Friday, May 19, 2006
Notes From The Road
So there I was: It was Thursday, I was cruising down Glendale Avenue eastbound from 67th. The same place as Tuesday, but the opposite direction. As I approached the railroad tracks, I saw the stupid fracking train again. Not to worry, it's going backwards again, just like last time, and the engines are almost to the intersection. But then it stopped, waited a minute, and started rolling slowly forward again. Man, I feel sorry for anybody who has to cross that track every day. It's a major suckfest.
So, I looked to my left, and what did I see? The "Jolly Roger Tattoo and Piercing Parlor." What was this? Some vision from heaven itself? The Wood Eye and I have been looking for this joint for weeks! What better place to find nautical-type earrings than a piercing parlor named "Jolly Roger?" Hell, it even flies the Jolly Roger - the infamous skull and crossbones. If any body has an anchor for The Wood Eye's ear, this be it, matey. ARRRGH!
Having nothing else to do but wait on that insidious train, I pulled in and parked. Hell, I would at least meet some cool people.
And I did. The lovely young woman working the register had so many tats that she vaguely resembled a road atlas, and her ears had holes so big you could push a golf ball through them. She's very attractive, gaping ear holes and all, but what the hell are those things going to look like when she's 75? Thank God, I'll be dead. She and the young man there, who both waited on me, were very nice and helpful, in a perforated sort of way. I told them I needed an anchor.
"For what kind of piercing?"
This one. (Pointing to my own ear)
She walks over, takes a look at my ear.
"Regular size piercing, eh? No, we don't carry any anchors of any type."
I'm thinking, Then what the hell difference did the size of my piercing make?
OK, how about a shark, or a ship's wheel?
"Nope. Sorry."
All right, then. How about pirate stuff, a skull and crossbones, maybe?
"No, we don't have anything at all like that."
This IS "The Jolly Roger," right?
"Sorry, it's just a name."
That's cool. I just needed something to do while I waited for the train, anyway.
"Tell me about it. I live on that side and work on this side."
Well, nice meeting you!
"My pleasure. It's not every day a middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt comes in looking for an anchor."
I said my goodbyes and headed out the door. The train was still there.
Stopped dead in its tracks. So to speak.
Screw it. I reversed field and went west, all the way back to 67th Ave, then went north, then east again on Olive. My patience only lasts so long.
Sorry, Wood Eye. I'll keep looking.
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So, I looked to my left, and what did I see? The "Jolly Roger Tattoo and Piercing Parlor." What was this? Some vision from heaven itself? The Wood Eye and I have been looking for this joint for weeks! What better place to find nautical-type earrings than a piercing parlor named "Jolly Roger?" Hell, it even flies the Jolly Roger - the infamous skull and crossbones. If any body has an anchor for The Wood Eye's ear, this be it, matey. ARRRGH!
Having nothing else to do but wait on that insidious train, I pulled in and parked. Hell, I would at least meet some cool people.
And I did. The lovely young woman working the register had so many tats that she vaguely resembled a road atlas, and her ears had holes so big you could push a golf ball through them. She's very attractive, gaping ear holes and all, but what the hell are those things going to look like when she's 75? Thank God, I'll be dead. She and the young man there, who both waited on me, were very nice and helpful, in a perforated sort of way. I told them I needed an anchor.
"For what kind of piercing?"
This one. (Pointing to my own ear)
She walks over, takes a look at my ear.
"Regular size piercing, eh? No, we don't carry any anchors of any type."
I'm thinking, Then what the hell difference did the size of my piercing make?
OK, how about a shark, or a ship's wheel?
"Nope. Sorry."
All right, then. How about pirate stuff, a skull and crossbones, maybe?
"No, we don't have anything at all like that."
This IS "The Jolly Roger," right?
"Sorry, it's just a name."
That's cool. I just needed something to do while I waited for the train, anyway.
"Tell me about it. I live on that side and work on this side."
Well, nice meeting you!
"My pleasure. It's not every day a middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt comes in looking for an anchor."
I said my goodbyes and headed out the door. The train was still there.
Stopped dead in its tracks. So to speak.
Screw it. I reversed field and went west, all the way back to 67th Ave, then went north, then east again on Olive. My patience only lasts so long.
Sorry, Wood Eye. I'll keep looking.
