·Travelogue #37
(Its high time to start writing again, to get out the mental dialogue into something more tangible. Stories are fictionalizing in proportion to the truth like a soup--does it need more false-salt, or is it past the point of no-return, and should I just throw it in down the sink?)
The Fault of the Faulty
Greensburg, Pennsylvania. Why? Because its not New Stanton, Pennsylvania. Why? Because after you've waited on the side of the road with a beautiful Sharmini for HOURS, waving at traffic towards an impossible on-ramp toward Interstate 70, New Stanton becomes a bit Old.
A goldfish-faced girl and her handsome male companion finally picked us up in a rickity coupe. This, after coming up with various gimmicks to entice rides: dance routines, smiles that made my jowls howl in lactic acid fatigue, and a failed attempt at hippy ESP ("Our next ride is going to be a black sedan... Now, concentrate!").
Simultaneously, a red-haired woman, pale, that can not be described in no other way than trailer trash, ran over to us, gave us a cold Mountain Dew can and $10. I quickly thanked Trailer Trash lady, citing her "NOLA" tattoo, smiling (New Orleans, LouisiAna) in response to her "my old man and I've been there before."
There? Lord, it seemed like reparations for being stranded in New Stanton.
But, alas! As all happy endings are never ending set-ups for eventual yin-yang yo-yo failure, we were dropped in front of a shopping mall. Suburban, consumer onslaught--no rides! Goldfish admitted to us that she had only been driving a month despite having more than 3 Pennsylvania maps, and despite reassuring us that yes, we were on Interstate 70, we were actually in Greensburg. Why? Because... Forget it, you ask too many questions.
The dynamic between Goldfish and Handsome was surely to fail. She, too much make-up and breasts pushed up beyond desperation. He, just in from Oklahoma. She listened to Handsome with little conflict. Handsome was manipulating Goldfish for a place to stay. Surely, you've been there--"take one for the team," says your bullying body to your frightened libido. Handsome even put his arm around Goldfish, though Handsome admitted that he was dating Goldfish's friend. When Sharmini asked if they were friends, he answered "just friends". Italicized friends. Oh, Handsome... Goldfish's make-up seemed to crack in my mind's eye with yearning. Poor Carassius auratus auratus...
I offered them the Mountain Dew in the mall parking lot. Handsome said "no, thank you." They were very gracious to help us. Sharmini and I disappeared into the hills of Greensburg to sleep among the midnight-puffing deer, the powerlines, and apartment buildings.
The Fault of the Faulty
Greensburg, Pennsylvania. Why? Because its not New Stanton, Pennsylvania. Why? Because after you've waited on the side of the road with a beautiful Sharmini for HOURS, waving at traffic towards an impossible on-ramp toward Interstate 70, New Stanton becomes a bit Old.
A goldfish-faced girl and her handsome male companion finally picked us up in a rickity coupe. This, after coming up with various gimmicks to entice rides: dance routines, smiles that made my jowls howl in lactic acid fatigue, and a failed attempt at hippy ESP ("Our next ride is going to be a black sedan... Now, concentrate!").
Simultaneously, a red-haired woman, pale, that can not be described in no other way than trailer trash, ran over to us, gave us a cold Mountain Dew can and $10. I quickly thanked Trailer Trash lady, citing her "NOLA" tattoo, smiling (New Orleans, LouisiAna) in response to her "my old man and I've been there before."
There? Lord, it seemed like reparations for being stranded in New Stanton.
But, alas! As all happy endings are never ending set-ups for eventual yin-yang yo-yo failure, we were dropped in front of a shopping mall. Suburban, consumer onslaught--no rides! Goldfish admitted to us that she had only been driving a month despite having more than 3 Pennsylvania maps, and despite reassuring us that yes, we were on Interstate 70, we were actually in Greensburg. Why? Because... Forget it, you ask too many questions.
The dynamic between Goldfish and Handsome was surely to fail. She, too much make-up and breasts pushed up beyond desperation. He, just in from Oklahoma. She listened to Handsome with little conflict. Handsome was manipulating Goldfish for a place to stay. Surely, you've been there--"take one for the team," says your bullying body to your frightened libido. Handsome even put his arm around Goldfish, though Handsome admitted that he was dating Goldfish's friend. When Sharmini asked if they were friends, he answered "just friends". Italicized friends. Oh, Handsome... Goldfish's make-up seemed to crack in my mind's eye with yearning. Poor Carassius auratus auratus...
I offered them the Mountain Dew in the mall parking lot. Handsome said "no, thank you." They were very gracious to help us. Sharmini and I disappeared into the hills of Greensburg to sleep among the midnight-puffing deer, the powerlines, and apartment buildings.
