I awoke with fuzzy memories of the end. The end of the last night that is. Dustin and I shared a bottle of Chardonnay and Dean rolled two joints. The dude that doesn’t even smoke weed rolled not one but two joints. He smokes Newports and never rolls anything. They were almost probably too amazing. A little too close to the edge. That was the catalyst into sleep’s oblivion and the next morning’s hangover was mild but acutely present.

The van was acting strange when we arrived in Bend the previous day. While it idled at stop lights you could feel a strange vibration. I actually had never felt it before. So in the morning Dean and Scott went and had diagnostics done and found one of the cylinders was misfiring. So our Motel 6 morning experience consisted of Shark Week and calling auto mechanics to see who could take us in the earliest and fix this fucking issue that should have been fixed before we even left. (I’m looking at you Suburban Ford in Sandy, OR) We had a slow pace to the day. Chief and Aaron were somewhere we knew not and the rest of us hung around the over-priced Motel 6 room all afternoon (Bend). We finally confirmed our appointment with the van for 8 AM the next day so we would now be shelling out who knew how much for engine repair. Sam and Alex were kind enough to have us over that evening for burritos and chillaxing. Their daughter Parker was there and she freaking loves sand. In her hair, her hands, moving it from one place to the other, dumping it in things, spreading it around. Almost eating it. It’s fascinating to watch babies in their lack of concern for dirt, germs, and hygene. They may not have the mental faculties of a grown up yet but their freedom is inspiring.

Aaron bought a half rack of Rolling Rock bottles. Dean bought a Viso. I didn’t buy shit. Rose brought a half rack of PBR so I just drank hers. (Thanks Rose) And then the cards came out. I’d say the band’s favorite game, besides the Anal RV game, is Rummy. Dean usually wins but that’s just because he plays it every night in Portland. And he’s a badger. Dustin bailed and we ended up down by the river drinking 40’s out of brown bags. We were “brown-bagging.” Did you know that the word brown bag is trying to be banned by the city of Seattle? Isn’t that fucking nutty? Legalize weed and have prohibition on words. People are strange.

After some more late night frolicking and star gazing we eventually made it back to the motel. Dustin and Scott were already asleep so we did our best to keep it quite while we made our way back “down.”

Cocaine is a hell of a drug.


- ryan | No Comments