I wrote what happened in Texas in third person, because it didn’t happen to me. I witnessed it. Or somesuch. What follows is true. Enjoy.
“Don’t Mess With Texas”
“I think we’re going in the wrong direction” Alex said. It’d been over an hour since they’d seen another car, another person, or any kind of sign of life. They were in the middle of nowhere. Actually, they were somewhere. Unfortunately, neither of them knew where. It was a horrible situation. The signs indicating county roads passed by again and again. The numbers on the signs blended together, CO Road 535 could just have easily have been 593 or 395.
It was a spontaneous decision, to go to Texas .
“Do you want to go to Texas ?” Alex said over the phone to Josh
“Why is it we are going to Texas ?” He said feigning disinterest.
“I bought a car through EBay, I gotta go pick it up” Alex said matter of factly.
“I’ll be over there in a half hour” Josh said.
After a quick shower and some minor packing, Josh set off. His back pack was filled with essentials; an IPod, an English book, a pillow sans case. It was planning at its finest. He scrawled on a piece of paper “Gone to Texas . Pray for me”. Planting it firmly in his door, he left. 
Josh and Alex were flying standby on passes from an airline pilot buddy. It was an awesome deal. Pay the tax, take the flight. That’s it. The guy behind the counter had gotten on top of the luggage scale and started waving his hands in an SOS fashion. He was several counters away, but instead of waving his hands saying he needed help, he meant he could help them. He was an older gentleman of about 60. He had white hair and a “Gitr done attitude”. “If you guys want to wait in line, you can get back in line when you’re done here, but I think I can help you” he said. His temperament was drastically different from all of the other people behind the counter. They stood stiff pecking at the keys and glaring at the terminals in front of them. This man flowed. He was liquid. Every gesture was calculated, every key stroke seamless. He’d done it a million times before, and it showed. As the tickets printed he remarked, “So you guys are flying one way?”
A nod in his general direction was all he got as a response. The two boys were shocked at how coordinated this man was. “Have you ever been handled by the TSA?” Surprised at how he said handled, both boys said “no”. The way he said it you could have put a million words in it’s place. His bureaucratic, politically correct speech was something that sounded like it went away when he took off his Southwest name tag.
Fully ticketed and ready to embark they walked down the large airport hallway. It was empty for the most part. Only a few people speckled the dry, cool terminal. Some spoke other languages, others spoke different variations of English. “I’m Fixin’ to get some football in” Said one man. The next person they passed had a British accent “That’s quite alright, Doyle…”
The line for security was empty. They evaded the ribbons that ultimately made up the ‘traveler coral’ when the lines get long. The woman sitting behind the security podium looked like she hadn’t seen another person all day. She was a heavy woman, and she sat perched on some official looking stool that was way to small for her. She glanced at the two boys in front of her, and again at the tickets. “Congratulations,” she said in a small voice. “You’ve been selected for a special screening process.” She pointed in the direction of some uniformed gentleman.
The resulting five minutes was invasive to say the least. Belts, Wallets, Phones, Glasses, Shoes, and some pens all littered the industrial grey plastic bins. Magnetic wands expertly glided over the two travelers. They shot looks at each other; something reminiscent of “You fucking terrorist. This is all your fault.” After the two gentleman were done patting the boys down they waited while their stuff was searched. The lady behind the fold up table was searching their things. She was pretty, and fair skinned. She couldn’t have been more than 25, and was struggling to maintain a professional demeanor. Josh riddled her with questions, determined on making her laugh. The average spectator probably couldn’t tell if Josh was being empathetic to her doldrums job of thumbing through other peoples wallets or being pathetic and hitting on the TSA girl. At the time it was a little of column A and a little of column B.
As she was thumbing through his walled, Josh asked,
“So have you ever found anything in someone’s bag that made you happy you were wearing those blue gloves?”
“Yeah, plenty of times.” She said.
“I bet. You don’t try to coordinate your jewelry to that blue do you? I hear latex is the coolest new accessory.” Josh said.
“No, I don’t coordinate my jewelry with the gloves. We’re not even really allowed to wear jewelry.” She said half offended, half amused.
“Have you had the chance to search anybody really famous yet? I feel like that’d be a huge perk of the job; frisking some celeb.” Josh quipped.
“Some WNBA woman came through last night. She’s not that famous, but I think she’s loaded. For someone with so much money, she was walking around in sweat pants.” Said the girl, her sense of vanity showing through.
By this time she’d finished searching everything and was struggling to stuff the pillow back in the back pack. She had it all the way tucked in but couldn’t manage to manipulate the zipper into closing.
“I’ll take care of that” Josh said, taking back his back pack. He closed the bag in one zip, smiled at the TSA girl one more time, and started walking with Alex to the gate.
The plane was tiny. It couldn’t have held more than one hundred people. All of them were going from Arizona to Texas . They sat in the emergency exit row. Before take off, the flight attendant came up to them and after asking if they spoke English gave them some spheal about being able and ready to perform the actions associated with 
sitting in the emergency exit row. She recited verbatim this script. It ended with, “I’ll need a verbal yes from each of you. That you’re able, willing and able to perform the duties associated with the emergency exit row.”
Alex looked at her, nodded and said “Yes.”
The flight attendant looked at Josh.
“Verbal Yes!” He said in a cavalier manner.
“Cocky little shit.” Thought the flight attendant.
However, they both knew the truth. Should the plane start plummeting from the sky, everyone was fucked. It’s a grim reality. The small picture of the stick figure opening the emergency door was true to life except for one small detail. The flames. Engulfing the plane. And it sure as hell didn’t illustrate the screams of the other passengers in little speech bubbles. In a situation like this a “Verbal Yes” means a lot. Josh felt like if he was going to die, at least his legs wouldn’t be cramped in the final hours of his life.
Austin was much cooler than Phoenix albeit much more humid. It was overcast and grey as they got off the airplane. The approach into Austin was something that could have very easily been hosted by Robin Leech. Upscale river side communities dotted the landscape. The winding roads leading to large houses were dotted with swimming pools behind them. Not to mention the snaking river behind all of these houses. Power boats decorated the river with pretty white wakes.
“We should really check out Austin . I hear it’s a sweet city” Josh said.
Nearly shaking, Alex was freaking out. The cold airport was full of glass. Windows let the grey light from outside spill inside. “We need to gas and go. We need to gas and go”. Alex said. And repeated.
“Well, we should at least check out The University of Texas at Austin . They’re playing tonight, I’m sure it’s going to be a wild night on campus.” Josh pushed.
“We really gotta gas and go, we can’t afford any delays.” Said Alex. He was clearly freaking out.
“Where are we rushing to?!” Said Josh
“We gotta go.” Said Alex. Panic had set in and was wreaking havoc in his head. Alone in Austin bounced across his temples a couple of times. You could see it in his face.
After finding this Ebay truck in parking lot F, row 9. They gave it the once over. Josh kicked the tire. It was slippery with tire shine. Alex checked for a spare and a jack. He checked the oil, wiping the dipstick off with his fingers. “It’ll get us back to Phoenix ” Alex declared. Josh nodded in blind agreement. For a moment both stared at the engine, “Yup” one said right after the other. They closed the hood, and got in. Josh got in first, and immediately took a step out. Trying to be nonchalant. The truck smelled like a mens room. It had that minty fruit smell of urinal cakes. The smell had been baked in after sitting in Austin waiting for them. It was wretched, and one look at Josh’s face would have told you that. It smelled as if it had been detailed by a McDonald’s men’s room.
They set off in the car, windows rolled full down to avoid breathing too much of that wonderful smell. The Texas air was heavy as it rolled through the windows. Darkness was rapidly falling on the city. The highway was littered with construction and detours. The Mapquest directions they had were woefully inadequate for navigating the less than auspicious Austin landscape. Soon, the basic components of the city they flew into became more and more sparse. Suddenly, they found themselves surrounded by farm land on all sides, darkness creeping towards the 
horizon, and the only thing in sight were the red beacon lights from a radio tower in the distance. Josh was struck by the vastness of it all. Alex, was driving fast. There were places to be and time to make. Josh found discomfort in the fact the parts of a play, The Laramie Project, about Laramie Wyoming, had tried to describe this, but had done a poor job. It wasn’t the vastness that bothered Josh, it was the isolation. It was the fact that as they went up and down one hill, their was another just ahead, and that damn radio tower didn’t seem to be getting any closer. It was just blinking red lights in space now. It was a kind of half star, mocking them with it’s blinking.
The hours seeped by as the smell slowly seeped out. It seemed as if they kept going up and down the same hill. Texas was hopelessly dark. The road was the only thing lit up in the shroud of darkness. Occasionally they’d pass some mile marker, or historical sign.
“I think we’re going in the wrong direction” Alex said. It’d been over an hour since they’d seen another car, another person, or any kind of sign of life. They were in the middle of nowhere. Actually, they were somewhere. Unfortunately neither of them knew where. It was a horrible situation. The signs indicating county roads passed by again and again. The numbers on the signs blended together, CO Road 535 could just have easily have been 593 or 395.
Soon the small towns they were passing through became farther and farther apart. Adding up some numbers, and formulating some theories Alex came up with the idea that they were at least off by 200 miles, maybe more. Neither boy would have been shocked to have seen a “Welcome to Oklahoma ” sign in the distance.
After some bickering as to where to ask for directions the boys settled on stopping at the next gas station to figure out just where they were, and figure out where they needed to be going. Sure enough, a large orange Shell sign popped over a hill a half hour down the road. It was classic Texas . At the cross roads of Route 281
and Route 6 was a small convenience store. The Texas map they sprawled out over the rack of maps, brochures and shoe shine confirmed their worst fears. They were in fact 200 miles out of their way, and in the middle of the Lone Star State . Reading a map is one thing, and knowing where to go is quite another. They tacitly decided to ask for some directions. Alex, being the quieter of the two yielded Josh to do all the talking. The man behind the counter was round. He wore a black shirt, with nothing on it, and black pants. They say black is supposed to be slimming. Hopefully this guy was working under that assumption. His name was Hogle. He spoke with a thick Texas drawl. The second the two boys walked in the convenience store he knew they were lost. Spotting outsiders isn’t hard when you know everyone in the town. When the county road number is higher than the population, these things are easy to spot.
“We need some directions” Josh said noticing this man’s name was Hogle.
“Where Y’all headed?” He said, confirming just about every pre-conceived notion Josh ever had of Texas .
“The 10” Josh Said. “Towards Phoenix ”
“Well you could take the 281 here north to the 20, and that to the 10, but let me tell Y’all a shortcut” Hogle said.
He kind of moved about behind the counter. It was almost as if the floor were really hot and he was trying not to step on one spot too long.
As he danced along the floor, he said, “Take the 6, it’ll take the local way through to the 20. It’s faster.
‘Specially at this time of night”
Josh was impressed. Hogle had become the unspoken Hero. Not just a route, but a shortcut! Alex was happy to feel like they were back on track. After all, the open road was calling. They had places to be. They bought the map, and headed on their way.
It’d been an hour since their run in with Hogle. The situation hadn’t improved much. They were still in the middle of nowhere, cruising through empty small towns in the middle of the night. It was disappointing. The sense of morale in the truck was at an all time low. Hogle’s shortcut was taking most literally hours. The boys were ‘Hauling Balls’ on the back roads. The speed limits were wonderfully contrasting. It’d go from 75 on a road no bigger than a neighborhood drive, to 35 on a wide open avenue. It was somewhere in between the 75 on the neighborhood drive and the 35 on the avenue that the first sign of life appeared in the rear view mirror: Red and Blue lights.
“Shit, we’re being fucking pulled over. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The words rolled out of Josh’s mouth like they’d been said a million times before.
The phrase felt sadly terse without “Hide the weed” or “Fucking stash the beer” or “Sit on the fireworks” being appended on to the end of it. Nonetheless. They were in Texas . In Texas , you don’t get “pulled over by the police”, or get “stopped by the cop.” You “have a run in with The Law”.
Josh rolled down the truck’s manual window, and put an elbow out the window, and a hand on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to make the cop nervous by scouring for papers he may not have had.
“Howdy Officer” Josh said while secretly cursing himself.
“Who the fuck says howdy? You glib son of bitch. Fuck! He’s going to think you’re mocking him. When he sees you’re from jersey you’re fucked. Fuck. I’m going to jail” he thought.
“Hello Gentleman. My name is Officer Thompson. I’m a deputy with the Lampasas County Sheriff’s Office. License, Registration and proof of insurance please.” He said.
He was a man of peculiar build. His top was much larger than his bottom. So much so his legs looked like they belonged to someone else. He had a hollow star tattooed just about the crease of his elbow. He smelled like cigarettes and cheap cigars. Josh felt like a cigarette would not have been out place in his mouth right about now. He needed something to do with his hands in the worst kind of way. After some fumbling and searching the boys managed to produce the papers the officer was looking for. As Josh was handing the papers to the officer, he noticed the deputy wore a pewter chain bracelet. It was adorned with small metal skulls hanging off of the chains. Each skull had two little red gems for eyes. Every single horror movie Josh had ever seen started to flash through his mind. “Fuck” he thought. Then came the questions.
“ New Jersey !?” The officer exclaimed as he looked at the ID. “Where are you boys coming from?”
“Austin, Officer” They replied almost in Chorus.
“Where is it yall are headed?” He asked skeptically.
“ Phoenix ” They again replied in unison like a child caught doing something wrong.
Looking at Josh he started to add things up in his head. “So you’re from New Jersey , why is it you are in Texas headed to Phoenix ?”
Faced with the sudden math problem, Josh started to sweat. The answer was long and arduous, and the last thing he wanted to do was explain this situation to the deputy. Wearing this confusion all over his face, the deputy moved the conversation along.
“Are you in the military? Do you go to school down there?” He prodded.
“I go to school down there.” Josh said. Relieved to have an answer he could say in one breath.
“Where’d yall get this truck?” He asked, sizing it up in his mind.
Praying, pleading, hoping that Alex wouldn’t say Ebay, Josh sat there, and listened to Alex pipe up for the first time all night in the proudest voice possible: “Ebay!”
“Fuck.” Thought Josh.
“So…Y’all bought a truck off of Ebay, and you’re driving it back to Phoenix ?” Asked the Deputy almost in disbelief.
“Yup!” Piped Alex proudly again.
“Fuck.” Thought Josh again. “Fuck.” The word pressed upon his mind. He was unable to think of anything else. “Fuck” it appeared again. He was fighting every instinct he had not to sulk and say “Fuck” out loud.
“Well, I’ll be right, back I’m going to go process your information.” As he walked away.
“Fuck, I’m getting a fucking ticket.” Josh confessed.
“No, you’re getting out of a ticket. Who else has a situation like us?” Alex, always the optimist, said.
“I saw the look on that guys face. I don’t know for what, but I’m getting a ticket.” Josh declared.
The minutes passed very slowly. The red and blue flashing lights lit up the cab of the truck intermittently. Josh closed his eyes hoping to find himself in the passenger seat waking up to a sign that says “Welcome to New Mexico ”. He’d had just about enough of Texas .
Finally, the officer came back. “Ok guys, I’ve processed your information. The reason I pulled you over is that you were doing 53 in a 35. That’s going to be a citation. If you’d have let off the gas a little you’d be in the clear. There’s a 75 mph sign just a couple hundred yards down the road. Let me tell you a little something that’s going to get you back to Arizona without any more traffic stops. It’s labor day weekend, and officers are cracking down from coast to coast. There is no tolerance” He said, sounding like the commercials I constantly hear on the radio. “And they’re just looking for a reason to pull you over.”
He handed the ticket to Josh. “I’mma need you to sign your name right there saying you agree to contact Judge Tennison by 3 weeks from today’s date”
Josh signed the ticket, almost breathing a sigh of relief that this horrible situation was almost over. As he exhaled, the officer started talking again.
“Now, just one more thing and you boys can be on your way. I am a K-9 officer here in the county. What I’m going to do is go get my dog, and walk him around your car. If he doesn’t signal, you boys’ll be on your way. You can either stay in the car, or step outside and watch my animal work. Either way.”
A little bead of sweat had begun to form on Josh’s right temple. He stepped out of the car. As the officer walked back to his car, he opened his back door, and out of the car walked not a German shepherd, or some kind of blood hound, but a wild grey dog. This dog was so fucking happy to be out of that back seat, he stood up on his two hind legs and did a little dance.
It was about this time that little bead of sweat started to teter about on Josh’s forehead. Suddenly, he could see every dime bag of weed he’d put under the sole of his shoe, or every gram he’d conveniently put in that little pocket in his knap sack. Cursing himself for not abusing less pungent drugs, the little drop of sweat ran down the side of his face.
The dog started to walk around the car. In his thick Texas drawl the deputy kept saying “Find it” and clicking his teeth. Suddenly this puppy, who had massive paws, jumps up on the car. His long nails start digging into the burgundy red paint of this brand new truck. This eBay truck. About this time it started to dawn on Josh. What had the previous owners of this car done? The boys had never met them, they simply picked up this car in the airport parking lot. Sweat started to pour from Josh’s face. It was very hot in Texas even though the air was cool, and the night was still. In a moment of delusion Josh could see the hollow door panel holding 7 keys of cocaine. He blinks again. The burgundy has replaced the panel he was looking at. The dog is still scratching the car up. His paws are sliding down the side of this Tacoma with a terrific sound. Josh sees Alex wince every time this beast pounces upon his new truck. As he walks around the far side of the truck Josh can hear the sounds of air rushing into this dogs nostrils, and then these tremendous POOFS as the dogs puffs all the air out through his nose. It sounded like someone pumping up a tire.
Finally, the dog had made it’s rounds around the truck, and didn’t signal he found anything. Hoping this is the last Josh had seen of the beast, he kind of gave the dog a warm look. At which point the dog went back to scratching on the driver’s side door.
“Well boys, my dog didn’t signal he found anything, but he is showing a strong interest to get into the cab of the truck.” The deputy said, suddenly very in touch with his canine side. “Do you consent to a search of the cab of the truck?” He asked.
Josh shot Alex a quick look along the lines of “Tell me now if all this straight edge stuff of yours is bullshit.” Alex responded with a quick nod to search the truck. Playing it cool Josh said “Well, I know how this works, if I don’t consent you’ll get a warrant and we’ll waste everyone’s time. So yeah, I’ll consent to a search of the truck”
The deputy popped the door and let his beast free inside our truck. The dogs nose was relentless. He was pumping that tire full at twice the speed now. By this time Josh was kind of pacing in little circles, and kicking the Texas gravel about. The dog gingerly stepped over the knapsack a couple of times stopping to smell it. “Fuck” Josh though. Again, it pressed upon his mind. Finally, the dog had enough, and with a resounding leap bound out the cab.
“Alright boys, she showed a strong interest, but no dice. Y’all have a nice night, Thanks for being so courteous.” The deputy put the leash in the other hand and reached out to shake Josh’s hand. After wiping his hand on the back of his pants, he shook the deputy’s hand.
He shook like a seal. For a man of the law, his shake left something to be desired. A man who wears a skull bracelet ought to have a good shake. It was disappointing in the least.
They pulled into Arizona about 14 hours later. They’d had enough. Enough driving. Enough of Hogle’s shortcuts, and enough of Goddamn Texas. As Josh got out of the cab, he ran his fingers over the grooves left by the little dogs massive paws. It was the most real thing about the whole trip. That and the 150 dollar ticket in his pocket. The two most tangible things about the whole trip really sucked. Both boys felt better men for the experience though. The trip left both boys in a battered state. They had learned a life lesson though; “Don’t mess with Texas ”.
Josh
I bought a pair of shoes last summer that I consider to be trusted allies. They’re my favorites, and oing with the theme of “Favorites” this week, I decided to try and replace them with the same, or a similar pair of shoes. Apparently, in one year, a lot has changed in the illustrious world of Men’s shoe fashion. Not that I have ever been very fashionable. Here are my main criteria when shopping for a shoe:
I believe were:
sitting next me.
I overslept this morning, and managed to wake up at 12pm. 12PM is when my all time favorite band, Jimmy Eat World, was to start signing autographs at the record store on campus. Figuring I already missed my opportunity, I just kind of got ready for class, and went about my business. I put my Jimmy CD in my bag, figuring I’m an hour early for class, I’ll walk by the place and see if they’re still there.
Once I got to the Brickhouse, I found a place to park that was only 5 bucks. Knowing full well what parking can cost in New York, I was super happy with how that went. I stood on a line for a while with a lot of people. It’s weird standing in a line of people alone. Not bad, just weird. After what seemed forever, they let us in. I managed to get a spot up by the stage, just a few feet from the ledge. I’m talking close. Super close. Watch out for sweat close. The band that opened was called Ruben’s Accomplice. They were good, but I was just too amped for Jimmy to enjoy it. They played like 7 songs.