Classical Gas, Embryonic Journey, Anji

I Grew Up On Hoppy, Gene And Roy And It Seemed To Me The Best A Man Can Do  Is Be  A Rooten-Tooten, Straight Shooten, Cowboy Buckaroo


Coffee House Delights

I really enjoyed working at the coffee house, but the
incidental monies that I was spending were beginning to add up,
money that would have been better spent if I were traveling down the
highway. David never mentioned paying me; I guess he thought a place
to stay was payment enough. Each night I worked from 5 p.m. till 2
a.m. or 3 a.m. and eating in restaurants and sleeping into the
afternoon was becoming a drag. I decided, when I went back to work,
I would tell David I was heading out in the morning. I had some time
to kill before work, so I walked downtown to soak up some El Paso
culture.

At work that evening, I told David I was leaving. He
said, “If you stay for the week-end I’ll give you some money.” I
decided to help him even though I was tired and it looked like it
was going to be a busy weekend. The place was already filling up.
When I went back into the kitchen, Sheila, one of the chicks I
worked with, asked me if I needed a “pick me up.” Sheila, Trisha,
and John, all workers, had dropped mescaline and they had one hit
left. With a great big smile on my face, I took a drink of water,
swallowed the pill, and then took two hot chocolates out to some
waiting customers. If making money was all there was to work then
doing mescaline on the job wasn’t a good idea, but if you wanted to
have fun too, well that was a whole different trip.

Soon, I was wide-awake moving through the crowd, delivering coffees
(without spilling), became an exciting challenge. For a brief
period, successfully gliding past the tables and the moving chairs
of the customers made me feel like the perfect waiter. Except for
the money part (I wasn’t overly concerned with collecting exact
amounts of money), I did everything right. In a place that sat 50
there were 75 to 100 people squeezed elbow to elbow. In the chaos,
my chemical high went unnoticed, and David was so busy in the
kitchen mixing drinks that I doubt he could even keep track of the
free drinks that were given away.

At the end of the busy night, Sheila invited me over for some wine
at her place. The apartment she lived in amazed me. The cat she
lived with sold dope for a living, and judging by the elegance of
her apartment, he made a good living. On every door was a hand
carved coat of arms. The baby blue carpet on the inside of the
apartment was a three-inch long shag and in the driveway sat a brand
knew pick-up truck with a camper on the back. Sheila and her partner
were in the process of splitting to Oregon. I happened to open the
wrong door on the way to the bathroom, when I walked in on her
boyfriend sitting on a bed full of money, which prompted Sheila to
explain that they were on their way out of town. She told me the
pigs might bust them at any time. In fact, her boyfriend told me I
could move into their apartment (they just paid the rent) if I
didn’t mind the hassle of getting busted. I politely declined the
invitation.

Fortunately, we did not get busted, and when I woke up, it was once
again time to go back to work. I decided this would be my last night
on the job. My finances were growing thin and I was really looking
forward to the peace and solitude of the beach. Working in the
coffee house was good experience, as someday I wouldn’t mind getting
into that business myself.

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About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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