Perspective is a wonderful thing. I wish more people had it

 

Yes, I know that statement doesn’t make any sense, but only if you look at it from one side.

 

Earlier this week I rolled out of Slab City for the final time, heading for parts beyond.  When I reached the limits of this makeshift community there was a hitchhiker. Well, not really a hitchHIKER, exactly since he was determinedly stationary while waiting for a free ride, but you get the idea.

 

Since, even in my 50s, I can’t resist the thrill of defying the basic cautions doled out by After School Specials of the 1970s, I pulled over to allow the fellow to climb in for the 4 mile drive into town.

 

His name was Burt. He was in his early 60s, neatly dressed for an inhabitant of a town of misfits, dropouts, and ne’er-do-wells.  He explained that he wanted to go to the diner in Niland for some biscuits and gravy.

Niland is a town of about 1,400. There is a mini grocer, a gas station, an out of business laundromat that is “for lease” and…The Buckshot Diner.

 

I have never been able to bring myself to eat at the Buckshot. Not because is looks seedy (it does) but, because I imagine many of the Slabbers seek temporary escape from their permanent escape and it is they who keep the eatery solvent.

And, since most of them go entire seasons without a good scrubbing, they have a pungent aura that, in my opinion,  does not mix well with the aroma/taste of hot meals.  But, to each his own.

The road to town is a series of potholes occasionally interspersed with solid ground, so the going is slow.  To pass the time Burt cussed President Obama with no prodding whatsoever from me.

 

“I had to go into town just last week cuzza ol’ Bob Ama. Cost me $25!”

I had actually heard this nickname for our current Commander-in-Chief and knew that it was based on his official email addy – bobama@whatever.gov, and I think Burt was disappointed that I didn’t ask him to explain it. But, I did ask him how ol’ Bob cost him $25.

 

“That damn medicaid phone – ran out of minutes the first day! Had to go buy one of my own!” He said.

 

I explained I thought those were meant for emergencies and the like, not everyday use, and therefore, seemed like a pretty nice perk.

Burt dismissed my twist on it and asked what’s the sense of giving someone a phone if you can’t use it.

Yeah. Maybe. I guess.

I said, “Burt, I apologize for being abrupt but, we are travelling a short distance.  I gave you this ride in the hopes of getting something out of it. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

 

He seemed eager for a chance to tell his side of anything and motioned for me to proceed.

 

“Chances are I will never see you again and won’t know who you are – just a face in the crowd – so if it gets too personal, tough shit. Just don’t answer.  But, what would you say is your biggest regret?”

“Oh hell, I don’t even have to think about that. If I could go back and not do something I did it would be that time I took LSD in jail.”

I studied Burt. Here is a fellow who didn’t have a whole lot going for him, least of all, ambition. It seemed to me that many of us harbor regrets about the road not taken, or the one choice that changed the path of our lives. So, his answer seemed odd to me.

“Really?” I asked.  “That is it?”

Burt explained that there are some experiences you do not want to enhance by giving them a surplus of reality. “That shit stays with you.” He said.

We were on approach to the town so I pulled out all the stops and asked the question that was burning.

 

“Burt, in many ways you really seem to have your shit together.  You have relatively good hygiene,  you are articulate, your mind seems sharp…I am not passing judgement on you, though it will sound like it, but, where did it all go wrong for you?”

 

I had braced myself for a tale of tragedies, trials, and tribulations that would rival Job. I expected a cautionary tale of addiction and the spiraling loss of control, rock bottom and so on.

 

“Clams.  Clams did me in.” Burt said.

 

My mind raced through all the possible contexts and definitions of the word. I was left adrift.

 

“The bivalve or the slang for either female genital or money?”

He raised an eyebrow and gave me a look of surprise.  “The bivalve.”

 

We had arrived at The Buckshot. I placed the EM-50 Phantom Rambler in park and gestured for him to continue.

 

He went on.  “When I was a young fella, I was full of piss and vinegar. Do whatever it took to get ahead in this dog-eat-dog world.  Anyway,  fast forward.  I was an up and coming rep for my firm and was about to land a huge contract.  The client flew me and the other two finalists down to the islands on a private jet for our presentations. ”

 

“Wow. ” I interupted.

 

“Yeah, yeah. ..it was nice. Small, but really swanky, the jet I mean.  Anyway,  it went really well, I think.  It was high-living down there.  The food and accommodations were 5 star.  But,  I am from the Midwest.  Never was big on seafood.   I may have gone a little overboard on the stuff.”

 

“The clams?” I asked.

 

“Yeah…” He said with a look of pain and regret. “You ever eat clams?”

“Once”, I replied.  “In Boston.  I had the chowder. I’m not big on seafood either.  It didn’t sit well with me.”

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that was a thing.  It was my first time.” He said.

 

“What happened?” I asked.

 

“Nothing…at first.  We got back on the plane and,  I don’t know if it was the change in altitude, or pressure,  or just the process of digestion or what but,  it hit me. Hard, like.” He explained.

 

“Oh…OOH”, I said.

 

“Well, it became clear that I wasn’t going to make back to the mainland for a bathroom.  And,  even though I would rather not excuse myself from the tiny cabin to so obviously use the restroom,  it soon became clear that I would have to.  So,  I looked around for the head.  No signs.  Finally,  I asked Barbara, she was the client’s rep that was leading us around,  where the bathroom was.  She told me that this was such a short flight that the plane didn’t really have a bathroom exactly.   But,  my stomach was churning like one of those front-loading washing machines and I said I really needed one.   Again she tried to encourage me to wait.  We would land in 20 minutes.  I had my legs crossed as hard as I could, I grabbed her wrist and said this was a serious emergency and that I needed a bathroom right goddamn NOW.”

“I think she finally got it and took me to the back row, but there were only about 5 rows, center seat. The cushion flipped up and there was this emergency potty type thing.  There was this curtain that pulled out of the wall for privacy but it was only at about chest height.” He said.

 

It began to dawn on me what was happening and I exclaimed,  “Oh my fucking God!”

“Exactly.” Burt said.  ” But,  at that point,  I didn’t care.  I was just glad I had held it in long enough to get situated. And,  just in time, too. Because I exploded.”

 

Wanting to add to the conversation,  and show that I was paying attention, I remarked, “Oh my fucking God!”

“Oh. You have no idea.  It’s not just that it was loud,  but the acoustics weren’t helping any either.  Everyone tried to pretend I want there,  but that lasted for about 5 seconds.  There was nowhere to go or even look, for that matter.  Plus, this time was supposed to be used for our final pitch to Barbara,  so my competitors did that.  But,  as the next wave would hit me and it would get loud again they would all stop talking and wait for it to pass. I have never been so helpless in my whole life.  It wouldn’t stop. And, then,  the smell kicked in. It was bad. I know it was bad. Hell, it was gagging me. Goddamn clams.  Soon everyone had a towel over their mouth and nose and I’m just apologizing over and over.”

 

I felt I should say something so I went with, “Oh my fucking God!”

“Well, it wasn’t over.  The plane landed, but I wasn’t done. I couldn’t stand yet. My competitors smirked at me before exiting.  Barbara turned as if deciding how exactly to say goodbye and inform me I didn’t get the contract.  As she paused to find the words,  she made eye contact and I was hit with another explosive wave. It is a humbling experience to lock eyes with a woman as you void your bowels.”

“And, the plane had a schedule to keep.  A cleaning lady came on, gave me some humiliating looks, went about her business then asked me how long I would be. I said just another minute. Then she left.  I was alone. It is then I discovered no paper or means to clean up.  I had an overnight bag that was out of reach.  I had no choice. I was a mess, but, I stood, pulled up my pants and got out of there.”

 

It was my turn to talk. ” Burt…that is the worst thing I have ever heard in my life.  What happened next?”

 

“I don’t know. ” He said. I never had the nerve to even go back into work.  I just walked away.  I tried to start over but… Nothing had ever been the same since.”

 

And, I’d you had it all to do over again, you would skip the LSD and not the clams?” I asked.

 

“Not even close.” Burt said.

 

He got out of the van while I sat there thinking about what he had just told me.

As he began to close the door I said,

“Hey Burt…is that story true?”

 

He smiled and said,  “I wouldn’t shit you.  I’ve learned my lesson.” And he slammed the door.

 

I don’t know why,  but in that moment I had never missed Trixie more. I backed out of the lot and set a course for home.