The Feet of God

40 - TICKET TO RIDE

A big brown truck hauled off the road and screeched to a halt next to The Cowridge Clan tour bus.  A large man wearing a red-checkered hunting jacket and fuzzy cap got out.  “Hey!” he hollered.  “Ya’ll must be the Cowridge folks.  I’m Hank Decker, owner, manager and chief bottle-washer hereabouts.  I got a call that a fancy painted bus was parked out front of my place, so I figured it was you.”

Freddy bounded over to Hank Decker and enthusiastically shook his hand.  “Freddy Cowridge, Mr. Decker, Freddy Cowridge.  It’s a pleasure to play here at the La Barge Inn, and I know I speak for the whole family when I say we’re looking forward to entertaining the people of your fine community.”

As Freddy pumped Hank Decker’s hand I couldn’t help thinking that both men was about the same age.  In fact, Hank Decker might even be younger’n Freddy, but when it came to a comparison, Freddy seemed outright boyish standing next to the grizzled mountain man.

“Weee-ha!”  Hank Decker lifted the earflaps on his cap.  He stepped back and looked at Fabulous Freddy and whistled, “Damnation, the womenfolk are gonna go apeshit when they get a load of you.  Do you all dress like that?”

Freddy and Hank Decker engaged in an animated conversation as they headed arm-in-arm toward the La Barge Inn’s front entryway.  Bobby tossed his Styrofoam cup in some tall weeds, “Come on, roadie,” he said giving me a whack on the back.  “It’s time to go see where the magic will happen.”

We swung by the pile of fake equipment to pick up a few pieces and follow the lead of Freddy and Hank Decker.  The layout inside was pretty standard for establishments like this.  Off to the left was a knotty pine dining room with tables and checkered tablecloths and little milk glass vases filled with colorful sprigs of plastic flowers.  Ahead was the knotty pine barroom with brass detailing, walls covered with stuffed deer heads, neon beer signs and a collection of framed photographs depicting numerous decades and various groups of men proudly gripping their guns or their fishing rods while standing over or holding up the carcass or the kill.  I felt immediately at home.

Hank Decker took charge.  “The stage is over there by the kitchen.  You can set up your stuff there.  It’s Thursday, so we’ll be serving fried chicken and spaghetti tonight, well, not on the same plate.  It’s an either/or prix fixe supper.  I can tell you this, every table has been reserved ever since word got out you’d all be appearing.  Nora, that’s my wife, she’ll be serving dinner between six and eight o’clock, then we figured you could come on about nine.  That leaves enough time for everyone to eat and Nora to get the plates cleared away before your show.  How’s that sound?”  Freddy nodded and winked and patted Hank Decker’s back.

Meanwhile, Bobby and me headed back outside into the crisp cold air to get the band’s equipment.  Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had any shuteye.  So while Bobby headed to the pile of stuff needing to be carried inside for the evening’s performance, I walked past everything and headed straight for the tour bus.  I was near to passing out from sheer exhaustion and neglect of sleep.

Bobby yelled at me, “Hey, just where d’ya think you’re going?”

Climbing onto the colored bus I raised one hand and stuck my thumb into the air.

Inside it sure didn’t look like any big star’s converted school bus as you might expect.  There was only a few seats up front and a hanging blanket separating it from the back.  In the back of the bus there was old suitcases stacked in one corner and some plastic garbage bags with clothes spilling out and a bunch of sleeping bags thrown around.  I dug in a pile of sequined shirts and fringed vests to make a comfortable nest for myself.  I rolled up in a fetal position and was unconscious as soon as my head hit the stonewashed jeans….

Suddenly I was on a train.  But not like any train I’d been on before.  There was a lot of wild-eyed people screaming.  The train was climbing and climbing and climbing upward, and then it was going down, down, down like some death-defying roller coaster.  I could see the engine right there in the front of the car and I could see there was two engineers who kept moving around, fiddling with gears and wheels as we went down, down, down, then the other engineer pushed the first guy out of the way and he’d fiddle with the gears and wheels and we’d go up, up, up, climbing higher and higher.

All of a sudden there was a fare collector right up in my face.  “Ticket please.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to provide proof you paid to ride this train.  Check your sock, sir, I’m sure you’ll find your ticket.  Ticket please.”

“Where are we going?”

“Straight to hell,” the man laughed and laughed.  “Ticket please.”