonde riding a motorcycle with a blonde on the back....I have no idea...It was a 115 degrees that month in Vegas, and I had to wear long sleeves and pants all summer long...The wreck I was in caused major damaged to my fingers and forearms and with that huge burn I had to wear pants the whole summer. My typing class sucked that quarter...lol Luckily I had a school nurse that took pity on me... and told me to listen next time, and next time go to the hospital, because I could use a skin graft.....lolol But hey, I got away with it...
Look for the trees first....Then put on the windshield wipers...and get a clean look....
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
As calsur pointed out earlier there has been a pitiful number of posters compared to the number of people checking the thread out. I for one am rather enjoyed your story of wayward youth... it's just that with the number of posters being what it is it seems Chattanooga is statistically way over represented. It makes me wonder if I missed the announcement that we were suppose to gather in Tennessee before we are to arise in our second childhoods and reek havoc over the earth. Do we have to finish our first before we begin our second childhoods?
NOT pissed off
Treehugr11,
I am not pissed off at anyone on this board.
I am getting into the spirit of Burning Man. Just trying to build a little community here on this thread. Where you can admit you used Nair on your Aunt Tilly's cat or gave your dumb little brother a magic marker and pointed him at a new painted wall.
My post before yours was to point out that 0.0125% of the people viewing are posting a answer to this thread. 23/2000 do the math.
All I was trying to do is pry some stories out of the 99+% that are viewing and not posting to this thread.
There has to be some great stories out there. Post them here.
I am not pissed off at anyone on this board.
I am getting into the spirit of Burning Man. Just trying to build a little community here on this thread. Where you can admit you used Nair on your Aunt Tilly's cat or gave your dumb little brother a magic marker and pointed him at a new painted wall.
My post before yours was to point out that 0.0125% of the people viewing are posting a answer to this thread. 23/2000 do the math.
All I was trying to do is pry some stories out of the 99+% that are viewing and not posting to this thread.
There has to be some great stories out there. Post them here.
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Tiahaar
- Posts: 1142
- Joined: Sat Sep 20, 2003 9:13 pm
- Burning Since: 2003
- Camp Name: Starship Palomino
- Location: Mojave Desert, CA (also Forever via Pandora)
Well, since calsur prompts, here's another: I was a very straight-laced studious kid through high-school (though secretly randy as all get-out, but nobody believes those stories) and had very good friends and all. Anyway, I lived in Idaho and loved to go snow skiing and went up night-skiing with a church youth group one weekend. For some reason the person I rode up with had to go home early and at the end of the night I got passed off to one of the "wild guy's" trucks to ride home with. There were four of us in the cab of his big-tired jacked-up treasure (actually his dad's) and as we roared down the mountain I was thinking "please please let me live to see another day!!". So we come to the last big sweeping corner and Driver Dude was saying "I almost lost it sliding around here once..hey...HEY...AAGGHHH!!!" and oh yeah the tires caught some deep snow on the inside, the truck spun out sideways to the outside and over the edge we went backwards... 200 feet down a steep ravine to a willow stand in the field below...and stopped with the headlights pointing straight up the mountain. And we were OK!! And the truck was OK!! And nothing short of a BIG winch was going to get us out of there!! We left our skiis in the back of the truck, managed to climb back up to the road, and caught a ride down to the bottom of the mountain to a pizza place to call home and explain. While there, some guy came in and we overheard him talking about a "...wreck back up the mountain, a Mazda rolled off a corner...they're pretty much ok but some dude's truck sure got hammered."
Didn't scare me straight but I do take my driving seriously.
Didn't scare me straight but I do take my driving seriously.
Burning Man 2003-25; Desert Carillon, HypnoHorse, Ulaume's Chimes, Iron Native, Black Rock Solar, Portal Collective, Center Camp Café Stage and Sound Tech, 747 Project
Starship Palomino
Starship Palomino
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
My indescretion....lol
Sorry Calsur, didn't mean to be smart, my son was irritating me at that moment with one of his "youthful indescretions" at that moment. I was hoping Ring would finish his story. He did say Friday night? lol It's like a novel I can't pick up. By the way, does anyone here think gathering these stories of folks and putting them into a book is a bad idea? Some of you have killer ones and with a title as such, I know it'd be a best seller....I have laughed out loud so much reading this...The military guy and the chicks underwear...You can't make this stuff up....
Look for the trees first....Then put on the windshield wipers...and get a clean look....
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AntiM
- Moderator
- Posts: 20301
- Joined: Wed Mar 24, 2004 5:23 am
- Burning Since: 2001
- Camp Name: Anti M's Home for Wayward Art
- Location: Wild, Wild West
in the navy
Sadly, I was a very quiet, well-behaved child. I morphed into an evil mastermind as a teen-ager when I discovered my friends would go out and do shit I thought up ... and I would never get in trouble. "But Margaret said to ..." never cut it with the parents. Of course, my instructions had always been "Wouldn't it be funny if ..." and off they'd go. I feel a little bit bad now, but not too bad.
No, my youthful indescretions happened during my navy years. Ah, young sailors with too much money, few responsibilities, and no sense whatsoever.
At Great Lakes, where I attended my electronics school, there was a tall hot blonde in our platoon, name of Payne. We called her The Pain. She made dumb blondes look like geniuses. She was dating an officer, but when we warned her, she said, "He says it is okay because he isn't in my chain of commnd." Not okay, but we let it be, the more time she spent with him the less time we had to deal with her. She had the nasty habit of borrowing things, sometimes she'd ask, often she wouldn't. I tried to explain to her that it was stealing, but she'd give me a puzzled look and say, "But I never steal." I lost my best silk blouse to that moron.
One day The Pain started bitching that all her clothes were too small, she must be getting fat. Turns out some other pissed off soul had switched the dryer to "high" for her. (Beware laundry rooms if you're in the military, yes?). Her roommate and I were friends, we started playing the "are you gaining weight?" angle. Roomie would shortened her bra straps, shortened her belts, all very subtle. It was fun, but only mildly puzzling to The Pain.
Then one afternoon, roomie and I were shopping in the base Exchange (PX, BX, base main store). There were some pretty nice dresses on clearance, party and evening wear type of thing, designer label of some kind. The roomie tried one on, sighed, and told me she wasn't going to get it because The Pain would only borrow it for some fancy weekend in Chicago her LT. was taking her on. I agreed, and as I put it back next to the size smaller, we both had the same idea at the same time. These dresses were on clearance, they were more than a good bargain. Roomie could well afford TWO dresses.
Roomie stashed the smaller dress and left the size up out on her bed. Sure enough The Pain tried it on right away and asked if she could borrow it for the next weekend. Roomie protested, but not too much, then gave in, making The Pain promise to dry clean it and be careful, as it was new and expensive.
The dress was a nice sleek fit anyway, with spaghetti straps. Put your puppies up on a shelf and showed them off, not something you could or would wear a bra under. The Pain have big boobs anyway, so we were fairly certain this would work. We took the smaller size; first, the size tag came out. Next we strategically snipped stitches, made sure the straps were on and the zipper zipped, but would fall apart when she tried to wear the dress. She'd have to find someting else to wear for her big date; and we knew she'd be staying in a hotel away from base and probaly not have another dress with her.
Turns out we miscalculated the stress factor of good thread. She indeed wiggled into the smaller dress and went out on the town with her officer. The dinner and dancing they attended was also attended rather heavily by other senior military members. The fool had taken his little miss hottie to a navy function of some type rather than just up to Chicago for hot greasy monkey sex. We never knew for certain, but the rumor mill had it that the dress gave way at the straps and zip while she thrashed about on the dance floor. I hope everything I heard about that dinner dance was true, especially the part about the Base Commander's wife going ballistic.
Ah, to have been a fly on the wall. The Pain never quit borrowing entirely, but she slowed down; shortly after she got into some kind of trouble and may or may not have been busted out of the Navy. I'd been transferred so I don't know.
Geee, I sound mean. I'm not mean, just have a very evil mind! Well, maybe I'll do some of the "One time when we were really, really drunk" stories...... wow I did some dumb stuff.
Anti M
No, my youthful indescretions happened during my navy years. Ah, young sailors with too much money, few responsibilities, and no sense whatsoever.
At Great Lakes, where I attended my electronics school, there was a tall hot blonde in our platoon, name of Payne. We called her The Pain. She made dumb blondes look like geniuses. She was dating an officer, but when we warned her, she said, "He says it is okay because he isn't in my chain of commnd." Not okay, but we let it be, the more time she spent with him the less time we had to deal with her. She had the nasty habit of borrowing things, sometimes she'd ask, often she wouldn't. I tried to explain to her that it was stealing, but she'd give me a puzzled look and say, "But I never steal." I lost my best silk blouse to that moron.
One day The Pain started bitching that all her clothes were too small, she must be getting fat. Turns out some other pissed off soul had switched the dryer to "high" for her. (Beware laundry rooms if you're in the military, yes?). Her roommate and I were friends, we started playing the "are you gaining weight?" angle. Roomie would shortened her bra straps, shortened her belts, all very subtle. It was fun, but only mildly puzzling to The Pain.
Then one afternoon, roomie and I were shopping in the base Exchange (PX, BX, base main store). There were some pretty nice dresses on clearance, party and evening wear type of thing, designer label of some kind. The roomie tried one on, sighed, and told me she wasn't going to get it because The Pain would only borrow it for some fancy weekend in Chicago her LT. was taking her on. I agreed, and as I put it back next to the size smaller, we both had the same idea at the same time. These dresses were on clearance, they were more than a good bargain. Roomie could well afford TWO dresses.
Roomie stashed the smaller dress and left the size up out on her bed. Sure enough The Pain tried it on right away and asked if she could borrow it for the next weekend. Roomie protested, but not too much, then gave in, making The Pain promise to dry clean it and be careful, as it was new and expensive.
The dress was a nice sleek fit anyway, with spaghetti straps. Put your puppies up on a shelf and showed them off, not something you could or would wear a bra under. The Pain have big boobs anyway, so we were fairly certain this would work. We took the smaller size; first, the size tag came out. Next we strategically snipped stitches, made sure the straps were on and the zipper zipped, but would fall apart when she tried to wear the dress. She'd have to find someting else to wear for her big date; and we knew she'd be staying in a hotel away from base and probaly not have another dress with her.
Turns out we miscalculated the stress factor of good thread. She indeed wiggled into the smaller dress and went out on the town with her officer. The dinner and dancing they attended was also attended rather heavily by other senior military members. The fool had taken his little miss hottie to a navy function of some type rather than just up to Chicago for hot greasy monkey sex. We never knew for certain, but the rumor mill had it that the dress gave way at the straps and zip while she thrashed about on the dance floor. I hope everything I heard about that dinner dance was true, especially the part about the Base Commander's wife going ballistic.
Ah, to have been a fly on the wall. The Pain never quit borrowing entirely, but she slowed down; shortly after she got into some kind of trouble and may or may not have been busted out of the Navy. I'd been transferred so I don't know.
Geee, I sound mean. I'm not mean, just have a very evil mind! Well, maybe I'll do some of the "One time when we were really, really drunk" stories...... wow I did some dumb stuff.
Anti M
AntiM,
I don't think you sound mean at all you were just trying to help "the Pain" with her problem of being a leach by using behavior modification.... Truly evil and devious behavior modification.... I mean you were trying to do her a favor. ( yeah that’s the ticket) A favor, trying to help her become a better person. Good for you!
I don't think you sound mean at all you were just trying to help "the Pain" with her problem of being a leach by using behavior modification.... Truly evil and devious behavior modification.... I mean you were trying to do her a favor. ( yeah that’s the ticket) A favor, trying to help her become a better person. Good for you!