DAY 9
Destination: El Reno, OK to Tyler, TX
Date: 7.16.97 (Wednesday)
Mileage: 20,715 to 21,042 (327 miles)
Bar(s): Holiday Inn lobby bar, Applebee's
Imbibed: 2 Screwdrivers, 1 Miller Genuine Draft
ONE OF THE THINGS I LOVED MOST ABOUT THIS CRAZY adventure was the chance to hang out with old friends in new surroundings. It started immediately too, when I spent some time gambling for a few hours in Vegas on Day 2 with Carver, my L.A. screenwriter friend and fellow blackjack junkie. Over the next 3+ months I would go on to hang out with a wide assortment of people I have great fondness for all across the country.
On this day 13 years ago I paid a visit to my old friend Victor in his new hometown of Tyler, Tex-ass. Victor was one of my favorite classmates during our high school years in Covina, our smog and strip mall mired hometown 22 miles east of downtown L.A. Most of the guys we hung out with played basketball together, gave each other a lot of shit, got drunk on beer and Boone's Farm most weekends and were mildly obsessed with Jackson Browne. Victor was one of a handful of black kids at our school, which made him about as suburban whitebread as the rest of us.
I called him a few days ago to find out what HE remembered about my visit 13 summers ago.
"Let's see...we got twisted, then drove out to my dad's house," Victor said before uncorking that booming laugh of his. We love that laugh. One of the greatest laughs ever. Right up there with Santa Fe Edmund from Day 5. "Then we had a nice dinner at my friends' house. That couple from the bar down at..."
"Hold on, dude." I had to interrupt. "First of all, we didn't exactly get twisted. And second of all, that was 6 years ago. Not 13."
"Oh," he laughed again. It doesn't take much to get him going. "Okay."
"Remember? This was Day 9 of my 100 days of barhopping trip? I showed up at the end of the day from Oklahoma and you were still working at the Holiday Inn."
"That's right," Victor said. "I got you a free room."
"No, dude, it wasn't free," I pointed out. "Almost though. And I was more than happy to take that big 10% friends and family discount. Thanks for that. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, dude," Victor chuckled. "You're welcome."
"Don't you remember? You were still on the clock. But you said the hotel bar was serving up free drinks for the next hour or so. And so, in the course of my research, I decided to jump all over that shit."
"That's right, dude," Victor laughed some more. "You got pretty toasted."
"No, dude, I did NOT get toasted," I corrected him for the 13,000th time during our friendship. "I didn't get toasted at all. I had a couple cocktails at the bar and talked to this old guy sitting next to me. He'd been a professor at Auburn but now he worked for Union 76. He was an oil guy. And when I told him what I was doing, he said he'd done the very same thing when he was at Oxford 40 years ago — 100 pubs in 100 days. And I was all pissed, thinking: 'Great. So much for my original fucking idea!' Remember that?!"
"Don't recall it, chief," Victor said before busting into his biggest bellylaugh yet.
"C'mon! I was sitting at the bar with this this guy watching CNN reporting live on how Gianni Versace just got murdered in Miami."
"I remember Versace dying."
"Yeah, and they were saying he was killed by a thin white guy from Southern California traveling the country alone."
"Sounds like you, dude," Victor noted.
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight," I confirmed as Victor erupted into more fits of unabashed laughter. "And don't think people weren't looking at me funny after that."
"People have been lookin' at you funny for years, dude," Victor noted before cracking up, not the first time he'd laughed hard and long at his own joke.
"What else do you remember about that visit?" I asked.
"I remember going to the pool with you."
"That was the next day," I pointed out. "At the local park, right? I think I did a few swan dives off the diving board for you while you checked out all the girls and worked on your tan."
"Oh, is that how it went down, chief?" Victor chuckled.
"That's how I remember it. And do you remember the bar we went to that night?"
"Oh, yeah, dude," Victor said with total confidence. "We went to that dark bar..."
"No, dude, we sat at the well-lit bar at Applebee's next door to the Holiday Inn. You know, the place you worked?"
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiight," Victor agreed while managing to simultaneously laugh his ass off.
"We talked about relationships and your marriage and you getting divorced and moving back in with your mom. And then, in the middle of our conversation, a Jackson Browne song suddenly came on."
"That's right!" Victor said, the fog finally lifting.
"And it wasn't even 'Doctor In My Eyes' or 'Somebody's Baby' or 'Running On Empty,'" I reminded him. "It was one of his songs you don't usually hear on the radio."
"Indeed!" Victor recalled excitedly. "They were playing 'The Pretender' on the jukebox."
"Actually," I said, not wanting to rain on his parade, "I don't think it was a jukebox. It was more like the restaurant stereo. And I thought the song was 'Your Bright Baby Blues.'"
"No, dude," Victor pointed out — quite possibly incorrectly, "it was 'The Pretender.'"
"No," I countered, "'The Pretender' was the song that was playing the morning after I lost my virginity. I'm pretty sure it was 'Your Bright Baby Blues.' Or was it 'The Road and the Sky?' Anyway...it was pretty damn cool how that song just popped up from out of nowhere. A little Jackson moment for us."
"Indeed."
"That was a nice pit stop. I loved my one night stand in Tyler. Day 9 was excellent."
"Oh, yeah, dude," Victor agreed. "That was some good times. Good times, indeed. I remember it well."
"Yeah," I said, wringing out every last drop of sarcasm I could. "Clearly."
With that, we both broke into great rolling waves of laughter. Just like we did 30+ years ago. Back when I was schooling his ass on the basketball courts at Charter Oak.
I can just hear Victor laughing his big head off right now all the way out in Tyler —
"Dream on, chief!"
Still dreamin', dude.
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On this day 13 years ago I paid a visit to my old friend Victor in his new hometown of Tyler, Tex-ass. Victor was one of my favorite classmates during our high school years in Covina, our smog and strip mall mired hometown 22 miles east of downtown L.A. Most of the guys we hung out with played basketball together, gave each other a lot of shit, got drunk on beer and Boone's Farm most weekends and were mildly obsessed with Jackson Browne. Victor was one of a handful of black kids at our school, which made him about as suburban whitebread as the rest of us.
I called him a few days ago to find out what HE remembered about my visit 13 summers ago.
"Let's see...we got twisted, then drove out to my dad's house," Victor said before uncorking that booming laugh of his. We love that laugh. One of the greatest laughs ever. Right up there with Santa Fe Edmund from Day 5. "Then we had a nice dinner at my friends' house. That couple from the bar down at..."
"Hold on, dude." I had to interrupt. "First of all, we didn't exactly get twisted. And second of all, that was 6 years ago. Not 13."
"Oh," he laughed again. It doesn't take much to get him going. "Okay."
"Remember? This was Day 9 of my 100 days of barhopping trip? I showed up at the end of the day from Oklahoma and you were still working at the Holiday Inn."
"That's right," Victor said. "I got you a free room."
"No, dude, it wasn't free," I pointed out. "Almost though. And I was more than happy to take that big 10% friends and family discount. Thanks for that. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, dude," Victor chuckled. "You're welcome."
"Don't you remember? You were still on the clock. But you said the hotel bar was serving up free drinks for the next hour or so. And so, in the course of my research, I decided to jump all over that shit."
"That's right, dude," Victor laughed some more. "You got pretty toasted."
"No, dude, I did NOT get toasted," I corrected him for the 13,000th time during our friendship. "I didn't get toasted at all. I had a couple cocktails at the bar and talked to this old guy sitting next to me. He'd been a professor at Auburn but now he worked for Union 76. He was an oil guy. And when I told him what I was doing, he said he'd done the very same thing when he was at Oxford 40 years ago — 100 pubs in 100 days. And I was all pissed, thinking: 'Great. So much for my original fucking idea!' Remember that?!"
"Don't recall it, chief," Victor said before busting into his biggest bellylaugh yet.
"C'mon! I was sitting at the bar with this this guy watching CNN reporting live on how Gianni Versace just got murdered in Miami."
"I remember Versace dying."
"Yeah, and they were saying he was killed by a thin white guy from Southern California traveling the country alone."
"Sounds like you, dude," Victor noted.
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight," I confirmed as Victor erupted into more fits of unabashed laughter. "And don't think people weren't looking at me funny after that."
"People have been lookin' at you funny for years, dude," Victor noted before cracking up, not the first time he'd laughed hard and long at his own joke.
"What else do you remember about that visit?" I asked.
"I remember going to the pool with you."
"That was the next day," I pointed out. "At the local park, right? I think I did a few swan dives off the diving board for you while you checked out all the girls and worked on your tan."
"Oh, is that how it went down, chief?" Victor chuckled.
"That's how I remember it. And do you remember the bar we went to that night?"
"Oh, yeah, dude," Victor said with total confidence. "We went to that dark bar..."
"No, dude, we sat at the well-lit bar at Applebee's next door to the Holiday Inn. You know, the place you worked?"
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiight," Victor agreed while managing to simultaneously laugh his ass off.
"We talked about relationships and your marriage and you getting divorced and moving back in with your mom. And then, in the middle of our conversation, a Jackson Browne song suddenly came on."
"That's right!" Victor said, the fog finally lifting.
"And it wasn't even 'Doctor In My Eyes' or 'Somebody's Baby' or 'Running On Empty,'" I reminded him. "It was one of his songs you don't usually hear on the radio."
"Indeed!" Victor recalled excitedly. "They were playing 'The Pretender' on the jukebox."
"Actually," I said, not wanting to rain on his parade, "I don't think it was a jukebox. It was more like the restaurant stereo. And I thought the song was 'Your Bright Baby Blues.'"
"No, dude," Victor pointed out — quite possibly incorrectly, "it was 'The Pretender.'"
"No," I countered, "'The Pretender' was the song that was playing the morning after I lost my virginity. I'm pretty sure it was 'Your Bright Baby Blues.' Or was it 'The Road and the Sky?' Anyway...it was pretty damn cool how that song just popped up from out of nowhere. A little Jackson moment for us."
"Indeed."
"That was a nice pit stop. I loved my one night stand in Tyler. Day 9 was excellent."
"Oh, yeah, dude," Victor agreed. "That was some good times. Good times, indeed. I remember it well."
"Yeah," I said, wringing out every last drop of sarcasm I could. "Clearly."
With that, we both broke into great rolling waves of laughter. Just like we did 30+ years ago. Back when I was schooling his ass on the basketball courts at Charter Oak.
I can just hear Victor laughing his big head off right now all the way out in Tyler —
"Dream on, chief!"
Still dreamin', dude.
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