take it personal, you think Jimmy Ray and I are going to win some
preacher's prize and leave you out? Don't get your panties in a bunch;
you're predictable in your unpredictability."
Jimmy came to my defense, "Wade, your mouth is going to get you killed
one day and with that face of yours ain't none of us going to get laid
this weekend. You start running that trap of yours and the women all run
for the hills."
Wade mumbled, "We'll see about that baby, and beside there ain't no hills, so we'll see."
No one could answer back on Jimmy, what could you say? Well, sometimes
you're too good a friend, you know? It really sucks the way you're
always so nice!"
We smoked another joint and went to eat at an all you can eat taco bar
at the Holiday inn at the far end of the strip. It was the end of the
strip where the fat middle class families gather with their fat children
to lounge in the sun getting blistered red while blowing up inflatable
air mattresses that only lasted for one use.
We fit in so well here!! I mean, we really fit in so well with this
crowd, me in ripped and faded blue jeans with a yellow Zig Zag shirt,
Jimmy in a white Tee shirt, jeans and those damn boots and Wade with his
ever present Camel cigarette and his smart ass attitude. In the lobby
of the hotel was an over sized sign, "ALL YOU CAN EAT TACO BAR" 2 drink
minimum. Unscathed by this visual attack we proceed towards the
"Lounge/Restaurant"
We were met at the door by and attractive older youngish women holding
menus. I asked myself now why, if you are offering us an all you can eat
Taco bar are you holding those menus? She smiled and asked, "Do you
want the taco bar?" as Wade answered, "no were just here for the floor
show" and he never slowed down. We were all in a zoned out following
sort of mode so we just smiled at the women as we glided past her
and looked for a seat in the lounge. The waitress was dressed in one of
those insulting little short frilly skirt bar maid outfits that are
designed to show off her legs for the drunks. So approached our table
and asked, "What will you guys have?"
Pointing at each of us in order Wade says, "Two beers, two beers, two beers!"
"Fellas" she added by way of explanation. "It's a two drink minimum, but you don't have to order them all at once."
She was just trying to be helpful, but to Wade that was only a sign of
weakness. "You don't know these guys the way I do ma'am. I'm doing you a
favor by not ordering them three beers each. These are couple of dumb
ass country boys; they don't come to town much. Three beers and they
start misbehaving, starting fights and pissing in the planter in the
corner. Two beers and the check ma'am and I'll get em out here before
they can start any trouble.
The waitress smiled a nervous smile, halfway believing and halfway going
along with the joke. Wade's mussed and tossed hair hanging over his
glasses with his ever-present cigarette and dead pan delivery gave him
an air of frightening sincerity. She returned with the beers and the
plates as Wade added, "Thank you, ma'am. You boys go out back and wash
your hands in that swimming pool while I go knock the sh*t out that taco
bar."
Maybe she was busy, but she never returned and we left the money on the
table. Fueled and fired with tacos and more beer we headed back to the
room for desert, more beer another joint and shroom juice. We hadn't
tested the potency of the juice since we spilt it into two gallons so we
weren't expecting much, but we were wrong.
Good shroom juice on top of a weed and alcohol buzz had a mellowing
effect. It takes the roller coaster effect out of it. It numbs your
stomach, so that no matter how much you drink your stomach never sours
and even if you get sick it only lasts for a minute or two. I have on
occasion said, "Excuse me," stepped behind a car and heaved and then
stepped back adding, "You were saying?" Then if you smoke a joint it
really kicks it in high gear and turbo charges everything.So we broke
out the shroom juice from the back of the car and went to the room. We
first smoked a doob on the balcony as we passed the jug around. First
swig, no fractals, second swig, I noticed how quickly the sun was going
down, third swig a purple aura on the horizon, fourth swig, fractals!
Panama City has always been called the redneck Riviera for as long as I
can remember. It's really not fair to judge a town by its location or by
the
clientele that it draws. There are no castles or royalty like, say,
Monaco, but does Monaco have a Snakatorium or alligators? Or a Go Cart
Track or Putt Putt Golf? Panama City doesn't even have a decent sunset;
the beaches face south so when the sun sets it's over your shoulder. You
sit and wait for something wonderful to happen and it just gets dark.
It is illegal to drink alcohol on Panama City beaches. It is also illegal to drink shroom juice or to smoke pot on Panama City beaches. Not that that
was any of my concern or any sort of impediment to us but I just
thought that I would mention it before someone else brought it up. We
grabbed a cold six pack and the shroom juice and wrapped it in a rather
disturbing looking Batman beach towel. I rolled five joints and left the
bag in the room as we headed for the beach.
The dark was comforting; the breeze was wet and warm as we opened more
beers. In between swigs of beer we were taking swigs of the juice which
brought about the inevitable firing up of yet another joint. We were
flying, not frying but flying. We were balloons blowing free in the gulf
breeze as an absurd thought entered my head that this must be what it
felt like to be Judy Garland in Oz.
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