Stan

“Ever wonder where we would be if our lives had taken different paths instead of the ones that have lead us to this point? Where would we be instead of here, at this moment, at this place? Have you ever stopped to consider the possibilities?”


“No. I have not considered the possibilities.” came Stan’s response while strapped to the lawn chair.

“You really should entertain those thoughts, they could help you realize the err in your ways.”

“What errs? My life choices are those of my own, no one elses. Why should I reflect back upon the life that I have lead to try to pinpoint spots in my life that would have been better served if I had taken some other direction?”

“You say your life is without mistakes or without regret? That everything you have done has gone the way you have wanted to, without any surprises or failures?”

“I have made mistakes, I do have regrets. Everything has not gone the way I have wanted to. I have had failures, losses and tragedy but there is no way to go back to change any of it. The past is the past, only there to learn from and to reflect back upon, with the good and the bad.”

“So you would change nothing then?” inquired the man.

“Not at all. To change a regret, a mistake or a failure would change the person that I am today. Would mean removing an experience that I was able to learn from, to alter what I am.”

Stan is a father of two little girls, ages three and five, married to a beautiful woman for the past eight years, owns a house in the suburbs, works for as an attorney in a large firm downtown and has recently been abducted by a psychopath. He will not be missed for several days as his family is away visiting her parents; it is a three day weekend with the office closed and Stan stayed behind to do some extra work on an important case for a client.

Of all the inopportune times to be a workaholic, this is the worst time, Stan thought to himself as the man takes his life from him.

Sinking Down

A car crashes into an algae crusted pond late at night off of a lonely road.  Inside, a man sits at the wheel staring through the windshield as if locked into some sort of trance as the green water swirls up and around his feet.  In his mind, he thinks back to how he ended up plunging into a fetid pond, what actions lead him to this moment, what could he have done differently.

He remembers the party he was attending that his buddy was throwing for no particular reason but to throw one.

He remembers the booze…

“How much did I have to drink?” He thinks to himself while still seated in the drivers seat as the water is now up to his knees and still rising.

He arrived at the party late, not fashionably late since nothing about him is fashionable, but late since he was too busy trying to decide if he was going to make the party or not; even after he had told his buddy that indeed, he would be going and not to worry.  Once there he started to drink as was everyone else at the party but not to any sort of extreme, just in moderation.

“Something went wrong.  What was it that went terribly wrong?”

There were two drinks consumed.  Two drinks of the Jack and Coke variety.  Two Jack and Cokes that were more Jack than Coke.  Two very stout drinks that were consumed down his gullet.

That was eight hours ago, more than enough time for any drunk to have worn off, if any amount of drunk had even been achieved.  After all, it was only two drinks; two very stout drinks.

“That was it, wasn’t it?  Only two drinks?  Usually there is more, much, much more that is consumed in the course of the night.  Is it possible that during those eight hours that those two drinks was really four or five?  Were any shots taken?”

All he can remember is sitting there in the folding chair on the porch most of the night with everyone else.

“Is that right? Surely I didn’t sit there all night in that chair just being a bump on a log, could I? Was someone feeding me drinks?  Did I prepare all of my drinks, the two stout ones that I did have?”, still pondering as the water now reaches his crotch.

As time continues to pass further and further on, he continues to decipher the evening’s events.  Only to realize that he cannot remember the tiny details of the evening to be able to piece together any sort of proper timeline to be able to figure out what had gone wrong.

There was a new person there amongst the group; a new girl.  What was her name again?  Meredith?  Courtney?  No, wait; it was Angel, Angel Mareth.  A strikingly beautiful woman with long black raven hair, skin an olive complexion and a body that the world’s greatest models would sell their souls to have.  Her parents surely named her aptly, for as it does seem that she was a creature sent from the Heavens to grace Earth.

He remembers chatting her up, she seemed friendly enough and more importantly interested.  He also remembers her offering to make a couple of his drinks; a couple more than the two stout ones that he thought were all that he had made on his own.

“Could she have done something to those drinks?  Why would she do such a thing; that is, if she even did?”

At this point the water has reached his chest, with him still gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, his eyes dancing wildly back and forth as if reading a newspaper very quickly.

He remembers just after saying his goodbyes to the group but just before getting into his car, she ran to him to personally wish him a safe trip with a memorable kiss.  A kiss that sent a chill through his body that caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end.  A kiss that was like no other that he had experienced before, a kiss for the ages.

The water has now reached his mouth and as he gasps for his next breath, his lungs are filled with the water.  He chokes and tries to spit out the putrid death that he has now inhaled, but it is an exercise in futility.  As he loses consciousness, all he can see is Angel.

Once he awakens, he is standing on the edge of the pond looking at the final gurgling bubbles coming from his still sinking car.  He looks to his side and there is Angel standing there, she smiles and extends her hand to him.  He takes it and they turn to walk down the dark road into the night.

BamaJam: 3

Morning of day three arrives with a clear sky, a clear head and me with a developing sunburn that will most likely develop into some sort of new diagnosis of skin cancer that has yet to be seen in the medical field.

Wonderful.

Again the Hardee's pimps roll through, once more I buy biscuit sandwiches. Though this time I opt for the sausage ones, hoping that the grease from the sausage moistens the biscuits this time; which it so lovingly does.

There are some showers near the camp and considering the fact that sleeping in a tent isn't the coolest thing in the world, especially in early June, I need one. Now these are not some outdoor wooden crate showers but some deluxe mobile trailer private shower facilities. Sweet. Too bad that the mens shower is out of water when we get there. Some other guy informs me that, "water is on the way, in a few minutes."

Somehow a few minutes in Alabama translates to an hour if you follow any sort of regular time keeping like the rest of the world. Unfortunately I left before the water got there, walked back to camp, open car to check phone, to see that it is ringing and it is my friend informing me that the water has arrived.

I walk back to the showers to find they are filled and I have to wait a minute before one becomes available. Now the purpose of the shower is to cool you off, get some stink off of you and some of the excess grime that may have accumulated from the day before so that when you finish, you can start sweating once more as you towel off and get dressed.

Once back to camp it is time to start drinking so the first beer of the day is opened. It is 9 or 10 am. If you don't start drinking in the morning, you can't say you've been drinking all day.

Now the day before we start off with 36 beers. Probably only drank four or six total; so that would leave 30 at the least for the last day. I was drinking one after the other; as well as my friend and when we finished, there was only one beer left on Sunday. I'm not sure how the split went, but that is a lot of beer for two people.

Of course I wasn't drunk enough and made a mix drink. Half Jim Beam Rye and half coke.

I consumed said drink.

I made a second.

Now this is where things get fuzzy. I remember making second drink; my friend confirms this, I do not remember consuming second drink.

We leave to catch the bus to ride to the concert, make it on a bus and I start talking and do not stop for the next couple of hours.

Murphy has arrived.

Once being molested by the security checking for knives and such, we make it in and get a spot. We watch a few people, I try my hand at picture taking...drunk. Which equates to only one pic of the whole weekend that I have.

Shows why stand alone cameras are still being made as opposed to everyone just using their cell phones.

We make our way to a spot, set up the chairs, drink some more and watch somebody play. Now I am too far gone at this point to even know who is playing, let alone care.

At some point it starts to rain, drizzle, sprinkle and we grab our stuff and head to this big pavilion to wait it out. I remember fiddling with a fan that was off. We left at some point to head back to camp. I have been told that we walked back, I remember none of this. Once back to the camp, we eat and I believe some more beers are consumed, then we go back.

I remember hearing Gretchen Wilson, Travis Tritt, Buddy Guy on that night...after them who knows.

I made it out without any bruises, cuts, scrapes, fights or threats on my life. I was told that I was freakin' hysterical...which I like hearing; too bad Murphy doesn't stay out all the time.

On Sunday when packing up to leave, noticed the sorority girls truck was missing. Now that can mean one of two things, 1) they got busted for the third night in a row or 2) they met some people and hooked up. I would hope that it would be no. 2 but knowing there luck, their 'hook up' ends up being a 'knocked up'.

I did learn a valuable lesson, the car does not like long trips at all.

Last October on a trip to Georgia, a cv axle broke and this time the transmission decided to go out. At least this time the car went down after getting most of the way home...at least I was in PC...this time.

FML

BamaJam: II

Morning of the second day comes and it is good. It is Friday, my friend that will be joining me gets off at noon and will be on their way up shortly thereafter.

Hardee's is cruising the campground like a dealer looking for new clients at a playground, so I oblige them and purchase two bacon and cheese biscuits. I am not sure if it was my mouth that was too dry to commit to consuming them or the biscuits were, but it required me drinking two bottles of water to finish the task of choking them down.

Once Navy woke up and Bamas, I started hanging out at their area listening to their stories and having my ass parked on a cooler. Which was quite unfortunate for me since that was the cooler the beer was and anytime that someone needed one...I had to get up, but I was trying to stay in the shade so I forced myself not to be bothered by it all that much.

The spot next to me was empty the day before but the morning of the second day there was a truck and tent now there. The people that were occupying the spot were some sorority girls from Tallahassee. These poor girls had the worst luck the entire time there as it seems that on the first night they got busted for being underage. Now they did not have a "Drinking Age" armband and were hanging with some people that were drinking and ABC (Alabamas beer nazis) had them blow. Which they did and away they went. Seems one of them blew over and went to jail, the others got fines and court dates.

I left about 11 am to go get my friend and we made it back about 4 pm with two 18 packs of beer. We had a few of those beers that afternoon, but they were cool and no wheres near cold enough to cause instantaneous brain aneurysm; which is the way all beer should be served.

We went to hear some bands and came back after a little bit to get the chairs, then went back once more.

The second night and third night are kinda of a blank to me as to what really happened. Now I know what happened on the third night; well parts of it, but the second night I think it rained some...think being the operative word there.

That is it for day two. I know not as exciting as day one and day three most likely won't be near as exciting either, but you can be the judge of that.

BamaJam: Part Uno

If you have been reading my little dot on the www, then you've read this; which was a post about me counting down waiting for BamaJam to get here.

Well it did, I went and it was a freaking blast.

Now if you are not aware of what BamaJam is, let me tell you; it is a redneck Woodstock. Just to over simplify it for you. Truth of the matter, it is the best time one can have with over 100,000 of your closest friends...in a field.

Like last year, BamaJam had one main stage, that was mostly country acts and mostly bigger country acts at that; a secondary stage, that was some lesser or up and coming country acts or some acts that were more alternative; two smaller stages that were more local acts that you probably didn't care about anyways.

First day there I went up solo but was quickly invited to hangout with some local bamas and some Navy guys from Pensacola. After awhile some more people showed up to the group and after a bit more, we were invited to some flip cup by some more locals.

I'll tell you what, that was a close game of flip cup. My side nearly won with Navy and a Coastie on my side. Almost beating the locals...almost.

First night, stayed at second stage or stage B as it was listed to catch last bit of Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Robert Earl Keen, Marty Stuart and His Super Superlatives, and the Zach Brown Band.

During watching the bands, which were all quite good; I decided to start drinking. Now since I got there; besides playing flip cup, I had not had an alcoholic drink, so I got a beer. Then two. Then decided I wanted to eat so I walked back to camp made a sandwhich...then cracked open a bottle, taking a shot. Then drinking half a coke and topping with some rye whiskey and proceeded to walk back to the concerts.

Once back, I continued drinking, wandering around, drinking and then decided that I like free shit.

Now free shit is great. Everybody loves free, even if you have no use for it, you are most likely going to take it since it is...free.

There was a Camel Experience there. Which translates to free tobacco. I don't use tobacco in anyway shape or form but...I like...free.

I got kicked out of the Camel Experience.

Why?

Murphy...my alter drinking ego was taking control.

Now, if you have not been around me or shall I say when Murphy is in control...I talk...a lot. Some will say that I am funny or annoying but still entertaining. Problem with Murphy, is he says things that shouldn't be said. Like the fact that I do not use tobacco. Which means that even later when you say you were joking, doesn't count with the Camel people.

They asked me to leave.

The rest of the night was me wandering around, drinking and watching the rest of the bands till I got bored and went back to camp to bed.

That's it.

Let The Dead Be

I am going to preface this that I was not the biggest fan of Dio; not anything to do with his beliefs or politics, I just did not like Dio Sabbath and prefer Sabbath with Ozzy. Beyond that, I have nothing against the man.




Ronnie James Dio died May 16, 2010 after a long battle with stomach cancer. He was the singer of Elf, Rainbow, Black Sabbath, Heaven & Hell as well as his own band, Dio. There was a funeral/memorial service for the singer in Los Angeles on May 30 attended by some 1,200 fans as well as members of other bands to honor the man.



Now as well as those in attendance inside, there was the Westboro Baptist Church outside protesting. If you are not familiar with this particular group, they are the same group that protests the funerals of fallen American soldiers, funerals of murdered abortion doctors, the victims of the Sago Mine accident, as well as any other group/funeral/tragedy that they deem necessary.



In America you have the Freedom of Speech, which unfortunately, allows this group to be able to protest anywhere they want for the most part and against any group that they so desire, including that of the deceased.



I am all for the right for you, me or them to be able to protest anything; within reason, without having to worry too much about being harassed by the government or law enforcement, but sometimes discretion is better than being a vocal antagonist to those the dead or those that are fighting for you to have that freedom you are using.



I don’t see why anyone would want to protest a funeral or memorial service for anyone, let alone a fallen member of the armed forces, but you should just let it go. After all, if you did not agree with the person or their beliefs or their way of life, so what, they are now deceased and of no more threat to your way of life. By protesting against their memory, you are only strengthening their followers to be against your ways of thinking. They see your hate towards someone that they entertained them, taught them, loved them, raised them, was just a part of them and will rally against who you are, as well as what you teach and believe.



After all, you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.



Dio didn’t die of stomach cancer; a dragon ate him.