Monday, June 30, 2014
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
I'm in New Orleans. Due to the delays in fort worth what should have been an 11 hour trip took 21 hours. I was supposed come in through Houston. Instead, I had the longer want around... through Shreveport. No stories match kneecap tho...
I arrived at my arranged accommodations, Saint Vincent's Guest House.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Well folks... I'm off to New Orleans.
I was sitting in a greyhound station and the storm had made the bus late... and now I'm going to reveal one of my deepest, darkest, secrets...
I'm a hopeless eavesdropping. Not on anyone I know... I don't wanna take the chance of hearing anything about me, but strangers who are talking in public are fair game.
Turns out the three gentlemen I'm waiting with are all from the halfway house.
I had suspected as much already.
One had a backpack which had busted its zipper an was tied together with a belt. The second had all his possessions in a box that had origionally contained a television. The third had tripple bagged everything in garbage bags.
They were all scrubbed clean... which gave the halfway house away. The. "transitional facilities" do keep their guys clean.
Their tatoos were interesting.
One of them, the cardboard box guy, has an elaborate skull on one kneecap that seems to open and close it's mouth whenever he bends his leg. For some reason I found this fascinating.
There were no teardrop tats under their eyes, so if they'd ever killed anyone, they weren't advertising it. That's a blessing. I''ve never understood the urge to advertise one's sins, but to each his own.
As it became obvious that we were going to be more and more behind schedule, they began chatting. I can't go into the conversation here, my ability to type is seriously impeeded on an android, but as they began digging into possessions and trading jeans, shoes and such it became evident that there's each been given a voucher for goodwill and having been unable to find something that would actually fit them, they all just grabbed the best stuff they could acquire, in hopes of trading it off for something useful later.
One of them even offered to trade his reeboks to me... but they were too small.
But I'm happy to report that cardboard box with kneecap tat was able to score a really great t-shirt bearing the legend, "WORK YOUR BASS OFF" And also sporting a wonderfully rendered image of the fish in question.
He was very proud of it.
It would appear that he's been waiting for a very long time to go fishing with his dad.
I hope he catches a whopper.
Now I'm in Dallas, waiting for my next connecting bus to Shreveport, and the Dallas terminal isn't half as interesting. Actually, the Dallas terminal is a little bit seedy.
Ex cons would be a relief.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Saturday, June 07, 2014
Sunday, June 01, 2014
Who would think that a bunch of people having what is essentially a glorified yard sale would have this much fuss?
Ms. M, the concession lady it's no longer at the flea. They tried to evict her and her boyfriend, who is a separate dealer over something that happened well over six months ago. Actually, happened with her boyfriend not her... managers were caught bending the truth, boyfriend is still there, they asked Ms M to return and she told them 'most certainly not' but not that politely... (if there's anyone who can out cuss a Tezan it's a Louisiana Cajun, just saying) They offered me the concession stand... I said hell no.
1) I know for a fact that it has never turned a profit.
2) I refuse to take over a kitchen until it's been scrubbed and sanitized, which is going to take a week
3) I don't have a health permit anymore
4) there's no running water in there and I'm not up to hulking in twenty to forty gallons every day
5) I'm also not dragging pots,pans,etc home every night to clean them...
Well I could go on.
Just rest assured, its not gonna happen.
Needless to say with this cloud of angst looming overhead, business has been challenging. I am a firm believer that anyone in sales should leave their crap at home. Honestly, a foul mood can reverberate across the parking lot and repel customers.
So, I do my best ignore it, But other dealers keep camping by my booth to discuss events.