The trip? It was fun. More fun than I planned on having, but it was nice to mix up business with some fun. Life is too fuckin' short to be serious all the time. Paul was cool enough and offered to let me stay with him and his kids for a couple days in New Braunfels which I’m glad I did. That alone saved me a few hundred bucks in hotels. I finally got to meet Samuel and Cora and they are two funny kids. Typical kids. Samuel was home sick from school the whole week I guess, so he got to watch me sleep and listen to me fart and snore. That kid is a riot! Total trouble maker and shit talker if I've ever met one. There is no question that he is the offspring of Paul. Apple and tree, LMAO! Cora is the cutest little girl with an attention span of mine while having to suffer through another bullshit speech by Cooncracker or any other one of those douchebag democrat puppets that are always polluting the airwaves with their lies. She seemed like she was always on the move looking for the next fun to start. Cora was really polite and cute as a button; nothing but smiles and childhood innocence. You're a lucky man Paul. Your kids were hilarious. I didn't get to say goodbye to them like I wanted (gag-gifts, candy, jokes, etc.) but I'm sure I'll get to see them again, and you're probably glad they didn't have any more sugar for a while too. Good times man! Thanks Paul again for the room and board. You saved me some badly needed money right now. You almost laughed me right into a DWI, but think of all the money I saved by getting pulled over by the right Sheriff and avoiding that bank-draining offense. Seriously though, you saved me some cash that's not so readily available right now. I'll be able to hook you up for that better the next time I see you brother. Or when I have a steady job; whichever comes first.
Friday night Paul and I met up with kerrcarto and his buddy Robert in Boerne for some grubbin’ and some drinkin’. Kerrcarto already posted about the ass douche and his dumbass girlfriend we met when we were having dinner. After we ate, we went to some bar with some really shitty music, shot some pool and got shitfaced. Since I told Paul I would be the designated driver, I maintained an even buzz without crossing the line into wasted land. Alternating a few waters into the mix helped, but staying away from the liquor was the most effective. I started getting to the point where I just wanted to get completely smashed, so I went outside for a few smokes and some fresh air and away from the shots going down all around us. That was probably the smartest move I made that night. The dumbest came later on the ride home when me and Paul were talkin’ about his newly purchased used car and I made some comment like, “yeah, too bad this fucking this is governed” or something like that. Paul fired back some defensive drunken babble like I was talking shit about his car when I really wasn’t; I was just stating what I was sure to be true from my experience driving family sedans. So as his drunk ass was calling me a pussy and telling me to “floor it” to prove to him it was governed, I was noticing that there were absolutely no cars on the road in front of us or behind us. Perfect! I think we were on Hwy. 46, some dark and sometimes curvey two-lane road with hardly any street lights or homes or much of anything that I can remember so it was a perfect road to prove that I was right.
So I floored it. 75, 80, 85, 90…..95 and still climbing. Most cars from the 2000’s that I have driven have all been governed at 95 mph at the highest. Believe me, I like to take every car I drive to its max speed at least once just to see what it has. Once that needle hits 95 mph (85 mph in most cases) the power kicks off and the car starts to decrease speed even with the pedal to the floor. Once about 5 mph or so under the governed speed the power kicks back in but only until the needle crosses the governed speed limit again. This fucker kept climbing; 100, 105….
We’re crankin’ Alice in Chains on the stereo and Paul is laughing like a fucking drunken hyena or something as we’re rounding the corners with nothing but open road. Just as I think I should probably slow it down since I was already proven to be wrong regarding the governor, I looked in the rear view mirror and that empty sunken feeling in my stomach was the next thing I felt as I saw the blue flashing lights of a squad car coming up fast behind me. I know those lights too well, so I was sure my entire trip was fucked, I was going to jail, my plans to move to Texas would also be fucked because I was gonna soon be a broke motherfucker and on top of all that, I was going to have to listen to Paul laughing the entire time I was
failing doing the field sobriety test, getting the shit beat out of me answering the officer’s questions, and getting the shit kicked out of me again booked into jail.
Officer: Good evening. You have any idea how fast you were going back there?
Me: Not completely sure sir, but I think it was somewhere around 80-85 mph.
Officer: Yeah, uh try 105 mph. (Paul laughing his ass off in the background) You had anything to drink tonight?
Me: Yes sir, I had about four beers.
Officer: License and proof of insurance please. (Paul coughing because he’s still laughing his ass off)
Me: Yes sir.
Paul: Here’s my license too dude. I just bought this car but I don’t have the title yet. Or the registration.
So the Officer is standing there with two drunks, one of them laughing like he’s having a great time, a car with no registration or title to show for, a half-drunk with a California license who thinks he’s Mario fucking Andretti in a family sedan, and a wasteoid with a Washington license sitting shotgun who claims he just bought the car but doesn’t have title or registration to prove it.
So the officer went back to his car for a while and let me stew in my grief, frustration, and yes……..Paul laughing about it. This whole time my life is flashing in front of my eyes. What the fuck am I going to do? What the fuck was I thinking? Why is Paul still fucking laughing?
A few minutes later the officer came back, threw our licenses and paperwork at me and said something like, “Looks like tonight is your lucky night. I just got another call that I need to get to. YOU need to SLOW DOWN buddy!” I said, “Yes sir!” and with that he was peeling out of the parking lot heading the direction we were just coming from.
I drove straight back to New Braunfels going the speed limit, we stopped at Denny’s for some midnight breakfast and went over exactly what had just gone down. As you may have guessed, Paul was laughing even harder now, and I may have let out a little chuckle as we determined that the officer most likely let us go because he was looking at a fucking mound of paperwork for the rest of his shift. DWI, speeding in excess of 50 mph over the posted limit, California drunk driving the unregistered vehicle, Washington drunk supposedly the owner, no title, no registration and whatever else he could rack up on
us me. I guarantee I didn’t really laugh or find the humor of it all until Saturday afternoon at some point. Even now, I’m kicking myself in the nuts for trying to pull off some rookie drunkard bullshit like that. Fuck!
Sunday I headed off toward Corpus Christie, made it about half way down there and said fuck it. Turned around and headed back up Hwy. 35 towards New Braunfels (where I felt safe) check into some hotel right next to Chilis, took a shower, got fucked up at the bar at Chilis went back to my room and passed out. I woke up the next
morning afternoon and went back to the scene of the crime and took the 46 west from New Braunfels to I-10 and then continued westbound towards Kerrville. I wanted to ambush kerrcarto but I was short on time since Paul had already got us tickets to some rodeo back in San Antonio that night, or at least that was the information I was given. I got as far as the Kerrville exit and basically just turned around and headed back east so I would have plenty of time to check into a hotel so I wasn’t holding Paul and the kids at all for the rodeo. I never heard shit from Paul and it was close to 6 p.m. well after he was out of work so I called him to find out WTF. He told me the rodeo wasn’t until the following Monday. Had I known that, I could’ve and would’ve spent some time cruising around Kerrville just to check it out. Nigger me this Batman! Oh well, that’s just how it goes I guess.
Tuesday I took a cab from my hotel down to the Riverwalk area since I had never seen it before and I planted my as at the bar of the Hard Rock Café and got fucked up for Valentine’s Day. The cabbie that took me back to my hotel was some dude from Turkey that said he had been here for 25 years. Of course I brought up politics with the guy and he had me rolling in the back seat laughing the whole ride back. With his accent it was a little hard to make out everything he was saying, but “Obama asshole” was clear as a bell and the guy used it a lot. He didn’t have one good thing to say about Cooncracker, so him and I got along just fine. I got back to my hotel, pounded a few beers at the Applebee’s bar next door, spilled my drink all over some dude’s meal and the bartender’s purse, almost got in a fight with some guy that only heard about my spillage but it somehow ruined his night, went back to my room, passed the fuck out, took the shuttle to the airport in the morning and said, “until next time Texas.” The highlight of the flight home was two hot little early-20’s chicks that sat next to me from Houston to San Diego. They were both 22 years old and heading down to Pacific Beach to party with some friends for the weekend. I got the blonde’s phone number when she sent me this picture she took, but probably won’t even call her. I might have had a chance, if I wasn’t so hammered on the flight that I told them my real age instead of the usual, “I’m 26 but feel like I’m 18” bullshit line. Well, maybe I’ll text her Saturday and see what’s up, but I doubt they’re gonna wanna hang out with borning ‘old dude’ who just wants a piece of ass anyways.
The trip wasn't as successful as I had originally hoped, but it was far from a failure considering how little I really prepared for it. I am a little bummed that I didn't get to make it up to Dallas for a drink or two with Harper or TWS. That would've been cool. At the very least, flying out for a week helped me determine the general area I would like to move to without question or doubt. Obviously, whatever work I find will narrow that part down even more, but for the most part I like the New Braunfels area as well as Kerr County and Boerne and everything in between. The busy part of New Braunfels made me feel right at home. No matter what, I will definitely experience some culture shock when I move, but it won't be so drastic of a shock if some of the things that annoy me are there; like Mexicans, crowds and traffic. I don't think I'd be able to pull off the change of environment if none of those things were there to keep me alert and watching my back. City boy? You bet your ass I am.