Small Worlds, Cross Country Travelers, and Australian Accents

Last year I took a month off and set out on my bike (VTX 1800R) to see the country. The plan was to spend half the day riding and the other half exploring the small towns along the way, hoping to meet a few intersting people in the process. And the very first day, it started happening.

I checked into a downtown hotel in Memphis--the Peabody was full, so I went next door to the Hampton Inn and found a nice room. Then I found my way to the best place in America to eat ribs.

I was sitting at the bar in the Rendevous, throwing back cold Bud Lights and devouring the best ribs I've eaten in my life. Another guy sits next to me and orders the exact same thing. After a few minutes into the ribs, he started.

Him: "Where you from?"

Me: "Pensacola. You?"

Him: "Texas."

Then we talked about ribs and traveling. He worked for Texas Instruments testing a new inventory system and was in Memphis for a few weeks. He managed to make a few trips each year to get away, and this time he lucked out and got Memphis. Then I began to tell him about my plans--Florida to California to Montana and back to Florida with plenty of stops in the process.

"And this is your first day," he asked.

"First day."

"Then let's go drink a few beers," he said with words twisting my arm behind my back.

We paid our tabs and lit out for a night on Beale Street, but as soon as we stepped into the street, we saw the lights of the stadium. The Memphis Tigers were playing at home so we grabbed a seat behind home plate and watched the last few innings. A couple of beers later we were on Beale Street popping in and out of bars, hanging a little longer at the ones where the women were just a little more attractive. But it seemed no matter how many we went into, we couldn't find the perfect fit. I was beginning to get discouraged when we found BB Kings.

Inside a band was jamming, and the upstairs was a little less crowded so we picked up a couple of beers and stood looking down, surveying the crowd below. It had a great mix inside with people from all walks. We saw guys in suits talking to secretary types, Japanese tourists talking with each other, Memphis locals all grouped together, and hairy backed bikers imposing on two young women.

"That doesn't seem right," my friend said.

I looked closer and could see the curl of the thick matted hair covering the guy's shoulders like moss on a rock. And the black Harley tank top he wore did nothing to help control that massive field of black pubes that sprang up way too far north. "It's not right," I agreed.

He looked at me as if suddenly the responsiblitiy of the world was going to be on my shoulders. "It's up to us to save them," he said bravely.

"That's too easy," I said. We were a couple of handsome intelligent types. "Let's add a little challenge to it."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Let's be Australian?" I waited for him to balk at the suggestion.

Some guys don't have the stamina to keep an accent going all night and possibly into the next day.

"Good on ya', mate, " he said. "We'll be a couple blokes from...Brisbane. Rugby mates." His aceent was absolutely flawless.

"Beauty! You're working for T.I., and I'm writing a book about crossing America on a motorcycle."

"They'll love it," he added. And so we began our journey down the stairs and across the floor.

BB Kings has a large area for the band and a nice-sized dance floor in front of the band. The girls were off the the right, sitting at a table with a Wookie perched over them, and a couple of his Wookie buddies nearby. The guy was leaning over the table, bracing himself with his hairy arms.
If you're trying to save a woman, the only way to do it is to be decisive and execute flawlessly. The idea is to seperate the girl quickly from the danger, so in this case, my solution was to go straight up to the table and open the conversation in a non-confrontational way. The guy had not established rights to the girls because he was still standing. If they were interested in him, they would've offered him a seat, or joined his buddies at the next table, so I felt pretty confident I wouldn't be challenged.

"G'day, ladies. This is my favorite song in the world next to Waltzing Matilda, so me mate and me wanted to know if you two wanted to dance?"

The Wookie not only looked like a Wookie, but had there really been Wookies, I'm sure they would've smelled just like this guy. He glared at me, but held his words. But the girls...they were up in an instant, snatching us to the dancefloor by the hand.

As we danced, I could see the guy's buddies giving him a ton of shit--so much so, I could see the big guy getting a little more upset with each song that kept us on the dance floor.

After working up a nice sweat, we fell into the chairs and ordered a few drinks and began with the stories. They were from New York, working their way west to either pick up or drop off a car or something like that. And as we talked, it was clear they were just a couple of really nice girls...girls I'm glad I helped. These guys behind us were not the nice types, and they certainly didn't have the best interest of the girls in mind...But then again, after a few more beers, I might not either. So we talked for a few hours with them asking about Australia, and me and my mate making shit up along the way, trying to recall Ayers Rock, Mad Max, Prisons, and Aboriginals...and of course, the favorite, "I think a dingo ate your baby."

But in the end, we all had a good time. We all drank too much, and we all went our seperate ways. They told me to make sure I get to Santa Fe even if it's out of my way, and I promised I would.

The next morning I checked out of the hotel and caught a cab to the Pyramid for a motorcycle exhibit. By the time I got out it was around 1pm, and my head was still throbbing from the drinks the previous night.

It wasn't until I was halfway through Arkansas and had ingested a dozen Extra Strength Tylenol and 10 gallons of Gatorade that I began to feel 25% human again. And 475 miles after leaving Memphis, I rolled into Oklahoma City. The sun was setting, the wind was calm and I was spent. All I wanted to do was find my hotel in Bricktown, grab a quick shower, and chase down some chow. I didn't want to be Australian, American, Erican, or anything. The only thing I wanted to be was fed.

I was out the door twenty minutes later with no road grime on the face, neck or hands. I was feeling closer to 60% human by then. I had decided on Nona's--a place with a nice rack of lamb--for dinner. I was all set for a cocktails, dinner, wine, and whatever else came. But I was not ready in the least bit for what I saw as I walked out into the summer night air of Oklahoma City.

I looked up and saw the two girls from Memphis walking across the street, headed straight towards me. And suddenly occured to me I had to be Australian. Then as we caught up, they pointed out that I was no longer a stranger to them. And because we had never even talked about OKCity, it was such an odd coincidence that it must be fate. So now it was their duty to rescue me from having to spend my evening alone.

Two women, one Aussie alone in Bricktown. The dinner was served, the wine poured, and dessert was presented.

As I said, some guys don't have the stamina to keep the accent going all night, and possibly into the next morning. But on that calm summer night in Oklahoma City, I wasn't one of those guys.

At least that's the way I remember it.

Beer Samplers, Gay Zombies, and Being Kissed on the Mouth While Everyone Watches

I’m not sure how the whole trip started, but I do remember drinking beer samplers with Dave and Jeremy on Saturday night and the next thing I knew we were in the plane headed for Chattanooga the following morning.

We landed in time for lunch and a beer sampler at the Big River Grille, and like the unpredictability of the previous night’s sampler, we had no idea where the day or night was going to lead, so we just meandered through, keeping our minds open to what’s out there.

When the sampler ended, Jeremy ordered us Long Island Ice Teas. “It’s hot out there,” he said. “We need to rehydrate.” So we downed the Teas effortlessly, all in the name of rehydration.

"Where to now?" I asked the waitress.

"Big Chill," she said. "Get the Sangria."

But first we decided to walk across the bridge spanning the Tennessee River in search of hydration on the other side. It was hot, steamy, and long, but we kept going. Then finally, across the street from the bridge, there the universal Cocktail symbol (neon martini glass.) We stepped in from the heat.

The place was empty except for two guys--one polishing glasses, who looked up long enough to make eye contact with Jeremy and smile in an odd shy kind of way--and another behind the bar who suddenly lost his focus when he saw Dave.

"Well, hi, there, boys. What can I get you?" He looked right at Dave and suggested, "A tall drink of water?"

The tone of his voice and the way he said "boys," made me look around at the restaurant. Instrumental music I couldn't quite identify was playing above, tapas was being prepared, and there were sculptured images of animals on the wall.

I returned to the guy behind the bar just in time to see the glass polisher smile at Jeremy. Jeremy tried to look away, but was a little too late. "Flaming Blue Hawaiian," I said. "With an extra umbrella."

"Silly, I don't know how to make that," he said, putting his hands on his hips. "I've never even heard of it." He laughed towards Dave, as if he was having fun at my expense and trying to get Dave in on the joke.

"I'll take a Red Stripe then," I said.

"The Wizard of Oz," Jeremy said.

Dave and I looked at Jeremy, not quite sure what he was ordering.

"The Wizard of Oz," he repeated. "It's the music from the Wizard or Oz."

And as we listened to it, we realized he was on the money. We placed our order, and by the look on the bartender's face, I got the feeling that we upset him because we didn't order Martinis, or Manhattans, or Cosmos, or whatever hip drink was in fashion that day. Perhaps we should have paid a little more TV-attention to Carry when she ordered drinks with Charlotte, Amanda, and that lawyer-chick with the kid.

I took another look around as the bartender grabbed the beers from the cooler. The shy smiling Glass Polishers; the tapas; the hands on hips with the elbows pointed just a little too far back...being called "Silly."...And then it dawned on us that we were in the middle of a gay bar. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But three guys who are not gay do not belong in a gay bar unless accompanied by at least one woman. Time to go.

"So soon?" the glass polisher asked as we asked for the check. He looked right at Jeremy and said, "But you just got here." I'd heard that tone before when I've left my parents house after spending three days helping them unpack from moving. "Chuck's has karaoke tonight," he called as we passed through the door.

Outside, I glanced back through the window just in time to see the two boys waving. Glass Polisher blew a kiss and pointed at Jeremy as if it were for him. And I, playing along, caught it in the air and planted it on Jeremy's back with the slap of my hand. "So where to?" I asked.

"Big Chill," they both said.

The Big Chill is in downtown Chattanooga and is famous for the slurpee machines behind the counter. We ordered Sangrias made with PGA.

"What the hell is PGA?" I asked.

"Pure grain alchohol," the bartender said.

In the corner, sipping our drinks we sat across the aisle from three older guys also out for a Guys Day Out. But as we exchanged conversation across the aisle, I noticed that they were sitting a little closer together than we were, and I could almost smell the Axe body spray from where I sat.

"You guys need to check out Chucks," one said. "Tonight's karaoke."

"Sure," I said. "We'll see you there." And to me, that sounded like fun until we went back to the room and Googled "Chucks" "Chattanooga."

I've got nothing against going to alternative bars, but again, it's best to have a female present--not because I fear for my life, or I'd care if anyone saw me there, but because I guess I think I'm so damn handsome that I'm not sure if I could handle all the advances, and the female would run interference for me. Or perhaps it's just the opposite...what if even the balding, overweight 70 year old doesn't buy me a drink? Where does that leave me? Imagine what that would do to my self esteem.

After dinner, we ended back at Big River for drinks where we ran into a newlywed couple who was just married that day, so I opend up a tab and bought them a round drinks. Everyone was having a great time. Drinks were flowing and everybody was getting loose...even the newlyweds.
She said they were on their wedding night, and they couldn't be happier. "Really. We couldn't be happier....Really....couldn't be hap-pee-yer." She drank the shot I bought them. "Really....Happy."

Then she looked at me quickly while her husband was looking away, and something didn't seem right. The husband turned just in time to hear her whisper, "So you wanna come back to our room and party?"

I declined, but wished them well, and bought them another round of drinks.

I joined Dave and Jeremy, drinking with new friends and truly enjoying the whole new-city-with-great-friends experience. Everyone was getting along, telling funny stories, laughing at all the right parts. Dave was sitting close to the gorgeous blonde, looking like he had found a new dive buddy. The whole world seemed at peace...until...

...until the older guys from The Big Chill arrived. And just behind them was the glass polisher and the bartender from the Tapas place. It seemed they had all met at Chuck's, and had come looking for us when we didn't show up for karaoke. The bartender started in, "We've been looking everywhere for you boys." They all gathered around, seriously putting a damper on the Mojo Dave had working.

The bartender held up his hand, "Cosmo, please."

"Manhattan," Glass Polisher added.

"Fuzzy navel," Older Guy Number 1 ordered.

With his hands on his hips and elbows pointed back, he sauntered closer to Dave. His tone was different...not so welcoming. "Who this?" he said, nodding toward Dave's blonde. And just as Dave was about to respond, the fresh drinks arrived.

"Cocktails!" Glass Polisher cried. He took his from the waitresses tray and clinked Jeremy's beer. "To new friends."

I picked up on the fact that Jeremy was becoming agitated--not just because some guy clinked his glass, but because Dave was seriously interested in the blonde, and if these guys hung around much longer, she might get the wrong impression, and thereby blow his opportunity. But they began to slowly move closer and closer, closing in on us like three well-dressed zombies.

They were all around us, and I could see the horror on the blonde's face. The whole night she spent talking with Dave, and by the conversation I heard, she really liked him and was truly interested in him. But now all her hopes were being dashed because she was beginning to think he had other interests. She was growing more distant with each inch of progress the gay zombies made.

Usually, I'm full of ideas, but this time there was nothing I could think of to help my buddy Dave and save us from the boys. They were moving closer and closer, and we were as far against the table as we could get without climbing on top of it. The poor blonde, feeling misled and unappreciated was now looking at the Bartender, Glass Polisher and Older Guy Number 1 moving into territory she thought was hers.

Then, like a miracle my newlywed couple burst through the line of zombies, grabbed my hand and blurted out, "We're going. If you change your mind we're in room 612." She didn't even try to be discrete about the key, she just put it on the table, then leaned over and planted an open-mouth kiss on me while everyone watched.

It was a while before she came up for air, and when she did, it took a few moments for me to collect myself. But when I did, I saw the blonde scoot her chair closer to Dave's just as the boys were walking away. But when I looked for Jeremy, he was nowhere to be found. My buddy Jeremy was missing. And you know what else, friends and neighbors...so was that key.

At least that's the way I remember it.