Chapter 9

The Sound: SuperTramp – Dreamer, The Sweet – Ballroom Blitz, Karl Douglas – Kung Fu Fighting, Seals and Crofts – Summer Breeze, Lou Reed – Sweet Jane, Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On, Bad Company – Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Chaka Khan and Rufus – Something Good, Chicago – 25 or 6 to 4, Rare Earth – I Just Want To Celebrate, Tom Jones – I Who Have Nothing, Cliff Richard – Girl You’ll Be A Woman Soon

As we are de-boarding the plane and I am listening to the announcements for those of us that need to go through US Customs, I reach in my purse to snag my ID.

It is then that I realize that although I have my bucket and my toothbrush and even my freakin ID, I have no money. Nor is the little plastic case that holds all my credit cards there.

“Fuck me” I think, “let me rephrase that…if this ain’t the stupidest thing you’ve ever done Baby girl it is damn close to it.”

So I bullshit my way through Customs and once out in the baggage claim area I sit down on the floor and dump my purse into my helmet to see what I actually have.

Besides a headache, I mean.

ID – check

Toothbrush – check

Eyeshadow – check

Mascara – check

Cigarettes – check

Mike’s Zippo – check

Lipstick – check

Nail clippers – check

Hair Brush – check

Hair Ties – check

Rolaids – check

Socks – check

Cheque book – nope

Change purse – nope

Credit cards – nope

“Aaaaaarrrrrrghhhhhh! Now what the hell???” I snivel to myself.

Then I discover, folded in the lining of my purse, one slim Canadian dime and 3 shiny new Canadian pennies. Pay dirt!

So I load everything back into the purse and head for a payphone to call Boomer. I put my dime in and the US payphone spits it back out. And thinking that there is something the matter with the phone I drop the dime in again only to have it spit back out by the phone.

Then it occurs to me…”Canadian dime, American phone…sheeeeeeeit! Now what the hell?”

A lady walks by and I ask her if she will exchange a Canadian dime for an American one and she says, “how much you got?” When I show her my thirteen cents she snakes it all and drops a US dime in my palm. Cheap bitch!

I call the number that Allan gave me and a big deep accented voice answers, “House o Whore’s Bal’James at your service” he says with a drawl that’d cut butter.

I take a deep breath”, “H-hello” I squeak, “I’m looking for Boomer”

“Heyull is ya’ll da Canadjian gurrul Boomer’s bin a’waitin fowr?” “Hey Boomer! deys a gurrrul on da phone fer ya!”

By the time Boomer gets to the phone Bald James has asked me a multitude of questions I don’t want to answer and lots I can’t even understand cos of that deep south accent. And once again I am thinking maybe I’ll be ok cos I’ll just get Boomer to buy me a ticket home and I’ll wire him the money when I get there.

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