Good afternoon sports fans! Do you guys remember when people used to say that when they walked into a room? No? Ya me neither! Anyways, I know last time we talked, I said that I’d see you tomorrow, and I also know, that it has been a dozen tomorrows since I’ve posted something. To be fair, I’ve told you that I’m a procrastinator, but I’m also working on it. The statue of David was just a huge chunk of marble before it was chiseled into form. Am I comparing my writing to the artistry of the iconic masterpiece “The statue of David”? Maybe one day, but for now, I’m just chippin’ away at a chunk of stone.
Over the period of time that I wasn’t writing, I was back home in Duluth, picking up shifts at my old job, and fucking around with my old friends. As fun as that is, and always has been, poppa is a rolling stone, and I was starting to feel mossy! I gassed up Tink, and we hit the road towards St. Louis, MO. It isn’t far enough south to escape the cold temperatures completely, but I have family here, and a roof over my head while I figure out my next move.
From Duluth to St. Louis, is about a 10 hour drive, with a couple different route options. I’ve taken this trip about 10 times since I was a small child, however, I have always taken the same route. Timewise, both routes are similar, except the route we took didn’t include driving through Iowa. Come to think of it, I’ve avoided Iowa, and as much of the rural midwestern states, along with their lack of scenery as much as possible on previous road trips. Maybe that’s why my journey has kept me here for so long this time around. I’ll say it for the first time… by anyone… ever…. Iowa was calling me!
Farmland sunsets are actually pretty dope! Because there isn’t anything cool in the way, you’re able to take in every shifting blue and yellow hue painting the sky, as you coast through dead corn fields, old red barns, and waves of noxious, cow fart clouds. I also enjoyed just being able to drive and let my mind wander. Most of my novel writing lately has been brainstorming and storyboarding, however I was really able to dig into some dialogue this trip. After about 5 hours of drifting, and letting the voices in my head have a chat or two, I landed in the tiny river town of Mcgregor, Iowa.
I found this town with a population of 900, nestled beside the mighty mississippi river, via the ioverlander app. I searched for a place to park for the night, somewhere around the halfway point to St. Louis. I chose a 72 hour parking lot, a half of a block from main street, Mcgregor. I pulled into town late saturday night, parked, and hit the town.
While the good majority of the town was aged 50+, and probably never left, I connected with a surprisingly large amount of travelers that had settled there for various reasons, Most of them were chasing a fella, and stayed in love with the town after they fell out of love with the boy. This was Joy. Joy was a 62 year old jewelry maker, who moved here from seattle, and you know the rest of the story.
I met Joy at the Pocket City Pub. I was just finishing up a heart to heart with Chip. chip was a random old man who felt comfortable enough to share his life story with me. I attract that sort of element quite often, actually. I’m not sure why, but if someone is ready to spill intimate details of their life with a perfect stranger at the bar, they probably just need to be heard, so I hear you! On occasion, I run into people that are just wasted, or lack healthy boundaries, but you take the good with the bad.
Pocket City had their halloween party that night, and joy was dressed as a butterfly. She fluttered to the stool next to mine and started sharing the finer details of her life in Mcgregor. Everything is cool, we’re having a good time, to be honest though, the 5 cute, and like-aged pre-school teachers in the opposite corner of the bar seem like a lot more fun.
Whatever, I’m here talking to Joy. I’ve got 3 reasons to stay where I am…
A) It’d be super rude to just walk away mid conversation to talk to a different set of complete strangers. especially given the fact that she suggested that I “should go talk to those younger girls” and called herself an “old lady”, when she’d catch me gazing off into the distance; longing to play with some kids my age. The Guilt trip has been applied
2)In a similar fashion to Chip, the gentleman I was talking too earlier, Joy was spilling her guts about her failed relationship, victimizing herself more and more, as the story unfolds. What if she needs help?
And…. D) Who am I hitch? The scenario is just too perfect for me to know how to approach that situation. Picture it; a group of attractive females, committed to getting loose, and forgetting about the past week of wiping noses and dealing with helicopter parents to find me; a weary traveler in a dive bar for retirees, also in search of shenanigans. If I were sitting next to them already it’d be one thing. Having to walk across the room, I’d probably just end up hovering around awkwardly and laugh when everyone else does, until I stumbled my way into the conversation. That isn’t creepy at all!!!😒
The girls eventually leave, take my dreams with them, and Joy starts getting to work. Joy is fluttering around again, like the 62 year old butterfly that she is. As i’m sitting on my stool at the bar, Joy starts rubbing her old boobs on my back. If that’s not awkward enough, in a sort of color commentary, informs me of the fact that she is rubbing her tits on my back. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is how mad at myself I will be in the morning if I let myself get drunk enough to let this senior citizen take me down! No dis to Joy either, she was a cute 62, and if I were twice my own age I would’ve saw where the night could take us!
She didn’t take me down. NO, no, Joy had a more grandiose plan in mind. After picking up a few of the red flags Joy had been dropping throughout the night, it occured to me that Joy was a Gold Digger. She must have been under the illusion that because I’m an aimless wanderer, I must be pretty stable… haha… sike!! Perhaps it was the affluent flare of my track pants, hoody, and unkempt beard that made her see dollar signs. Anyways, Joy was looking for a sugar baby.
I guess she was too busy talking about getting dumped after two years of living off of the fella she came to town with, (I’m paraphrasing of course, but that was the jist of things.) to ask me what I do for a living. When I mentioned that I’m writing my FIRST novel, and was TRYING to get my blog off of the ground, her face went from intrigued and opportunistic, to confused and disappointed, as if she’d been hoodwinked! Honestly, I’m sure most of Joy’s confusion probably stemmed from not knowing what the fuck a blog is, but it was also due to the fact that i’m not the baby warbucks that she thought I was. That shit was hilarious in my mind!
Although I missed out on the whole teachers conference senario, it was entertaining watching the process of Joy grasping the fact that I’m a broke writer! I am nobody’s meal ticket, and joy wasn’t in need of shoulder to lean on. We are all writing our own novel that we call life, don’t judge covers.
Tune in next week for part 2 of… AS Mcgregor turn…
“the Muslim Sugar Baby”