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.