It seemed like a dream.
I boarded a southbound train to Portland, headed down there to play an actual paying gig. I found out later that she was coming from Seattle. She claimed to be the heir to the Starbucks coffee empire. Whatshisname, Howard Schultz, the founder, was her father. I could tell that she’d already spent some time in the bar car before she slipped into the seat beside me, grabbed my brown felt Stetson off my head, and pressed it down over her wavy blond hair.
“You know how to play that guitar cowboy?” She slurred with a mischievous grin, nodding toward the instrument case by my side.
Well, I wasn’t the greatest guitar player, but drunk people don’t usually notice. I’d been working on it since I gave up playing the trumpet in the third grade. Then by some stroke of luck, I acquired a cheap electric guitar when I was ten and began teaching myself by writing down the words to songs I liked, then figuring out the chords.
I played an upbeat country love song that seemed to satisfy her momentarily. Then she asked me if I would go and get her another drink.
“The bastards cut me off!” She said, a little too loudly. But she was so pretty. People tend to let a pretty girl get away with being loud. So how could I say no?
And so, I made my way to the bar car and asked the guy if he knows how to make a Snake Bite. “Yeah,” He says,”You grab him by the tail!”
“Haha,” I say sarcastically, accompanied by the surliest look I could muster up, hoping he’d get the hint and hurry up and give me my drinks.
So then, me and pretty little Miss Schultz are drinking Snake Bites for a considerable length of time, and telling stories about our younger years as the scenic countryside passes outside the window. Turns out she is going to college in Arizona but is afraid of airplanes, and so she takes the train everywhere she goes.
“I like the train,” I tell her, “Because you can get drunk and then go take a nap in a sleeping compartment.” She agrees and suggests we should go and get one of them sleeping compartments for ourselves.
I excuse myself for a moment to use the gentleman’s facility, but when I return, I find Miss Schultz and the bartender are having a very heated exchange over the procurement of some additional Snake Bites. Next thing you know, Miss Schultz is threatening the guy with an ass whooping!
“My boyfriend will kick your ass!” She hollers.
Boyfriend? I ponder in confusion as I look around for this guy. I thought she was alone.
“Boyfriend?” I say out loud as it begins to register in my mind that she is referring to ME!
Now, although this bartender is not as tall as me, he is A LOT bigger, and for some reason, he is threatening to throw ME off the train! Well, I was trying to be diplomatic until then, and that’s the last thing I remember.
I was freezing cold and wet. I could hear a dog barking in the distance, and I couldn’t figure out why there was a dog loose on the train. I kept reaching for the blankets but couldn’t seem to get a hold of them. Something was stabbing me in the back, and I was thinking I should lodge a complaint with Amtrak for the crummy service. I was enjoying the kisses of a strange woman until I opened one eye and realized that I was NOT on the train, I was laying alongside of the railroad tracks in the dirt, and the strange woman was, in reality, a scraggly black dog licking the drool from the corner of my mouth.
“Quit that!” I yelled at the dog as I pushed him away. Sharp railroad rocks were digging into my back, and as I continued to survey my surroundings I could see my guitar and other possessions scattered all over the place.
The throbbing in my head reminded me that I’d drank a bit too much whiskey and lime the night before. I had to force myself to my feet to begin gathering up my things, which were now strewn along the railroad tracks as far as the eye could see. The scraggly black dog ignored the insults and rocks I hurled at him and insisted on tagging along. And so, off we went in search of civilization. I guess I got a dog now, just what I needed.
First it rained, then the clouds parted and it was hotter than the hubs of hell. Nothing phased that damn dog though. He seemed to be having the time of his life. He took off after every bird, squirrel and stray cat he saw along the way. I kept hoping that he’d stay gone, but no such luck. The mangey flea bag kept finding his way back to me.
Several hours later we stumbled into the train station in Eugene, Oregon, which was waaay past my intended destination. My feet were blistered and sore. Those pointy-toed boots weren’t made for walking. I had to find a place to rest, and before long I located a vacant spot on a bench near the ticket window. An old derelict eyed me with suspicion as he extracted an old banana peel from the trash can. After a few minutes I went and purchased a ticket back to Portland. Only problem was, the train didn’t come for another four hours, and I needed to get some sleep. I spotted some fairly clean looking cardboard next to the dumpster out back that I thought might make a nice place to lay down for a while. After inspecting the contents of the heavy, green steel container, I decided to make my bed inside where it would shelter me from the elements. I told that scraggly black dog to stay, although I secretly hoped that he’d run off while I was asleep.
Two old ladies were making their rounds in search of discarded valuables that might supplement their monthly income. I was so warm and comfortable inside of that dumpster that I didn’t want to move. Then suddenly my cardboard covers were lifted, but I tried to ignore it in hopes that they’d just go away and let me get some sleep. I could see the old gals face light up as if she’d just hit the jackpot at the bingo parlor.
“Edna!” She hollered, “Edna, hurry up and come over here! You’re not going to believe this. Somebody threw away a cowboy!”
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