Wildlife Documentary: The Rhino and the Cheetah

A return trip from across state lines is never quite as interesting unless you are committing a felony that incorporates verbage to the contrary (i.e. trafficking illicit cargo whether that be humans, drugs, firearms etc. Use you imagination.) You know -- don't cross state lines unless you have clean underwear. That's why I packed for the one night stayover. :p

Well, suffice to say, we hadn't done anything they could do us for when we re-entered Texan airspace. However, if you do find yourself on the business end of the criminal justice system for transporting [insert your poison of choice here] across state lines, never fear that hard-nosed hardass that has been allotted to "judge" you. Just remember that Johnny Depp said it best in Blow as your friendly neighborhood cocaine and marijuana trafficker, George Jung.

He said: "Well, in all honesty, I don't feel what I've done is a crime. And I think it's illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. Because, when you think about it, what did I do? I crossed an imaginary line with a bunch of plants." He goes on to cite Bob Dylan as a source for his live-and-let-live philosophy. Of course, he still went to jail, but he looked good doing it. Anyway, I digress.

So, we arrived back in Houston to find the citizenry as ill-tempered and itchy-trigger-fingered as before we left. I say that, but you know, most of us are just trying to make it through the day. You see, it's the vehicles. They turn us into enemies, set us against one another, and then they give us a license to drive the damned things.

My casino campanion ducked down sidestreets when we entered the vicinity of his house. No point trying to be brave and stay on the congested major arteries of this pulsating behemoth we call home. Best to go the backroads and live to fight another day. Little did we know that it is those same lawless backroads of Houston that once in awhile yield the most interesting wildlife interactions, and I don't mean the cutesy tableaus of puppy dogs and kittycats sacked out asleep together in a barn loft somewhere -- not in the Houston grid anyway.

No, we wandered into a Mexican stand-off of sorts between a bewildered conscientious objector and an irate object of objection that must have been just begging for a reality show to come along and "discover" her. I mean, you don't go provoking rattlesnakes or calling them spineless (they have a spine, btw). Apparently, you shouldn't provoke ladies who drive red Corvettes either. It's not the car, per se. It is, in fact, the car's brightly-colored plummage that screams a warning to all potential adversaries that this mean machine is not to be f-ed with.

Of course, even the most erudite of wildlife experts could misinterpret one species for another. We can go back to snakes again for an analogy about coral snakes versus scarlet snakes. The only way that I'd survive that misunderstanding would not involve years of formal training. Rather, it would be because I remember the childhood limerick "Red by yellow, kill a fellow. Red by black, friend to Jack." Meanwhile, the guy with the degree is desperately trying to suck poison from his own ass before the onset of death.

Anyway, the stand-off began like this: We pulled up at a four-way stop. To our left was a van (forever after to be referred to as "Rhino"). In front of us was the infamous red Corvette (forever after to be referred to as "Cheetah"). My eye witness account will have to exclude testimony about who stopped first. I didn't see it. All I know is that the Cheetah wanted to turn and proceed in the direction that the Rhino was heading (the Rhino was to our left).

I was distracted, not paying attention. My casino chauffeur/buddy knew that he was last in the queue and so we waited. I looked up to see that the Cheetah had begun its turn at the exact same time that the lady driving the Rhino decided she had the right-of-way and started straight. (If indeed they did stop at the same time, she did have the right-of-way, btw.) They both came to an abrupt halt when they realized the other's intentions. For a tense moment, both were at stand still, arranged in such a way that the Cheetah was mid-way through it's turn and the Rhino would have collided with it if the Rhino had chosen to continue on its merry way as opposed to having stopped.

After hestitating briefly to ascertain the situation, the Cheetah took the intiative and, with cheetah-like reflexes that only a cheetah could possess, accelerated away from this dinosaur of the modern age. The Rhino responded with incredulity to the perceived slight. It let forth a spirited roar, a defiant challenge to the shabby treatment afforded it by this lesser creature of the wilderness (i.e. it honked its horn at her). Do not be fooled though, ye intrepid explorers, by the diminutive stature of this Cheetah in respect to the Rhino. (At this point, I'm gonna hand off to our field correspondent, ruby_commentator, for a firsthand account.)

[snotty wildlife programming voice-over on]
Note the upturned middle finger of Cheetah in response to Rhino's reproach. Remarkable! I think the female is indicating a readiness to mate! But then again, perhaps we are seeing an alternate, implied meaning in her gesture. Wait a second! The Cheetah has pulled over. A woman is exitting the vehicle. It appears that she has chosen to stand and fight rather than flee. She has now raised her arms in an bold, expansive display; indeed, this aggressive posturing is meant to make her size appear more impressive and intimidating to this would-be predator.
[snotty wildlife programming voice-over off]

Yes, she flipped Rhino lady off. Then, in defiance, she decided to exercise her right to free assembly in the middle of the road.

Remind me who the "would-be" attacker is again? Oh, that's right. It's a van. This presents an interesting set of options to the van/Rhino driver. I can only wonder what went through her head. Do I (a.) get out and enter into a discussion that at this point looks like nothing more than the formal prelude to hand-to-hand combat, (b.) drive around her and enjoy a rare glimpse of an idiot chasing my van on foot, or (c.) run this crazy woman down as a favor to all the world?

If it's fame she wanted, belligerently flagging down an approaching van that is being operated by a person that is still seeing red from an altercation they shared mere seconds ago... well, that'll get you a Darwin Award.

Sadly, we were never able to sort out the scene. For the most part, out of embarassment for her, we continued on down the road, but we almost wrecked our own vehicle due to rubbernecking. Like a morbid fascination, it is one of those sights that is repugnant and, yet, transifixes you. It's like staring across time at who we were before society lost it's sense of humor about conflict resolution. In other words... Catfight! Catfight! :p

Whenever I'm at a loss to explain a situation, I turn to cinema. There are several instances that come to mind that typify the feeling I had of watching this scene unfold. One is from Bill Murray's Quick Change in which Bill and a cadre of crooks accidentally wander into a bizarre ritual while they are lost in New York. They pull up to ask for directions. The man they pick is a stoic, older Hispanic fellow who is sitting on a bike in the middle of the street. He seems distracted by something up the road. They turn to see what has his attention. Another Hispanic man sits opposite him on a bike of his own. As if on cue, they begin to pedal ever faster towards one another with predictable results. That's right, they were jousting. They even had rakes and brooms in their hands to mimic lances. And what do you say to that?

Another is the movie Wonder Boys. In the particular scene, Michael Douglas, Robert Downey Jr., and Rip Torn are harassed by a gentleman they bestow the made-up name "Vernon" on. He's an African-American guy that they characterize as "president of the James Brown Hair Club for Men". He seemed to believe they were in his car and proceeds to chase them around the block, disappear down an alley, and re-emerge on the other side directly in front of them. After a beat, the exchange ends when he jumps on the hood of the car, leaving a large dent, gets down, takes a bow, and promptly runs off.

At a time like that, you just gotta go with Rip Torn's appraisal of the whole scene. His response was apropos. "What the hell was that?" *-)

Ruby goes to Cajun Vegas

Yes, I went to the casino over the weekend. The short and sweet of it is: Casino - nothing, ruby - $295 richer. [invoking the Texas vernacular] Yeeeeeehaaaaawwwww!!!! That's right, we Texans love nothing better than to gallop across the border into Louisiana and rustle us up some dinero.

Actually, the casino and I weren't dukin' it out. The poker rooms are set up so that the casino takes a "rake" from every pot. They are the only guaranteed winners. The participants (ten to a table) vie with each other Texas hold 'em style.

I "vied" for eight hours that night and came out just shy of three C-notes richer. A friend of mine wasn't so lucky. He hung himself with copious amounts of scotch and bad calls. Probably roughly $50 of my winnings came from him.

I can't post more about it this night. I'm off to play some pool with a friend. I'll continue on about the adventure tomorrow. Until then, poker players...

*-)

Is it tomorrow yet?

[emoting a la Jimmy Swaggart]

I lied the other day when I said I would post tomorrow. I take the responsibilty. I shoulder the blame. [breaking down] I have sinned before you, O Lord!

[wiping away fake tears, brightening]

But I had a damned good reason. I have, in fact, been working 2 jobs for the last week. I am in the midsts of transferring my skills, my expertise, and my white ass from one firm to another. Yes. I got me one new job, but I must relinquish the old one. Transitioning comes at a price though, and I will miss the people I've worked with. It is bittersweet at best.

I had the opportunity to do the same Dave-Chappelle-as-Jimmy-Swaggart, over-the-top breakdown on the phone with my family and friends. "Momma! Daddy! Look at me! I'm finally respectable!"

So, with what amounts to two part-time jobs until my two weeks notice is up, my father's and my birthdays, casino trip this weekend, etc., it has been busy around here. I'll spare you the gory details.

I'm looking with relief toward the coming of weekend. With one more week of this ahead, I must put my freak on and take it off in the span of a regular workin' stiff's weekend. Whereas, I've had Mondays off regularly since my current firm placed me, rather roughshod, on reduced hours awhile back. I didn't even get vaseline with that.

I'm kind of forcing out a post here, and it feels that way. I have, otherwise, been more free to post at my leisure, and those seemed to come more naturally. The last thing I would ever want to lose by whoring myself out to the Man would be my sense of humor about the whole thing. That references the late, great (?) Philip Johnson, an architect that was famously quoted as saying, "All architects are whores." Of which, his example may reign supreme.

In the end, it is a steady job. I hope to balance out the mundanity of having a staring contest with a computer screen on most days by engaging in other interests. I'll be trying to get involved in a monthly poetry reading that goes on down here. There is a somewhat large, annual poetry fest coming to Houston in October as well. I may try to interject myself into that world a bit more. It is still my plan to apply for film school this fall for a start next fall.

If, by some stroke of luck, I was accepted, I will fiendishly plot my escape from the straight-jackets of servitude to this profession. Though I dearly love architecture (the finished product), I am loath to say the same about "archi-torture" (the process of making that finished product). Where was that realization back when? :p

Placemarker

You can print this up, and cut it out. It is redeemable for one blog post tomorrow. The quality of the content expressed and here in contained may not be viewed as a binding contract. Results vary.

I been a bad blogger boy because I've been busy, but I'll be better about blogging before I catch a beating... uh, tomorrow. [takes off running]

Pirates, ye be warned

Well, in response to the sudden proliferation of blog spam on sites that I frequent, I have taken it upon myself to beef up defenses here. Ironically, civil liberties are the first thing to go. I am declaring martial law to protect my guests.

[George W. voice on] It's a new kinda war, ya see... and, and, and... we are making progress. These new measures that I have... implemented... will make the blogger community safer, ya see. It will require ...that the blogger community... uh... make sacrifices.

Yeah, what he said. [rolls eyes] Though I can't be as eloquent as he, I can tell you that I have removed anonymous posting from the site, a tragic casualty of my new war. I will exercising right to delete any suspicious posts from my blog. Things like "I really like your site, check out my new line of blenders" will be turned into puree on sight.

I'm not sure if this new threat is an automated assault or unscrupulous individuals. If I am actually speaking to the latter, please know that I equate you with pimps, dime store golf hustlers, and ambulance-chasing lawyers. You are the poorest of salesmen, a rat that will do anything to survive. I would love nothing more than to kick you in the balls for adulterating the online experience.

Now, I haven't even seen one on this site yet. Some might say that I'm over-reacting. This kind of guerilla capitalism is distasteful in the extreme to me though. There is a time and a place for everything. They can go hump the American Dream on their own blogs, living life in pursuit of Mammon. Here certain things are held in higher regard.

Dropping off & Picking up

Dropping off:

This weekend was pretty tame. All extra energy is being held in reserve and is expected to be released next weekend. I can spend a solid few days at the bottom of a glass, feeding that introspective monkey on my back jello shots to keep him from jabbering on and on about existentialism, life's equation, and how mine is not proceeding down the prescibed path. Shut up, monkey! Have a jello shot! Go play some blackjack!

Did I say blackjack? That's right. Not but two weeks removed from the travesty that was my last casino adventure, here I sit with friends of mine planning another casino adventure to celebrate my twenty-eighth year. Why don't they just present me with a bill? :p

I'm kidding, of course. I didn't need much coaxing. As Hunter S. Thompson surmised at the end of Fear and Loathing, I'm "just sick enough to be totally confident". So, I will not speak of it further. Afterall, history doesn't repeat itself. Or was that... hmm... anyway...

If any of you have ever seen Snatch, directed by Mr. Madonna (aka Guy Ritchie), there is a scene near the beginning of the film that involves the discovery by one of the characters that another character, played by a Benecio del Toro (Franky Four Fingers, a notorious gambling addict), was placed in an environment of temptation. On the phone, this guy seems shocked and apprehensive to learn that Franky might have run amuck. Cut to a rapid-fire montage of stills of Franky, amid all the glitz and glamour of a casino, blowing his wad(s?) and grinning from ear to ear all the while. The music that accompanies it mirrors the ecstatics of a junkie in the middle of getting their much-needed fix. It's brief but hilarious. Check it out sometime -- oh, and watch the movie too while you're at it :p

I like to joke with neighbors at the table. "Who says you've gotta pay rent?" "I've gotta turn this two hundred into two hundred thousand, or I'm a dead man."

Well, enough about casinos. They can be enjoyable every once in a while. Nevertheless, win or lose, after this trip I plan to take a long time off from them.

Picking up:

Changing the subject before I go, I was at the dry cleaner last week to pick up some clothes. It's a nice place, very cheap in comparison to some of the vendors around town. The staff are of some indistinguishable asian nationality. "It doesn't matter though, does it? Are you prejudiced? Because in spite of [their] race, [these people are] very valuable to me." Another Hunter S. Thompson gem for ya. :)

They are very nice people. When I entered, the lady that assisted me was very congenial. She was making small talk. "Hi. Did you have nice day?" I had. "Are you glad the kids are going back to school." "Looks like rain." Things of this nature.

After a few moments, she excused herself to collect my order from the racks. Returning, she asked, "So, did you have a nice day?" Either she wasn't really listening at all, or she didn't buy my story. I was having a good day. I promise. :)

It inevitably reminded me of the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off where Ed Rooney was out looking for Ferris. (I always wondered why he chose the hang-out he did. They never really elaborated on why. Afterall, Ferris was off galavanting around Chicago.)

Anyway, after confronting a girl he mistakes from behind for Ferris, he walks up to the bar to get a napkin to wipe away the soda she spit on him. The bartender is watching a baseball game in the background. As Rooney is drying himself, he absently inquires in reference to the baseball game, "What's the score?" The bartender replies, "Nothing, nothing." Rooney, still focused on his clothes, asks, "Who's winning?" Irritated, the bartender pauses for a moment, and then, with caustic wit, answers, "The Bears." :p

The B-Day Girls

Happy Birthday! And take that, b-day girl! I looked up your list of things you'd never wear. Unfortunately, your profile didn't accomodate my revenge ;)

Blue1 suggested that I might should flash you. Hmm, now I want to post of pic of a bodybuilder with my profile's head on it, but there isn't time right now. I've got to run out and do a survey this morning, so I'm gonna give a little leg and take it right back. [pulls up pantleg to calf-high and quickly re-conceals] :)

I'll post back later, but happy birthday!

Mowing the minefield... again

From Jenzilla (someone please tell me how to link to someone else's site and still get to write just "Jenzilla")[Edit: fixed, thx to Annex for clarifying]. I was tagged. I tried to duck but couldn't. :)

1. What were three of the stupidest things you have done in your life?

Annex, I did that hyperventilating thing, too. Peer pressure, ya know? I remember hearing strange music. Eerie. Anyway, if I dig deeper, I'll probably find three more of mine that eclipse that, so...

1) Exitted my vehicle, closed and locked the door with the keys still inside and the engine still running
2) Roomed with a good friend in college (bad idea)
3) Wasted time being indecisive in college when it came to choosing a field of study

2. At the current moment, who has the most influence in your life?

Please, allow me to equivocate. In the "fake world" as it is known to some, I gotta say its you blogger babes. In the Texas heat, it's whoever I trust for council that was fortunate to have survived the day. :) Well, more specifically, among those near at hand, it's probably not just one. For better and worst, my family and friends down here are all pretty good at "influencing" me.

For instance, my half sister (the one that puts me in time-out, the thirty-minute silent treatment) is extremely manipulative in my life. Did I say that? I meant influential in my life. Yeah, that's it. :p

3. If you were given a time machine that functioned, and you were allowed to only pick up five people to dine with, who would you pick?

"**Time machine implies they should be people who've passed on, but since the question doesn't say it explicitly I'm not fucking following it." -- Annex

I second that, if only because of #5

1) The grandfather that passed on long before I got here
2) The grandfather that passed on thirteen years after I got here
3) Stanley Kubrick
4) Mahatma Gandhi
5) Scarlett Johannson (hands off, Gandhi! I called dibs!)

4. If you had three wishes that were not supernatural, what would they be?

1) End world hunger/poverty (Edit: I realize Hunzer had the exact same #1)
2) Liberate the world from oppressive regimes
3) Get Scarlett Johannson to help me with the first two & (hehe) one thing else

5. Someone is visiting your hometown/place where you live at the moment. Name two things you regret your city not having, and two things people should avoid.

Regrets :
1) The city is very spread out; it needs to go on a diet... or get better public transit. Anyone else you know drive to their cars in the morning? :p (There's been a light rail initiative going on lately with some rather comical results though)
2) It could stand a PR make-over. It's not a very cosmopolitan city in the public perception, or in reality either for that matter. We're a ways off from getting the Olympics, if you know what I mean.

Avoid:
1) Traffic congestion. Good luck there.
2) Don't get into any pissing contests with the local yokels, and don't mock Texan cultural pride. Do so at your peril. (Don't get me wrong. I love my state, but it's ego and machismo may rival it's geographical size.)

6. Name one event that has changed your life.

The birth of my mother and father. ...It's true. Really though, I can't recall of any major epiphanies that I've had or frying pans upside the head for that matter.

I am reminded of an episode of The Simpsons, though, where Lisa was trying to ready Bart for a competition he was taking part in. She took him up to the top of a mountain, IIRC, sat him down legs crossed, and asked him,"What is the sound of one hand clapping?" (I'm probably paraphrasing here)

Anyway, to which Bart replied, "That's easy. Listen." He clapped his hand together and you could hear the barely audible sound of his fingers hitting his palm.

Lisa was getting frustrated. "No, Bart! It's an ancient Chinese proverb. It's supposed to clear the mind of conscious thought."

Unswayed, Bart insisted, "Lisa, listen." He again hit his fingers against his palm. Finally, Bart looked away from her and sat for a moment. Suddenly, he said, "Oooooo!" He had understood. He was ready.

I'm still fascinated with the fact that I can make that sound with my hand.

7. Tag 3 people.

Haha. :) You mean tag them again? This isn't a high-traffic blog. Everyone who frequents this site or whom I patronize has been tagged, although I don't recall seeing MsThang's yet. Other than that, I'm off the hook! But since I double-posted today, I would like to take this opportunity to shamelessly plug the post below since it was a Herculean effort to get that pic published.

The B-Day Boys

As promised and meant to be coupled with my Ode to Guitar post, here is the long overdue proof that I can play a guitar. That's daddy_maser on the left and ruby_maser on the right.

Okay, okay, I know I'm holding a toy guitar, but I could play that thing like ringing a bell, ... a toy bell. :p

This is a B-Day Boys pic. Not to be confused with the Backstreet Boys. (We play our own instruments afterall). daddy_maser will roll over a new year just three short days after I will.

I was actually supposed to be born on his birthday, but I think I must have sensed the eminent passing of Elvis Presley. It would have been a dour beginning, even if it would have been convenient to have birthdays that coincided. With my singing, something akin to "dreams dying at the speed of sound" as I described it before, you may rest assured I was not spawned to replace the King. The doctor must have slapped all harmony from me when he slapped my ass.

Later tonight, I will fulfill my duty. I know I was "tagged", Jen. Maybe if you'd have slapped my ass, I would have been a little bit more prompt about it ;)

A Post to Rival the Trip Itself

To disclaim, this is not a post of debauchery or hedonism in Seminole country. Oh, that it were, but unfortunately for those of us who like-a da nightlife, this was a family vacation. Damn! I at no time got to dance naked around a bonfire beneath a full moon with Dionysus or "penetrate the evening that the city sleeps to hide".

As always, Mr. Mojo Risin' said it best, but as I recall, there was that infamous Miami concert incident in which Morrison was arrested for "lewd and lascivious acts". So, there definitely was a potential there, but maybe that's just Miami.

Sadly, I was separated from that mecca of all nightspots by a pennisula of swampland, alligator infestation, sinkholes, and, more dangerous still, a formidable skirmish line of Mickey Mouse horseshit. Can't you just see me trying to make a break for it and wade through the armies of family-friendly entertainment to reach the promised land on the other side, only to be clothes-lined by Mickey and having to watch from the ground helplessly as he orders his legions of loyal pre-schoolers to close ranks and rip me to shreds. I'd die within sight of it, hearing the strains of "rhythm is gonna get you", praying that Gloria Estefan would come to my rescue.

That might make for a good bedtime story to scare kids straight, though. "Mickey has a temper, son. Don't cross him."

Anyway, the festivitites started with a trip to Lake Charles, Louisiana, or as I like to call it, Lake Vegas. Afterall, there is only one thing to do there, and it ain't getting married by an Elvis impersonator. So, we left late Friday, and this was as far as we could get. Wanting to break up the drive was a conscious decision since we had an 80-year old in tow.

Upon arrival, they immediately circled the wagons (we were on an indian reservation, hehe) and crashed for the night. I preferred to go and get "scalped" by the casino until 9 a.m. the next morning. I'll spare you the bitchy commentary of how hands were won and lost, but as macho bullshit goes, I can do no wrong at a poker table ;) Leave it to the others to f-up my cabbage patch though. :D I was up, I was down, I came back, etc., etc. I ended a seven hour stretch $100 down. :(

The next day was all drive. Just a long, caffeine-fueled highway hypnosis, hugging the coastline with a stop at a motel in Florida's panhandle. Wake up and end it all with another six or seven hours to the Largo/St. Petersburg area.

We had a condo there on Gulf Boulevard, not very far from Clearwater Beach, and it was very near (maybe 4-5 miles) a condo my grandmother had lived in for several years after my grandfather passed away. And as if it needed to be proven that my grandmother has more drawing power than the rest of us Texans combined, the condo was to serve as a hub from which relatives and friends from the state could descend to see her, the matriach. We also had a few wayward tourists from across the Pond. They wandered in accidentally, but they were looking for washing machines or leasing offices, not her. The nerve! :p

It was evening by the time we made it in that day. My mother decided that we needed to stock up for the stay, so we went to a local grocery store to by $150 dollars worth of supplies. She would call them "necessities" at the time, much of which would eventually become charity when we were cleaning up to leave.

That night Aunt and Cousin #1 came over. They are local residents, very close at hand, and we spent the evening catching up with them and not doing much else.

The next day was proof that it's difficult to get people to act in unison. I awoke late, just about the time my mother was declaring fuck-all and that she was going to the pool (which was 50 yards from the beach. :p ) My grandmother was biding her time (she can't stay out in the heat anyway) until the early afternoon. My 2nd Cousin from the Keys and her daughter, 3rd Cousin from Orlando, were expected in around then. Aunt re-arrived alone with bathing suit, only to find that Grandma was not ready to go out, so we wiled away the afternoon until the aforementioned stragglers arrived. Before they did, we received a visit from a couple that my Grandma had lived by when she hailed from Lakeland. They had moved to condo just across the street from hers in the area before she came to Texas.

In the evening, we had our first chance to go out. Gulf Boulevard is a great strip of real estate in the midsts of a construction glut. There was quite a bit of it going on while we were there, and it marred the landscape somewhat. Nevertheless, it has a great selection of nightlife and restaurants. When deciding where to go eat, I revelled in acting stupid and getting to say, "How's the seafood around here?" :p

We ended up at a local dive that was fashioned after one of Hemmingway's old haunts down in the Keys. We got to see the sun set into the Gulf while we ate. It was lively. There was eight of us all told (Mother, Grandma, Aunt, Cousin #1, her fiance, 2nd Cousin, 3rd Cousin, and myself). The wine flowed like... uh, wine, I guess.

Next day was more of the same, meaning that it was more about family reunion than about sight-seeing or lounging around on the beach. We had a departure. 3rd Cousin was off to the Keys to meet up with her husband for lobstering season activities. And we had another arrival, Cousin #2. She flew down from her home and hubby in Chicago to join in the mayhem. We spent that evening home, ordering pizza and hanging out at the condo.

The next day was Universal Studios for Mother, Cousin #1, and myself. It was about an hour and a half drive both ways. We had a great time. For those not familiar with Universal Studios, it is mostly rides, shops, exhibits, and merchandising, etc. designed around a select group of Universal's movie slate. The Back to the Future ride was a highlight, along with an ironically very-funny showcase of horror movie make-up and effects. Terminator and Twister were good as well.

We had gotten away free and clear all day without over-exerting Cousin #1. You see, she suffers from spina bifida and needs the use of a cane to help her walking. Unfortunately, the luck did not last. We entered The Return of the Mummy ride with just a bit to much good fortune and were blinded-sided by a full-blown rollercoaster in the bowels of a building that concealed it from view.

If little flags were going up, we all missed them. Most of the other rides, with the exception of Back to the Future had been mild. She skipped that one because she was aware of the rather violent shimmying and shaking that went with it. She took a chance on Men in Black, and it turned out to be no sweat. I think we all got a little bit too confident.

The ride started out fine, slowly progressing through mocked-up catacombs. Oooo, the mummy is gonna get you. That sort of thing. Suddenly, the car rotated ominously, slipped backwards and down into a kind of holding area (basically analogous to the barrel of a gun), then began to work its way up the stereotypical rollercoaster inclined ramp. God help us.

The rollercoaster itself only lasted thirty seconds or so, but it was about the most terrifying thirty seconds of my life. Not for myself, it was a thrilling ride though, but for Cousin #1. I was just praying we got out of there without her being hurt. So, after many a twist and turn, it came to a stop. Relieved, Mom and I both turned to Cousin #1 to see if she was okay. Unfortunately, it was all a deception, the ride had a good 10 seconds or so of more track to blast us through before it was really done with us.

When we exitted, Cousin #1 seemed more in a state of shock than pain. The pain was there, but the foreknowledge of it was probably the most traumatic aspect. She seemed stunned and needed a long break of sitting before we could make our way out of the park. She was a trooper though and good-naturedly endured an I Love Lucy exhibit before we headed back to the coast again.

As a footnote, we relaxed in the exit hall of the ride before exitting the building. Cousin #1 got her strength back. We missed the opportunity to see pics they took of us that they were trying to pawn off on everyone at probably some ridiculous price. It's a good thing we did, too. I don't think I could bear to see a pic of myself looking like I'm about to crap my pants out of fear for my cousin. It's comforting to know that the other passengers in our car probably bought them and will save them for posterity. Future generations can have a good laugh, not knowing what we were going through.

That night, seven of us went out to eat and watch an on-again off-again boyfriend of another 3rd Cousin of mine perform. Cousin #1 survived the day and still came out despite our thinking that she might not. Ironically, the one casualty was actually my mother. She was having an unpleasant allergic reaction around her eyes to some topical concoction she was using and, so, stayed home.

One-Man-Band-Stan (not his actual name) really does put on a show. I'd seen him once on a previous trip, and as a guitar picker myself, I really enjoy a virtuoso performer. He mixes his own background music, and through the course of this show in particular, he sang and accompanied himself with no less than an electric guitar, alto saxophone, and a violin as the songs required. Boilerplate stuff, mostly crowd-pleasers. Still, him performing in restaurants is a sad testament to pop music priorities these days.

Almost there, folks. The last day was another adventure away from the coast. This time we all traveled to Lakeland for a trip down memory lane. We all visited my grandfather's grave and went to see the house they had lived at while residing in Lakeland. We spent a few hours after that at a doctor's office. My mother had scheduled a visit to deal head on with the allergic reaction she was having.

In the evening we went to a small get-together at the condo of my grandmother's friends, the ones that had visited us briefly on the first full day we were there. Afterwards, the "kids" (if you can call any of us that now that the youngest, myself, is about to turn twenty-eight) went out to see a band that Cousin #1 and her fiance were familiar with. It was a very up-tempo cover band that put on a good show. Unfortunately, we needed to return to the condo for good-byes before the train pulled out the next morning for home. So, just at the first opportunity to get really out of hand, we had to pack it in.

Next morning we cleaned the apartment and were off. I can see us fishtailing at the turn west towards home, peeling the highway up with our g-forces a la every roadrunner cartoon you've ever seen. Scorching the Florida heat with our speed, in a big damn hurry to get back to the Texas heat we all know and love, being shat on by thunderstorms at regular intervals the whole way back, probably stuff coming off the Gulf.

A trip that started with a casino wouldn't be complete unless it ended with one, too, right? Our last stay-over was in Biloxi. This time, my mother and grandmother would not be denied. They played for several hours while I wandered off to find the poker tables again. See if this sounds familiar... "I'll spare you the bitchy commentary of how hands were won and lost, but as macho bullshit goes, I can do no wrong at a poker table ;) Leave it to the others to f-up my cabbage patch though :D I was up, I was down, I came back, etc., etc. I ended [another] seven our stretch $100 down :( " Every six months or so, it's gotta happen. All told I'm still playing on winnings from better poker trips, but this one was not meant to be.

To paraphrase Hunter S. Thompson for an outro, "There was only one road back to [Houston], US Interstate [10], just a flat-out high-speed burn through [Lake Charles] and [Beaumont] and [Anahuac]. Then on to the [Houston highways] straight into frantic oblivion: safety, obscurity. Just another freak in the Freak Kingdom."

You should hear "Jumpin' Jack Flash" right about now. That post was a trip in itself. Thanks for taking the ride :)

(Editted for content? You've gotta be out of you're freaking mind, I feel like I just gave birth) :o