mr. vanbuilderass

I dialed her number six or seven times before I finally pressed send on my crappy flip cell phone. As it dialed the nerves picked up even more. I’d talked to this lady many times via the internet, but tonight I’d be talking on the phone. Too many times over the years I’d gotten numbers and never had the guts to call. So wimpy, yet so true to my story.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end finally said.

“Hey, is this Kendra?” I said meekly.

“Of course, you called my phone!” she said laughing.

“This is Randy.”

“Hey there. Whatcha doing?”

“Well, thought I’d give ya a jingle before coming up to the city to see you this weekend.”

I wanted to hit my forehead with my palm. I fucking said jingle. Who the hell says jingle. Well, maybe Santa Claus or Arnold.

“Jingle? What are you 75?”

“Yeah, I’m like George Burns in ‘Oh, God!’”

Silence.

“Guess you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“You got it.”

“Well, onwards… I’ll be in town sometime around 2 in the afternoon. Taking the train from D.C.”

“Ok. I’ll be working then, so you’ll have to find something to occupy yourself for a few hours before we meet up.”

“Not a problem. There’s a bar I want to find, it’s got Joe Strummer on it. A mural painted after he died.”

“That’s cool. I mean, it shouldn’t be a problem finding a random bar in New York.”

She laughed at her own comment. I was feeling a bit at ease.

“See you in a couple days then.”

“You betcha. See you soon, sweetie.”

And she hung up.

“Well, the ending was promising at least,” my jumbled mind thought.


I dialed her number. We’d been out a few times. The first time was a disaster.

For me.

She ended up meeting the band we both loved so much. And got to swappin’ spit with one of them.

I, meanwhile, was so jealous I just did shots of whiskey. With my heroes. But was too dumbstruck by a girl doing that on a first, what I thought was a date, and being surrounded by these guys to say much.

I remember listening to some stories.

I remember one of the guys asking “Are you OK?”

I don’t remember answering.

Eventually, I forced a cab ride home from her. I had to be on the road at 8 a.m. It was 4 a.m. and I was shit-hammered.

Four hours later, I was running towards a train in Penn Station. It was like a movie. Except I was really chasing a fucking train that was moving. Trying not to miss it because then I’d never get back to D.C. with time enough to get back to Greenville, North Carolina in time for work that day.

Did I mention I was still drunk. Very drunk.

I leapt for the handle of the train. Grabbing it with both hands. Lucky for me, all I had for luggage was a Rose Bowl 1997 book bag that I got during college. One of the greatest games I ever covered in my career as a journalist. Thought it would be one of many great “events” that I would get to cover. In reality, it never got topped.

Now, she answered the phone.

“Hiya, Randy!”

“Hey, there Kendra. We on for New Orleans?”

“I can’t do it. I’m too broke.”

“So am I.”

“But you’re more dedicated than me.”

I could only think, “Yes, that is true. In many, many ways.” Lucero’s “Heart So True” started to echo in my mind. Or is that song called “Poor Heartache”? It’s an internal debate that shouldn’t happen, but does.

“You know, come out drinking with me. I know the last time we drank, I was a little less than behaved …”

“Stop it, dork.”

“Huh?”

“Lucero lyric pickup lines don’t work on me. … Well, not when you use them.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t know…”

I could feel me blushing. I was hoping she was too.

“Well, I just can’t make the show. I want too soooooooo badly, but you know how it goes. The bank account says no while my heart says yes.”

“You should always follow your heart, not your bank account, baby.”

“Did you just call me baby?”

“No idea. But, seriously, do what you think you should.”

“That’s not what my heart always wants.”

“Well, that’s the rub, ain’t it?”

“Certainly is, sir. Are you still going?”

“Yep. $66 bucks in my checking account, and my car is packed and ready for 30 hours of driving, three hours of concert going, and maybe 6 hours of sleeping!”

“You are to be envied, sir.”

“By who?”

“More people than you think.”

I felt like Mr. Vanbuilderass for just one second. Looking into the distance while others talked about me. It felt good.

“Talk to ya later, chica.”

“You too sir. Be safe.”

Click.

Sanity is, most certainly, overrated.

“It looks like it’s not going to be that bad.”

The opening to an awful disaster movie? Or my life. In the next few days, we’ll find out.

Went today to get a “hurricane pass”, or what you have to have to get back on the island after an evacuation has been called, but they haven’t declared it 100 percent safe yet. All the folks I asked said all I would have to do is show my lease and get it.

I did and didn’t.

It seems the town here has changed its policy of giving out passes every year to folk. Instead, they issue permanent ones to the residence itself, not to who actually is living there. Which means renters are screwed if their property management company doesn’t care or the owner of the property just wants to keep it for themselves.

Well, fine. I was probably going to ride the fucker out anyway, and now I guess my ass is going to.

Of course, I’ll leave for work on Thursday and they’ll close the bridges while I’m there. Keeping me from my own home. Yeah, safety and all that. I understand. But I’d like to be able to come back once the freaking storm is gone. I’m smart enough to not mess with downed power lines and such.

Of course, they may close the bridge Thursday night after I get home from work. Then, I’ll get to see a hurricane up close.

Unless it just skirts on by like the weather forecasters say it’s going to.

Ahhh, the ol’ cliffhanger again. Will it actually hit, or will it not. Will our hero go to sleep with lots of wind and rain, only to wake up floating in his own house? Stay tuned after these messages.

***

The last time I was around a hurricane here in NC, was Ophelia. I ended up leaving my apartment when the water started lapping at the doorway. It was interesting watching the waves in the river reach 7-8 feet tall.

That one missed us, and ended up doing more damage in Hopewell and Richmond than it did here. Flooded all of downtown Richmond pretty badly.

I saw Rita in Florida while with Emily. It was a category 1 at the time. We went and saw “The March of the Penguins” while it was blowing around. Ended up driving the Red Shark in it. Kind of cool. Kind of weird to sit here and be reminded of it. We had discussions about our future while I was there. Should have seen it coming I guess. I always said “Love will be enough” and she said “No, it won’t be.” That was the ultimate sign, really. Wasn’t too much longer before she dumped my ass.

***

Otherwise, I’ve pretty much dodged hurricanes. Well, they’ve dodged me. They seem to go where I have people I love, however. I think Florida had five or six that year.

***

Oh yeah, did see a tropical depression in Key West when Josh and I were there. We were supposed to go fishing in a skiff, but the guy canceled on us due to Erika (I think, but am not really sure).

That was a bummer of a trip. It was also Em and I’s 3rd anniversary. Something she really looked at as a huge landmark in our relationship at the time. Why? Because.

***

Not having the weather channel kind of makes this more exciting. Well, not having any television. If I didn’t work for a newspaper, I’d probably not even know about it. That, of course, makes me seek it out on the intrawebs, but I don’t think I’d really care otherwise.

The tropical updates don’t have the same impact on a computer screen. Especially after watching the same lame-ass William Shatner Priceline commercial every, single, fucking time. They seriously can’t put a different add on there. No wonder no one wants to watch sponsored videos on line.

I’ve got canned foods up the ass, along with a gaggle of water and lots of charcoal. Of course, I have nothing to really cook with the charcoal, and if I did have a freezer full of meats and fish and such, it would all go bad anyway if the thing hits and there is no power for a good while.

Candles, check. Flash light. Check. Batteries, check. Gas in car, no, but I’ll fill ‘er up tomorrow on the way to work. Hopefully, I have enough money to do that. I paid rent today and I’m a bit worried about my cash flows. It truly sucks being so stupid as a youngster, and never being paid enough to make a dent in it.

But, fuck the whining. I did it. And seriously, many things I did with that credit and such are my best memories and the ones that inspire me to sit here and type. Sit here and type. Sit here and type.

Sanity is, most certainly, overrated.