“The Journal of Wall Grimm” Road Trip 2: Sombreros

May 21, 2013

We left Virginia Beach Sunday morning and it took us about 6 hours to make it to South of the Border in South Carolina.  We only made one stop on the way to have some lunch and stretch our legs.  Well, we make stops to switch drivers, and during that time, I have a cigarette because I’m smoking again.

The weather has been great, a little rain on and off, here and there, but nothing extreme, considering the major weather that’s been going on with tornados.  Some serious damage and even death in Oklahoma, children too, because I think I heard it hit a school, so that’s really sad.  Not sure if we want to drive through there and see the devastation.  Maybe we can help a little for some clean up though.

Anyway, so we traveled to South of the Border and we all got sombreros which I think basically means hat in Spanish, but the connotation is those big hats, so we got those, and we got maracas, and Patrick got a poncho kind of thing so he looked like Clint Eastwood.  Every now and then he’d whistle that music for that movie, I don’t know what movie it is.  One thing I did want that we didn’t get, though I know we all wanted, was margaritas.  We all wanted it, I know it, I could feel it, but no one mentioned it.  I just want to be able to go to a bar and have a good time, but I fucking can’t.  I don’t even know why I can’t at this point.  I feel like I could just go and have a few drinks like a normal person, and then the night would be done and then I’d move on.  But at detox they discouraged me against that kind of thinking, they said it’s not that easy.  And I don’t want to ask these guys if we could try it because I don’t want to concern them.  I don’t know, I’ll hold out a little longer.

Anyway, while we were at South of the Border, we went to the arcade, went on the bumper cars, went to the reptile lagoon, but I don’t like to see animals in captivity so we didn’t last long there, and we went up the Sombrero Tower, like Dahl’s “The Great Glass Elevator” that’s what I was thinking of.  It was kind of scary 200 feet up, I didn’t realize I had a fear of heights.

We stayed a few hours, and left by 5pm then made it down to Savannah, Georgia by 9 I think.  We booked a room at Travelodge for about $50, went into town and walked around for about an hour, then went back to the room.  Savannah I guess is supposed to be the most beautiful town in the country.  It is beautiful, I’ll go along with that.  The fountains and trees, and buildings, the water.  Damn.  And you can feel the ghosts of the past, hear echoes of the history, and the history is still a part of the present every where you look and in the eyes of all the people you see.

We decided to stay there a second night and this morning we’re going to leave for Florida.  We crashed Sunday night after our walk, one of us had bad gas from the Mexican food, but no one was fessing up to it.  I know it wasn’t me.  Well maybe I contributed.  But some of that smell was not mine.  It was probably a combination of all of us.  It was a smell like rotten burritos.  I’d go outside for a smoke, then go back in the room and it was like someone set a fucking stink bomb off in there.  The kind of smell you can taste.  Guess it makes the meal worth the money since you get to taste it twice.

In Savannah yesterday, we decided we didn’t want to do anything that required money, like any of the touristy things, because the town was so nice, we just wanted to relax and walk around and take it all in.  We went swimming too in the pool at the hotel though.  At one point Hasty and Pete went out to buy some food to travel with, and get a quick dinner from the supermarket, so we didn’t have to spend all our money on going out to eat all the time.  That left me alone with Patrick.  We’ve never spent much time alone before.  We just kind of vegged on the beds and watched tv, taking a break.

We weren’t talking I think because we were both in kind of a zone, then as I started to drift off, Patrick said, “So…”

I woke, adjusted myself to be propped higher on my pillow and said, “yeah, hey.”

He looked at me and said, “can I ask you something?”  Yep, said I.  Then he said, “Pete…”

“What about Pete?”


“Pete likes you, is that what you want to know.”

“Yeah.  It feels that way when we’re together.  But the second he’s gone I have doubts.  I don’t know why.”

“Pete’s inexperienced, you have to take the lead.  He’s definitely up for it.  I think he’s waiting for you.”

“Well, I sensed that, but you know I just don’t want to be one of those guys.”

“What guys?”

“Well the moment someone comes out or begins to be open about their sexuality, there are these guys that come in and try to be the one to break you in.”

“They flock to the virgin, huh?”

He laughed and nodded and I told him that Pete wouldn’t think he was like that, because he’s a good guy, and he’s genuine.  I told him that next time two of us stay behind from a food run, I’ll take Hasty, so they can have some time to talk.  Because they were hanging out alone while I was “missing” or in detox, but that was just getting to know each other.  Now they’re going to be together for however long during this journey, time to progress.

We talked some more and he told me about how young he was when he knew he was gay and how he managed to survive life being openly gay, at times needing to hide it.  It’s like an intuition and always trying to pick up on cues prior to any situation or any person you’re with to determine if you can truly be yourself or if you need to be guarded to some degree.  Guarded not from shame, but sometimes because of safety, or sometimes just to avoid hostility or judgment.  He asked me questions about myself, then commented repeatedly about how vague my answers were and that he learned nothing about me.  I said I speak a different language and he had to wear his sombrero to understand me.  It didn’t work.

Then we thought it would be funny if Hasty and Pete returned to an unusual situation.  I put on my pirate costume and he wore the sombrero and the poncho.  We found a country music station, we grabbed the maracas and the station began to play, of all songs, “Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band.  Not the greatest song to dance around to, or even sing to for that matter, but we made the best of it.

They walked in and were laughing so hard, Pete started videoing he was going to put it on fb.  Then they just joined in.  It was kind of Monty Python.  I enjoy the ridiculous.  Helps to distract me from drugs.


previous Grimm Road Trip 1: Avast Ye Mateys! http://wp.me/p41c99-eu

next Grimm Road Trip 3: St. Augustine http://wp.me/p41c99-eP

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Patrick is based on himself at http://phintly.wordpress.com/ and Hasty is based on herself from http://hastywords.wordpress.com/

Categories: ROAD TRIP JOURNAL | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Post navigation

2 thoughts on ““The Journal of Wall Grimm” Road Trip 2: Sombreros

  1. Stay strong, Val!


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: