Did I ever tell you about the time?
I woke up laying across a picnic bench in a pole barn that was being used as storage space for a river raft guide service. I was surrounded by assorted rafting equipment, with a row of large yellow rafts placed single file end to end down the center alley way of the barn. It looked like some crude hastily manufactured landing strip laid out in anticipation of a crash landing, the bright yellow rafts lighting the runway to a safe landing that must not have ended so safely. The raft at one end of this rudimentary landing pad was covered in blood, and a trail of blood lead out of the barn into the darkness. There was more blood than would seem acceptable to most reasonable people. I stood up quickly to investigate the scene and inspect my person, smacking my head on an oar that was jutting out of a rack. This knocked me off my feet which were difficult enough to gather under myself in the first place. My head was throbbing, the taste of vomit in my mouth and the feeling of a someone using my intestines to tie a half hitch knot confirmed my suspicion that the feeling of a vice crushing my gray matter was the cause of something other than the recent head trauma I had suffered. Must be the empty bottle of tequila clinched in my fist with bleeding knuckles. Quickly assessing if the puddle of blood had poured from my body and determining it had not, I turned my attention to why I was sitting in the barn and what the hell could have happened to my shoes.
A few weeks earlier I was putting the finishing touches on a freezer door and called Bud over to give me a hand flipping it over so I could send it down the line to shipping. After we flipped the door we leaned against a table, Bud pulled out a pack of Marlboros shook it and offered me one. We stood there smoking our cigarettes and discussing what we did to deserve this shitty life, or more realistically what we didn't do to deserve a better one. The supervisor walked up and asked when we thought Mike would be back. We recently started a rotation of voluntary lay-offs and Mike was among the first to volunteer. Bud looked at the ground to avoid Hinks gaze. I laughed and told Hink Mike wasn't coming back. Hink said "get the fuck outta here man, seriously I haven't heard from his white ass, he was 'spose to be back this week." This time Bud and I both laughed, the kind of deep guttural laugh that bursts up from your belly involuntarily like a fart you couldn’t squelch. I tried to choke back my amusement before speaking. "Hink seriously he aint coming back, he went down to
It's about an eleven hour drive from
It wasn't long before I lit a smoke, drank a Mountain Dew the original energy drink and popped a few ephedrine tablets to keep me going. It was around 3:30 in the morning and I was a little more than an hour and a half from cruising into
Talking Tenessee (Part Two) coming soon