Viva Las Vegas: A city of contrast

We travelled from Zion national park and instantly the scenery changed from lush to brush desert. Then we arrived in Las Vegas. I broke 3 laws within half an hour of entering Las Vegas. I took a photo in a casino and Hannah took a picture of me playing on a slot machine, that’s illegal to the power of two! I also entered a liquor store, an offence in itself in America. Pah, the law remains ignorant thus far!

Here is an extract from a Flog I wrote at the time, it’s rather entertaining reading back…..though awfully opinionated I must say….must have been the Nevada heat (‘my blood’s always been too thick for Nevada’ H S Thompson) anyway, here it is:

This place gets my skin right up straight away. There is something instantly suspicious and uneasy about it. The facade is the most important than the substance, just like Hollywood, yet here there is a vicious edge of greed. Sucking in the weak and baffling all with its concrete composites of flashing shit. Water is sold illegally by immigrants out of suitcases on street corners. Alcohol and greed are taxed over the counter at agreed rates with the government. Shifty preachers stand on street corners, awkwardly refreshing our memories of the warnings and guidance the Bible provides (see Photoblog)

On approach Las Vegas did have an impressive Skyline. A space needle, a pyramid with sphinx, a statue of liberty entwines with a rollercoaster like some tacky theme park. They even provide free drawn maps of the city, much like any big Theme Park. You can see where a film like Westworld would draw inspiration. The Eiffel tower, not full size, ‘towers’ over a crowded St Mark’s Square. I saw both in real life last summer, but these are all half-hearted attempts to capture something of the quality. This is the second attempt to copy Venice I’ve seen in the US. But these are weird. Like a celebrity look-a-like at the local Tesco. At first glimpse the brain tells you it’s the real thing, but your rational brain says ‘no way’. These forms fail to do more than provide a hint of the original in the shape of shops and casinos. They guide you into the money and away from the exits.

At night, like some rare and sordid bird, Las Vegas changes and its colours are displayed in a sexual dance of temptation. Amazing and baffling at once is also the sheer scale which is hard to take in. For example, a huge volcano made of water and light is edged by flame throwers. Amazing to watch, for a few seconds, while it is still new. After that, cheap and seedy like a prostitute in a window in Amsterdam. I expect they’ll try and remake that City next….it would fit in.

Las Vegas is cool though, don't get me wrong, but its this whole snake in the flower thing that corporate America has with all its customers. All the casinos acting like you are needed and they want to entertain you, when all they need is one person to loose it and fund the next hour’s electricity bill. They are like some kind of hideous mutated Venus fly-trap. They create false and attractive scents for the fly-like punters who they then grip in an inescapable claw which squeezes their money out, powering the perpetuation of their cause. It is a chain reaction started by greed and maintained by a faceless, mindless self-perpetuator .



A perfect illustration of the place was the all-you-can-eat I went to. I never see these places as challenges, more of obligations to consume EVERYTHING I possibly can, without wasting it naturally. Now remember, I went to the best all you can eat in Tacoma ( a cause of the Log Blog….) and this place was a million miles off that standard. From the first bite it was clear that all the food was ash. The apples were crunchy water and the only decent food was the unfarmed fish.


My conclusion about Las Vegas is that it needs some kind of wave of destruction. It sounds harsh, but it hasn't been built to last. I really can’t see it thriving in 500 years’ time. For a start it is dependant on the Hoover Dam, which has a time limit on it for sure. Once that blows, it will be a ghost town, too pointless to replenish, left only with skeletal steel girders poking up and deep underground, ransacked vaults filled only with worthless paper and rotting sewage. That’s how I see it. This place has nothing new to offer except excess on a level trumped only perhaps by Dubai. Vegas can only imitate. It is America’s biggest Remake. Bigger than any of the crap Hollywood is repumping out. It is perhaps the embodiment of an endemic quality found among many of our generation.

Generation 2.0: Remake.
That's us.
We can do it better!

But how?


In Las Vegas it’s with Concrete and bribes.

The whole mentality of our generation…jealous of past success yet perhaps scared to try anything too culturally radical. As a result we just try to do the same again, feeding off unoriginal thought that wasn’t THAT great in the first place.


We can do it better! I’ll remix the songs of the past, plaster over progress in the name of progress yet blanket out character in favour of pre-fab concrete mixes.

Yet this all said…In many ways Vegas is very futuristic and offers a glimpse of a future no city could realistically justify. It has money to burn so can do what it likes. For example, you can only cross some roads by escalators. Everywhere looks like one of those computer generated promotional videos made by architects. Yet in contrast there are flyers advertising prostitutes everywhere on the floor, scattered after being thrust them by over-weight sweaty Mexicans. The people tell much about the city too. You see people of all shapes and sizes. Some like they have a spare tyre and others look like skeletons with boob jobs. At Caesar’s palace they placed Bacchus at the centre of their decorative piece with Orpheus at the edge entertaining and Venus distracting. I doubt many would be pretentious enough to read into the classical connotations, but I felt the figures were very apt.

Make up to die for?

I’ve been home for a while now, but before I could fly home I had to get through LAX security first-very lax. Travelling during the ‘orange’ level just made the security staff twitchy. And don't get me started on the Bush administration's threat level.

The following is an extract from a live ‘flog’ I did in the airport on my phone which I subsequently added to:

It’s orange today and was red yesterday. It’s like a weather forecast for imagined disaster.

They have army personnel lining up with gloves searching our bags. It's quite a sight. I originally thought they were going on our flight, rather excessive intimidation I thought.
I tried taking a photo of the process and got quite a few (see my Photoblog for the best…)
I was stopped by a man in a suit who informed me I couldn't take photos.

‘Why’ I asked politely, ‘just out of interest’ and all.

‘Because you are showing them how we do businesses’ He said.

‘Exactly’ I thought to myself but knew better than to argue with a man who was most likely from the CIA and held my proverbial ticket home in his hand. Though, I now was a witness to the business of intimidation through security.

‘Always remember who is benefiting’ said Hunter S Thompson once.

Business.

It’s like the old Dickensian question, who wins the court case…..it’s always the lawyers!

It is very similar in an environment of fear. Who benefits? Those selling and supplying private security and the governments quietly introducing ‘security taxes’ and stock markets and other baffling economic thingamajigs I’ll never understand.

The comment the guy made about showing how it’s done…like somehow ‘they’ wouldn't know how to search a bag.
It was a real ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mentality. Like it is a war….on terror.
Well, the only terrorising I have had is from the security forces and the media. I like to think Mi5 and CIA and all that are genuinely warning us about things and preventing etc….I’m sure they are….but a little part of me questions the Public Relations aspect of it all.

The flaw in the war on terror is difficult to articulate. How can it be a war on terror? Terror is an induced state of mind. Does this mean anyone who claims to be a terrorist is covered by the Geneva Convention as they have had war declared on them? Or is the war against our own fears, promising to stamp them out. It certainly is not this, for who can say they are relaxed on the tube even before the 7-7-05 attacks? This is a war like no other in our modern age, fought on ideals like WW2, but against an enemy which is largely a creation of our subconscious and existing in it too. It is the McCarthy witch-hunt of our age and yet somehow much more sinister. It is against people who not only make us question our lives and systems; they claim WE are the infidels. How dare they? We have plenty of morals, as long as they don’t disturb the economy TOO much. I believe the soldiers at the airport served an interesting Orwellian dual purpose. They served not only to perpetuate our terror (acting more as a visible flexing of power than anything practical) but also as our protectors. The enemy is largely imaginary. How do you have combat with an imaginary enemy?

You dress up people in combat gear in airports to and look for it in people’s bags, searching through lipsticks and makeup, where it might just be hiding.

I have been typing this into my phone for a while now. Three people in ‘Men in Black’ style suits are now talking to each other while looking at me. Hannah is staring them out while I write this in my phone.

They probably think I’m a spy now. I'm about to get probed, I can feel it coming.

It’s an interesting experience seeing this process. It is a real display.
I may get to feel it soon as well as see it….

My Opinion on Personal Freedom Vs Personal Safety


There is no way to stop people dying…on a long enough timescale the survival rate is zero someone once said. Bear this in mind.

There today seems to be a similar acceptance of terrorism. The idea it is an unpreventable inevitability, vaguely predicted by ministers with sniffs of intelligence which have been guffed down their phone lines.

There is no way to prevent terrorism.

From the perspectives of Governments, organised terrorism is in some ways easier to detect and use to frame people.
But what's happened to the individual Nutter we used to hear so much about, especially from the USA?
The guy that god told to do it (who didn’t have a turban or is not called Bush) or the people who had voices in their heads (same sort of thing really…)
It can't be long until one crazy person acts alone and unexpectedly.

We see it with guns, knives and even with doctors.

Be it a planned, gradual and slow slide into the areas of thought which justify the random killing of others or a blinding flash or irritation which causes a reflex of horrific violence.

So really there is no way to ever be water tight. How ever many civil liberties are stripped, sliced and trimmed. Yes, organised terrorism is a more persistent and efficient means of guiding people into thoughts which justify the killing of others but it is not random. It is just a group of like-minded people who feel, for whatever reason, that violence is their only means of effective resistance. Be it Guy Fawkes, Gerry Adams, Bush or Osama.

But on top of this there will always be the freaks.

I'm not saying the billions of pounds spent on surveillance are wasted, but people should just remember that they are the trawler nets of society, to fish out the obvious problems. However there is no such thing as a perfect system. Thank goodness.
Nothing should have an unchecked power.
Even those powers which can save lives.
Sometimes it is necessary to draw a line and say; well if I die I die.
Civil liberties are more important than life or death.
These are the things that make life worth living and what we are all fighting for in some way or other.
Be it from behind a desk in MI5 or a cave in Pakistan. We all try to guard what we have. The rights of Our lives are too precious not to protect.

You Can Have My Money but You Can't have My Pizza

So I’d just got this pizza on Venice beach. Not just any pizza mind, but a 20inch monster (see my photoblog). It was to keep myself and Hannah alive during the next 30 hours of travel (a trick we learned in Greece on the non-stop trains). I walked for 10min from the pizza place to our hostel and was twice asked if I’d give someone some pizza. There must be something about a huge pizza that makes people assume you can't possibly eat it all and have in fact bought it with the sole intention of sharing it. On most occasions, I would have considered it - but this was MY food and our only sustenance for the next day. I wasn't giving it up with out a fight. And a Knife fight at that.

So with this pizza we bid farewell to our fairly grotty but friendly Venice beach hostel, setting off for the Greyhound station in downtown LA. We took the hour long bus drive and got off at the stop for the number 60. I'd got chatting to the driver and a couple of his colleagues on the bus journey and they were all discussing their shared ideas around karma. I mostly listened but it was an interesting talk that had me thinking in a useful frame of mind for the events which were to be served to us.

The driver dropped us off, asking if we were SURE we wanted to get off. It was only then I looked at the time and realised we were about to make a change in downtown LA at 11:30pm. Not wise, even if you're a BALABD, which I’m not, nor do I intend to be any time soon, biatch. As soon as I stepped off the bus I immediately registered that it was not an area I really wanted to be in at any time, never mind with Hannah at night loaded with suitcases stock full of mug-worthy products.

Nevertheless, we found our bus stop, and it soon became clear that right behind us was 'Your friendly Neighbourhood Dealer'. I'm not quite sure what he was dealing, but judging by the condition of most of his customers and his rates, I would guess crack. I may be wrong but you don't get those kinds of shakes with a Happy Meal. Hannah, justifiably, started emitting fearful vibes. I did my best to calm her down using only my voice, for if we were obviously uncomfortable, we would lead the dealer to think we felt threatened, which I didn't. It was his customers who scarred me. He was clearly relatively minted and knew what he was doing, probably dealing drugs only from necessity. His customers however (of all demographs and ethnicity) had little in common but for a desperate addiction and a small money flow issue. One of his customers palmed some coinage into the dealers hand and tried to make off with the crack before he could count it. He was $2.75 short. I remember the figure because of the speed with which the dealer counted it in complete darkness. We were not witnessing a massive drug-ring transaction here. This was petit stuff, likely to attract petit criminals....particularly ones short of $3 and looking for a chump to knife for it. That made me nervous and my back was never turned in any direction for more than 3 seconds.

And Hope, A Winged Chariot with under-lighting

In the midst of this potentially volatile situation, a luminous carriage of hope pulled up in front of us. A brand-new sports car with under-lighting shined from the horizon and stopped. A white couple, say 25ish, in what turned out to be a nice roomy sports car were obviously scouting for someone white to ask directions. They pulled over and asked us if we knew where Tokyo town was. I replied I didn't know and they registered we were from out of town. It was probably the suitcases that tipped them-off, but you're never too sure with Californians. 'You guys aren't from round here are you?...Are you guys going the greyhound station?' the guy asked. A guilty wave of relief ran through me. The hand of intervention had taken us out of this shit-hole; Karma had rewarded me for not giving that poor starving girl a slice of my big fat pizza. 'Yes....' I replied, while me and Hannah exchanged happy glances.'...were getting out of LA on the Greyhound'.

'Here it comes' I thought, 'our obligatory offer of a lift'.....'my chance to make a life-long friend and share stories about that time he rescued me from a nasty gang-raping....'ha ha ha' we'd chortle, while sipping expensive sprits on the yacht he'd named after that billion dollar company we'd started all those happy years ago.......this will all be in our shared past.....


The girl leaned over her boyfriend and shouted, quite audibly, 'well you guys had better get out of here, it's a really bad area,’ 'it's a f*cking sh*t hole' the guy helpfully added.

And that was it. The fact we were waiting at a bus stop and flagging every taxi somehow hadn't conveyed to them we were rather keen to follow their advice. But before I could pick my jaw up, they were at the next set of lights, probably discussing how kind they were to have informed us of the plight we were in. Half-way, they obviously realised they perhaps should have done more and shouted back to the drug dealer (this is the truth, I swear) 'don't let any shit happen to these guys'. The man was wearing what was possibly the most self-satisfied grin I’d ever seen. I bet he thought he was the good fucking Samaritan....asking a strange drug-dealer to protect two fish-out-of water tourists in the middle of LA's shitty downtown quarter. And I bet he slept that night. Probably after receiving a congratulatory blow-job from his girl-friend for being such a great guy to those poor English tourists. I bet he's going to die with a smug expression on his face. The dirty cocksuckers.

That was the drug-dealer's opinion of them anyway and something similar flashed through my mind but just stopped at my tongue as they drove off. The group of REALLY bad looking guys across the street could have thought it was aimed at them. I didn't want to start a turf war and have to teach them all a lesson in how to get their asses kicked, I wasn't in the mood.

It was at this point I entered into dialogue with the dealer, mostly out of disgust at this display of utter insensitivity. Not only did they announce to the street we were tourists, but added it was a shit hole, and on top of it....left us there with the request of protection from a crack dealer. Even he wouldn’t have asked himself to look after someone. We both concluded that if they had really cared, they would obviously have given us a lift out of there. Here's that two-faced 'have a nice day' bullshit again. Self-righteous people blinded by a cloud of smug around their hypocrisy. And what the hell is a 'sport' car anyway, isn't that an oxymoron? It's not like you have to pedal. The dealer said something along the lines of:

'Black or white, people are all the same, all looking out for themselves and being shitty to other people'

So we chatted away discussing their rudeness while he made various transactions with the desperate, the low - and the soon to be high. You know you're in a bad area, when even the drug dealers are lamenting your presence and attempting to sympathise. There is a beautiful irony in this somewhere, I’m sure.

It was at this point the third person of the night asked me for some pizza. To describe him, I’d have to say he was a kind of black Father Jack, but with dreads. Again, the size of the pizza must have convinced him my only reason for buying it was to share it with crusty drug addicts, who smell quite considerably of their own wee. I told him I couldn't as it was not only my breakfast but also my lunch.

Our Guardian Bag-lady

The friendly dealer came and went and a few other shady characters began to circle us as bus 60 seemed less likely to ever come. Then our guardian angel appeared...well. Sort of. Our proper one must have been on the loo or something and sent a homeless woman instead, who also happened to have a keen interest in my pizza box. She was in a pretty bad state and I kinda didn't want to be rude, so I engaged her in conversation. Despite her state, she nonetheless recognised she needed to help us get the hell out of that place. She didn't ask for payment and instead seemed satisfied to be taught words in 'that lovely English accent you got'. When she realised we wanted to get out, by any means possible, she took it upon herself to run out into the middle of the street and try to flag taxis down for us. Somehow, I think most cabbies may have been put off her potential custom by the fact she was screaming and waving her arms in the middle of the road. Largely, while I appreciated she was trying to help us, she didn't. She kept muttering incomprehensible comments under her breath adjoined with discerning looks and nods towards the local drug dealer. She also kept making meticulous notes on the palm of her hand, using her other index finger.

When the bus eventually arrived after what must have been 40min, she asked for money. I wasn't about to get my wallet out in the middle of the street. When I refused to give her money she insisted on accompanying us to the greyhound station. I said I would pay for her to get on the bus (about 30p that time of night). The bus driver obviously knew her and didn’t seem to mind she didn’t have a ticket. So she got off with us after a short 5 min journey.We agreed we had clearly made the right choice in not walking to the station, which had crossed our mind a couple of times. Once we were off the bus our Angel of Los Angeles, albeit in good disguise, asked again for money. I repeated that I would not give her any money while we were in the middle of the street but if she followed me into the greyhound station then I would see what I had.

She obliged and politely argued that she hadn't gone to all this trouble for nothing. I politely reminded her that, although we were appreciative of her help, we had not requested it. Saying that made me feel a bit shitty though and all that talk of Karma just swirled back into my brain. I had a few dollars in my wallet, we got out safely, and who knows, maybe her craziness had scarred off any would be threats. I handed her a few spare notes for her help, if only to get rid of her before she ended up following us to San Francisco.

Then she did it.

She asked the question that so many others before had done. I'd given her some cash....but she had to didn't she....she had to ask....it was just too big and smelled too damn good not to. I'd have asked too.....

At this I gave her a look which dismissed her hopes and loudly said, as if to announce to all of LA,

'You can have my money, but you can't have my pizza'

And triumphantly, I marched through the boarding gate.....little did I know my trouble had only just started. I was on my way to have a big argument with a Big Angry LA Bus Driver

Snakes on a Plane

Is this for real?did they really make a film about this and call it that and cast Sam L Jackson? oh dear Hollywood.....oh dear. I mean, Surf Nazis Must Die was bad (that is a real film, see IMDB.com) but this is a new low

tip. if you can guess that ploy from the title, it's not movie material, it's a childrens' book

Fossil Eyes

The strange world of Yellowstone park. Coming soon

Flog: BEAR

ok, i just saw a bear and my heart is still beating. I was just talking about how we were in bear country and how the idea was making me nervous. I guess i must have sensed it. I caught it out the corner of my eye on the way to Inspiration Point. I totally lost my cool. My camera ran out of batteries that instant and my camera phone crashed. Hannah was so scarred she refused to get the SLR out her bag and i trod on my sunglasses in the panic. Eventually i got it together. You don't see a bear everyday. well, i had seen one the day before but not got a photo.....

so, there i was starring at this huge bear with its cub and the crowds started to gather. Suddenly it stood on it's hind legs and a primitive fear ran through me. we were at a safe 40 Ft separated by a 20ft ledge -

it was an incredible sight and i was very lucky to have seen it. In all the panic i managed to get one decent photo.....Hannah hadn't emptied her backed up card so i was having to choose which photos of Yellowstone to delete to take pics of the bear

out of ten photos, one was ok, the rest were blurred i was shaking so much

Flog

Ok, through the miracle of technology i am sat in a tent in Utah using a lapton in Korean,

The following entries starting with 'Flog' have been copied from my phone (hense FoneLog), which i write in when i am on the move. This is why they are in the present tense, just on case there was any confusion.

Trekin'

Well I have reached the end of my main blog output....I leave at 530am for the trek tomorrow and it is unlikely I will get onto a computer very often in the next 14 days. However, upon my return, I will publish some pieces which I have started work on but not yet finished....so lots more to come!

Thank you to all those who have been keeping up so far, it's great to have all the input....the more the merrier!

See you all soon

Jack

PhotoBlog

OK, i have uploaded about 7 photos, it's a start but that may be it for a while....they are just give you an idea of what is to come...

De-Clog Blog

OK, waited for it to drain while writing that last blog, and it didn't. i couldn't flush it again for fear it would over-flow and flood thier basement with shitty water. id never be welcome again i fear.

well you will be relieved to know i have sorted it. it got messy....i even went down to the basement to look for a plunger and found a loo brush (and some nasty spiders)

I had to leave a sign on the door of the toilet saying 'please do not use' in case Betty came down. all the time in the basement i was panicking that Betty would start coming down the stairs. she only bloody did....

there i was sprinting up from the basement wielding a loo brush shouting 'noooooo' in a dramatic cinematic style....

I'm surprised she didn't have a heart attack


anyway, i plunged like a MoFo and cleared it away....i have never been so happy to see a clear toilet

damn you all you can eat crab.....damn you for tasting so good

Emergency Log Blog

Ok, its 1am in mike and Reba's house and I have a big problem. I went for an all you can eat crab and salmon today....really rich food....

it kinda went right through me.

well I just had to take a poopie and I blocked their loo.

I mean one BIG pan blocker (American sewers are really narrow, like those of turkey where you cant flush paper....)

the urgency is because it's about 5 min until the mother in law usually comes down for a wee....

its backed right up and i'm shitting it (if you will excuse the pun)

any suggestions, blog now..... please

Jack (I got the keyboard a bit messy typing this)

XXL-Ray

There was a news item on Fox today....

People in America are getting so fat that they can't fit in X-ray machines. As a temporary solution, some patients are being sent to vetenary practices, where they can fit in the hippo boxes and get X-rayd

how embarrassing would that be....

hey honey....How did it go at the Vets today?

Golden Eye (Octopussy)

George Orwell once wrote that

'a toad has about the most beautiful eye of any living creature. It is like gold, or more exactly it is like the golden-coloured semi-precious stone which one sometimes sees in signet-rings, and which I think is called a chrysoberyl'

I wouldn't mind betting that when George Orwell wrote this, he had never starred at an Octopus straight in the eye. I was privileged enough today to visit Seattle Aquarium, where they have the largest Octopus in the world living underneath the very aquarium in the sea (Giant Pacific.....18ft and up). There were two octopus on display, both had just been moved into their new tanks and as a result were curious to explore their new environment. These animals have an intelligence comparable to dogs, so need constant mental stimulation. A new tank is an exiting thing! Anyway, Octopus have an amazing ability to change colour, basically by controlling how much red pigment is released to the surface of their skin...but interestingly today I noticed it was not just their skin, but also their eyes.

The eye of an octopus is one that looks right back at you, with an equally inquisitive look. The pupil itself is rectangular, similar to a goat's eye, yet their is no malevolence in the eye of an octopus. The colouring around the pupil is similar to bronze or other atomised metals such as platinum which have been sprayed as a mist into liquid glass. Not only is this amazing colour always flashing at you, but there is a deep speckled red in this texture too, which pulses in and out, according to the mood of the creature. It is however, very subtle, and if you look close enough, you can see the gentle mist of colour flow through their eyes in time with their triple heart beat as the look right back at you.

I sometimes wonder what they are thinking about me. Probably something like 'I wonder how tasty his big brain is' and 'how hard would it be to crack into it and suck it out.......mmmmm brains.....'

Something like that probably.

Don't be disrespecting me (biatch)

So me and Hannah are in Tacoma now. It's good to be here staying with Mike and Reba again. They are such lovely people and excellent hosts. For readers who don't know, Mike and Reba met my parents when they were out hitchhiking over 30 years ago, they have stayed in touch since. This is a long blog, so I tried to make it funny, it helped me get through it.....don't feel you have to....I understand......:(

Anyway, since my last blog I have slept very little. In my whole time in the US, I have never felt physically threatened, I have watched tramps fighting at 4am in SanFran and been shadowed by drug dealers in downtown LA, but never felt in danger of physical violence. So this is the story of how tiredness can nearly land you with an LA bus driver's boot up your ass, but in the end, how I'm always right, even when I'm wrong.

While the fishing trip I did was great, you have to realise that I had got up at 4am that morning (having gone to bed at 12:30am). I had fished from 6am until 4pm, and then walked back up hill (I mean, San Fran hills.....) to the hostel. That night/morning at 1am we went to the greyhound station, this time unaccompanied by a smelly tramp (see You can have my money...when I finally publish it). We then bussed it ALL the way from SanFran to Tacoma in one. Check it on a map, that's pretty much Loughborough to Rome by bus....(and I have done that). We were scheduled to arrive in Tacoma that day at 9pm. We had a few midnight changes, the kind where you wake up, hear a place you're going to followed by a number, grab your bag, look for that number, walk to it, wait, show a ticket and get back on another seat and sleep. No one talks, and sometimes it feels just like a dream, with a few random tramps in it. Well we were waiting at this one stop, and our soon to be driver said 'you guys don't talk much' while he checked our ticket. Well we were instantly defensive, explaining that we had been up for to long (It being a 3am change and all....). Turns out he just wanted to offer us the front seat next to him, so we wouldn't 'disturb him with our yakking'. Great! A seat together and we were last in the que! There is NOTHING worse than a 10 hour coach journey next to a fat smelly person you don't know....it's bad enough if you do know them, but at least you can lean on their shoulder and dribble without causing offense. I think I really worried this one fat woman...she told me she was running away from her husband....the next thing she knew, my head was asleep on her shoulder, accompanied by a sympathetic pool of my dribble. I hope she didn't think I was making my moves on her, not that there's much difference between my moves and me just dribbling on someone. For the perplexed among you, I have always dribbled in my sleep....I have come to accept there is nothing I can do about it....the audiotapes didn't work and the 'Dry Nights Self-Help' book suggested I wear rubber pants....I don't think the librarian understood me.

Anyway, it was at one of those ungodly hours and we had a stop in the back end of nowhere, round the corner from Assvile and just down the road from Gene-Pool Creek, the kind of place where a bus arrival makes news. Up until now, we had had the model of a greyhound driver. He was polite, punctual and proudly wore several gold (plastic imitation) badges awarded to him by GreyHound for his service. He also wore a standard issue Greyhound torch on his Bus Driver Utility Belt (Order yours now in time for Christmas) and a side parting you couldn't fault. I imagine his badges were awarded for things such as Politeness, Punctuality and superb attention to Hair Presentation. I think he was the kind of guy that would have been the star-kid at scout camp, and once into the real world, realised he couldn't live without someone giving him badges every time he wiped his ass successfully. Maybe that's unfair...anyway....the model driver left us in this inbred backwater at 6:30am as his clock was full. So there we were, a bus load of tired passengers, removed from our bus for 'cleaning', which was actually a euphemism for rummaging through our bags and replacing the toilet role in the 'toilet' which was apparently supplied for 'our convenience'.

That's what I love about America. Everything is for 'your convenience' not theirs. What bullshit!!

I know for a fact it's more convenient for them to supply a toilet because it's much more 'convenient' to have one guy plug a hose into the back of a bus every 100 miles than go around on hands and knees turd spotting. It's far easier, and 'convenient' for me to drop my mess wherever I happen to be on the bus and so much harder for them to remove it from the windscreen, or wherever it may have lodged during an emergency stop. You see, it's a brilliant lie they have created to make you think they are serving you, when it fact, you are serving them. This goes right to the top in America. It's the whole 'Have a nice day' crock of shit that started sometime after sales teams realised you could train politeness. You KNOW they don't care behind that till. They know you know they don't care. No one cares about anyone, we get that. But no, the Americans had to go and just pretend, because it spreads goodwill and kindness.....baa humbug. Damn you Walt Disney.

oooooooooooook

PART II

That was a tangent and a half. Hope I didn't dent the American dream too much there. So anyway, this model bus driver has left us (who, by the way, was raised polite and not taught it during a half-hour sales team video in between 'Health and Safety' and 'How to Wipe Your Arse'). The next driver however, was a very different breed all together.

He was driven in half an hour late by his wife in front of a bus load of heat exhausted passengers, desperate to get back on the bus where all out food and belongings were. We all rushed him as he strutted to the bus we and were promptly told to go and wait in the bus station until we were 'called to out boarding gate'....oh how glamorous can you make a coach sound....

Anyway, me being me, I wasn't really in the mood for all this power-trip petit bureaucrat guff and wanted to check that our water bottles hadn't been thrown away during the bus 'cleaning'. I explained to the driver that it was five hours until the next stop and wanted to know if we needed to buy some more water, in case ours had been thrown away. He looked at me, and I knew he hadn't listened to a word I had said. I politely explained my seat was just above the stairs, I wouldn't need to go into the bus, just peer over and check.

'NO' he bellowed......'OK' I said. The second he turned his back, I just quickly whipped up the stairs and was about to peer over when he banged the barrier hard a few times in front of me and shouted 'NO MEANS NO'.

Now that pissed me off. It takes a lot to do that. Ok, not that much when I'm tired.

There really was no need to act like that. He lost his cool and instantly all of my respect. No one has said 'NO MEANS NO' to me since I asked twice to play in the sand-pit at nursery. So I looked him straight in the eye, bear in mind he was a 6,4 Black LA bus driver, and I calmly said 'OK means OK' and turned my back. Now, I didn't know much about this guy, but I knew I had already REALLY pissed him off. He shouted at me a lot and I think I heard 'get your ass back here.....'

I walked calmly into the depot and quickly changed my clothes, so as not to be instantly recognisable. I may be passive aggressive, but I'm not an idiot.

I saw him coming and placed on my dark glasses so he couldn't read my eyes. He went down the que looking for me and eventually did find me. In front of the whole que he shouted 'you, I want a word with you'. I purposely ignored him, so he'd have to shout again, ensuring the whole que was following the debate with a mild interest. Sure enough he bounded over and got in my face. It went something like this....

BBLABD (big black LA bus diver): I didn't appreciate what you said back there

Me: I just wanted to check if I had any water.

BBLABD: I just feel you were disrespecting me man, you need to respect me blah blah, I'm a big guy...

Me:what do you mean 'you're a big guy', what does that have to do with anything?

BBLABD: What it means is I'm a big guy and if I had to, id put my foot up your ass, that's what.

ME: are you threatening me with physical violence, because that isn't very professional ( this really pissed him off, I think he actually twitched a bit)

BBLABD: No, I'm not a professional (at this point I scanned his uniform for a number/name and he shouts...) 'OH you want to know my name, well its Blabd, OK, and what are you going to do about it?'

You see, I knew I wasn't going to do anything about it. This is the game I play with bouncers and other professional big guys who are just waiting for that one excuse to beat the crap out of you. The game is, you tease them, and don't ever give them an excuse. I promise you, there is nothing more infuriating for them. As a skinny white guy, this was is my only method of revenge against these bullying lumps of muscle, just being very English and polite. The image of Tom and Jerry with Spike the dog, tied to the chain, where Tom has measured it out and drawn a line and stands there blowing raspberries.....

At this point, he remembered he had another power, other than 'putting his foot up my ass' which was to chuck me off the bus. I also conceded, not wanting to spend one more minute in Imbredsville, but he had no grounds and I didn't want to give him any. We both kind of stepped of the offensive. He admitted he had slept badly and may have been short tempered. I said:

'I may have been a little rude, but there is always a place for courtesy (greyhound advertise their drivers as being so) and I don't feel you were very courteous.'

There was no disagreeing, I had been a little rude, nothing more and he had over reacted. He said that as a bus driver in LA there were a couple of times when he thought it was going to have to come to it.

I would have hated to have had him in my playground, and I went to Boothwood. I asked him did he honestly think I'd start on him, 'do I look like a have a suicide wish?'. At this he finally laughed.

We both laughed. Him because I'd acknowledged his physical prowess and massaged his ego, and I was just happy to get back on the bus and tell the awaiting passengers about how I made our driver flip....he was already a villain owing to his lateness. I counted 30 sympathetic tuts during the recounting of my story.

He did however get his revenge. He placed a woman next to me in Hannah's place and for the next 4 hours, I was sat next to a fatty on the run from her husband. Oh man did she get a wet shoulder.

Whales, Sealions and Salmon.....

Well I was up at the ass crack of dawn walking through a dark San Francisco on my own, gently clutching my fishing knife in my pocket while dodging tramp fights. All in the name of Salmon fishing. Despite my alarm not going off at 3:45am (yes, that early) I woke up naturally at 5am and was on the boat by 530am, the first. I picked my spot on The Captain Joey, (confusingly captained by Captain Tom) and got set up.....as dawn was cracking through the darkness we were sailing under the golden gate bridge, (one of the most magnificent sunrises I have ever seen).

One of the first things I did got me a bad name.....I thought it was quite innocent.....I peeled a banana. This, according to Hawaiian folklore curses the whole boat (the fish don't like the oils or something). So it started the day off nicely I thought, we had a struggle to over come. They didn't see it that way.

In spite of all that within the first 10 min, 3 X 30lb King salmon had been landed (none to my name so far). We were pulling out nice Silver Salmon all day, but owing to over fishing (and those god damn native americans ;) they are endangered and were required by law to put them back (alive). To their credit, they had an officer checking us of the boat. No gun this time and very friendly. So I did technically catch a salmon, but it was a 25lb silver, we didn't even land it in the boat for a photo.....sorry, no proof! Also got a jellyfish....hey, its a 'fish'.....

The Captain then announced that he had spotted two Wales off the front of the boat. The whole boat ran to the front and they turned out to be HUGE humpbacks. You really can't appreciate their size until you get so close you are sprayed by one. So as I was fumbling (and failing) to get a decent video of these magnificent animal, two smaller scale critters were bothering my rod. I was called back to my rod, I had caught a King Salmon....FINALLY (we were into the last hour now).

This is where the déjà vu kicks in. Just as I get to my rod, just like in Washington a couple of summers back with Dad and Mike, up pop two fat greedy eyes and SNIP, the salmon is nicked by a sea lion. I was the first of the day, but not the last. 6 others suffered the same fate. The captain later told me many local fisherman shot these creatures and 'don't give a shit about what those environmentalists have to say'. I could see his point. They can't catch Salmon themselves (nothing can except bears and sharks!), being so fat and slow and all, unless they have been hooked by fisherman, so all they do is breed, sit around scratching their arises and steal fish off of the fisherman, who pay licenses that go towards Salmon breeding programs.....aghhh the fat blubbery bastards. Sorry, this is turning into a Daily Mail fishing Mag. So that's 2-0 to the Sealions.

I didn't get another fish that day, must have been that banana.