T Minus One, Part 2

I cannot remember what I was apparently given temporary custody of. One of those mysteries.

Likely answers include: several hundred books, which we will be selling en-route to pay for gasoline. Back-up camera equipment that White Bison found laying around their office -- none of which I have looked at for fear that it will prove to be better than mine. The Eagle Staff, which is in the back of my van and, according to US 50 CSF 22, makes me a felon for possessing eagle parts and (unknowingly) crossing state lines without being at least 1/4 Native American. I think I'm going to ask that someone else carries that from here on out.

I'm not sure why, when we were dividing up equipment, the Eagle Staff went in the car with the only white guy.



I'm not going to apologize for the several day delay between the beginning and the end of this post. Internet is spotty, and free time is less. All I can say is that I'll keep trying my best.



The interruption was due to Wayne's eyeball, which decided to start oozing and generally making a nuisance of itself. As I was, without question or qualification, the least useful team member that particular night, I offered to drive him to the emergency room. As we'd just met and had spoken all of about a dozen words, it promised to help each other remember our names.

The emergency room, on a Friday afternoon, is a grim place to be. Luckily, they decided to give Wayne last priority, so we had several hours (3.5) to grow acclimated to its various horrors. Face masks were a common sight -- apparently swine flu is not only here, but cousin Jacob had said that two kids in his school already had it. Incidentally, someone was wearing a face mask at the hotel, too. Wayne eventually half-dozen off, while I made lifelong friends with a little brat whose mother was lying on the floor near my feet. She was moaning loudly and may have been slightly dissolving. He, at about age eight or so, was sporadically yelling at her for not buying him a candy bar, intermixed with pouring his sugary drink on the table, then sucking it up. He was, in turns out, bored; a fact which he was not shy about announcing to the world. Often.

We became best friends after he noticed I was trying to divert myself with my GameBoy. He set up shop practically on my lap and began a long running list of facts and opinions.

"I have a PSP. It's better than a GameBoy."
"Is that a maze? I bet I could solve it."
"Have you ever heard of Mortal Kombat? I'm really good. The guy with the mask can rip your spine out."
"I want to play now!"
"That looks hard. Can I try?"
"My mom's whining."
"I sure wish I could play that for a while."
"My brother is good at racing games, but I'm better."

I'm ashamed to say that he wore me down, and eventually I just gave him the dang thing. He proceeded to show me how to beat the maze. Or the spider. Or something. I took a little nap.


By 2 AM, Wayne and I had driven across town to find eye medicine. He was leaning back in his chair, partially blinded, and I was searching for the hotel. This was about the time that the police pulled me over for suspected drunk driving.

In my defense, I was driving slowly to look for road signs. This also explains my partial turns, abandoned after deciding they were not the right way. Also, the van has a solid back -- thus, no real-view mirror and a huge blind spot. I guess he'd been following me for a while.

So, I get siren'd over and the police officer finds me, a little scared and pretty exhausted, and Wayne, who was apparently dead except for his eyes, which were violently escaping his body in leaky rivulets. I tried to explain that I was looking for a hotel -- he made a note of that before telling me that I had driven right past the turn-off for the hotel two blocks earlier. My nerve broken, I answered all his other questions with little noises and whimpers.

He ran my driver's license through his computer for a long, long time.