Doty ran down the stairs obsessively. She refused to let her father see her like this. Mascara combined with a teardrop thrusting ink down toward her nostril. She began to internalize the fact that Kevin would not survive if she told her Dad the truth. She could not let it come to that. Sometimes the only way out was escape. Dissidence. To become numb. She decided to leave right than and there. She wouldn’t write and she wouldn’t call. Everybody would wonder what the fuck happened to her. And it wasn’t what she wanted. But she didn’t know what else to do. She saw a billboard off the freeway with a picture of Rio de Janeiro.
“Brazil is too intense,” She thought. “But maybe I can escape to Ecuador. Or Macchu Picchu. Maybe meet a holy man who can instruct me. I’m not looking for the answers here.”
She wanted to go somewhere where her dollars could stretch. Somewhere she wouldn’t have to bring a suitcase, where she could get what she needed there. She took the sock out of her drawer, the one with green and blue stripes where she kept her tip money from the Taverna.
“What am I going to tell Henry?” She thought out loud to herself. Then halted. Henry was a good boss at the Greek restaurant where she worked. Anytime she wanted time off, she got it without question. Even so, she grabbed the money and ran out the door. It seemed like the farther she got from the house the faster she ran. She had never flown like this before, not even in dreams. For a split second she thought about trying out for the Olympics.
“There’s no way they sprint this fast,” she thought to herself in a moment of delusion which actually was a psychological way of gaining relief, “maybe this time I could win something.” The fog zapped her eyes opened wide as she ducked down double skipping languidly down the subway steps. She didn’t pay for a ticket but lept over the red traingular doors and down more stairs into the open arms of the subway. Once in, those doors could not close fast enough. And when they opened 22 minutes later, she sprinted up staircases out of breath but determined.
“They’re never going to see me again, nor I them,” she thought as she clutched her quickly beating heart, seemingly moonlighting as a metronome for a doubletime section in a heavy metal song. For about 5 seconds she felt alright, before her gastrocnemius muscle began to ache. She frowned as she remembered the good ol’ days of her youth where she could run without stretching for miles on end and never find an ache. She glided into a silently hypnotic walk and quickly leaped over the double doors where her nonexistent ticket was supposed to open them for her. One more flight of stairs and she would be at the airport.
By the time she got to the first terminal she was limping. She did not want to go anywhere domestic and kept right on. She found Aero Peru, and waited in line at the counter.
“How much for a one way ticket to Lima?”
“Leaving today?”
“Yes, next flight.”
She’d never flown this way. Every time she vacationed in the past was a rehearsed affair. Hours online searching for the best faire for air tickets and hotels. Everything weeks in advance. She knew the price for her desperation would be steep. Somebody had referred her both to Aero Mexico and Spirit Airlines. Spirit was cheaper but would charge her a lot for her luggage so she opted with Aero Mexico. Perhaps she’d be intercepted with a layover somewhere exotic that would catch her fancy.
“878 dollars,” Said the overworked ticket agent. The woman looked like she hadn’t slept in days. The price was high but Doty didn’t care at this point. She actually took masochistic pleasure in overpaying as she felt it would cosmically guarantee her good luck. She put the money in cash on the counter and grabbed her ticket after the agent checked her passport, counted the money and printed her passes. She passed a homeless man sitting on a chair, dozed off. Taking out her Iphone and placing it next to the man, she thought,
“I won’t be needing this.”
Then she made her way into security. She stoically parted with her shoes and walked on through the line quicker then all the people with luggage to put through the x ray machine. The security guard robotically waved his wand back and forth over her body in a fantastically bored routine, and she made it through security in record time.
Her flight was on time, and she boarded within an hour. After 2 melatonin pills she was out cold.
“Even dreams we don’t remember still affect us.” She awoke to the voice of what sounded like a Doctor. He sat in the seat in back of her. She peered through a crack in the seat so she could catch a glance of his face. She wondered what he was talking about. All she could make out without directly looking back was the visage of a wise older man with a white beard and glasses.
“How do they affect us?” A woman sitting next to him asked.
“The subconscious remembers everything. Even things we think can’t be heard are heard. And the unseen is made seen. A smile out of the corner of one’s eye, a frown from the nurse in the operating room.” He sounded like one of her old college professors.
Doty opened the window. It was not light outside, but getting there. She was anxious with the anticipation of landing somewhere new, but it wasn’t the same excitement she had known before upon embarking to foreign lands. She wasn’t “getting off” on ecstatic emotions, so much as logically trying to engage her mind in what best to do next. She estimated, without looking at the flight map, that they were just about half way through the flight, midway between LA and MacchuPicchu. Peering over to the map, she noted they were currently flying over Mexico. She pondered whether she should have gone so Cancun to check out the Aztec ruins, but soon reassured herself that she would not be far away from there and the option would still be open.
Chapter 2
apples falling from trees:
Seargent Gary Friday finished his first cup of coffee as he waited to board the plane to Cusco. From Lima it would be a rapid flight, a little over an hour. From there it was a puddle jumper to Puerto Maldonado. How they were going to get from there to a cabin in the middle of the jungle was anyone’s guess.
He had done this trip dozens of times before. He had his international certificate of vaccination ready next to his passport just in case. Usually he carried his Samsonite Delegate trusty briefcase but opted instead for a handicraft wool shoulder bag that he had bought at one of the souvenir shops near Macchu Pichu on his last visit. His job entailed that he either had to dress up or dress down, depending on the locale of his work. In this situation he wore blue jeans and black new balance running shoes that he took the logo off of, and a plain off white all cotton button down shirt that he got in Kathmandu. He noticed that dressing down took about the same amount of time as dressing up. Either way he felt like an actor preparing for a role. But this time would be different because of the costar: Juan Santiago the medicine man.
That was who Gary was expecting to meet up with. The man was an enigma. He had succeeded in eluding himself from any authorities of the western world who emitted any sort of vibe that had to do with modernism. That is why Gary was the chosen one. Because he possessed virtues that nobody else on the team had. Well, at least not in the amounts that he did. Namely, integrity.
Gary believed that without integrity life couldn’t work. He had experimented on himself in his own life. Breaking his own moral codes periodically just to see what would happen, as if he could measure hypothesis after hypothesis through witnessing what worked and what didn’t. This next project was not settling easily in his brain. Hadn’t he already earned his stripes in his 25 years of active duty? What exactly did they want him to find out about this old medicine man? That’s what confused him more then anything. It seemed like a silly mission. But he always obeyed the orders of his superiors, even when finding out the whole point of the matter seemed like it would take a very long time to figure out.
Try as he may he had a hard time coming to terms with the ambiguity of the duty set before him. He would be recording every nuance, all conversations, and going over it with a fine tooth comb. He made a vow to himself that after retirement, he would go back on to this land without any electrical devices on his person. But for now, he had a job to do. Finishing the thick tar like coffee that he had bought on the side of the road 30 minutes earlier, he tossed the cup into the small trash can and boarded the plane. He knew that drinking the coffee hadn’t been the wisest idea. It probably would have been more advantageous for him to skip the caffeine and sleep on the short flight. But the caffeine had become part of his ritual. Not an addiction as much as a comfort. He leaned back into his chair and thought about his children. They weren’t children any more. His youngest was in his 20s, already a force in the rock and roll world to be reckoned with. It was surreal the heights to which he had achieved so at so young an age. He was proud of his son but they maintained an ambivalent relationship. There was respect, but too much pride on both sides to really bond. And where was the time? “Maybe after I retire,” he thought to himself, “I’ll see them more often.”
The flight was over before it began, and Juan Santiago met Gary Friday right as he was coming off of the plane. The medicine man nodded at him unceremoniously and motioned for Gary to follow him. Usually in the past, his hosts had been much warmer to him. What was happening here? Now Gary began to wonder how they were going to be getting to the cabin, which was supposedly about 25 miles away.
“Do I have to change out my money so I can pay for a cab?” He thought. The medicine man grunted softly and shook his head. Gary figured maybe they were going to take motorcycles. He had done that before, several years back, when he was much younger. He was shocked at the callousness and disregard of his almost senior citizen status. Of course at the time, he scarcely considered the fact that Juan was just about the same age as he was, give or take a year or two.
To the north of the airport was a dirt road that stretched out towards the mountains. The sun was at an apex and was beginning to beat down on them. “So now are we gonna jump on some motorcycles or what?’ asked Gary toughly.
“We walk,” grumbled Juan incredulously. “Time to cleanse out the toxic poisons you have been building up. Only one way to do that: sweat.” Seargent Friday stopped dead in his tracks.
“Wait just a minute now, sir. Hiking a marathon through Peruvian wild lands is not in my job description.” Juan Santiago held a finger to his lips.
“Silencio- silence.”
“I know what the hell silencio means. I’m fluent in spanish,along with six other languages in case they haven’t told you.”
Sargent Friday was glad he had brought plenty of water and packed lightly. But he still felt undignified over this long walk. “The hell do they think I am?” He thought to himself. His thoughts were bursting with anger, like screams of injustice taking over his whole body. “After nearly 3 decades of service this is what they give me? I thought I was in for some kind of transformational journey. Instead they give me some gap toothed lunatic. The head case in charge of the asylum.”
The medicine man interrupted his thoughts. “You’re murdering me with your thinking, aren’t you? Start to breath your hatred out like this.” He began breathing slowly and very loudly, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. Then he covered one nostril with his index finger and proceeded with the exercise, eventually switching nostrils. He noticed that Sargent Friday was not following the rules refusing to participate in something he felt had nothing to do with what he needed to get. “So I suppose you already have everything figured out. You don’t need to learn from me, or anyone else for that matter. No wonder you look so confused.”
With that, Gary put his finger over his mouth and said, ‘Shhhh, silencio.” Then, “see, I listen better then you thought, DON’T I?
The medicine man didn’t speak for a while. Neither did Gary Friday. In different circumstances, he would have been entranced by the beauty of this region. But this project was not off to a productive start. Besides feeling oppressed by his host, he felt bitter about the progressive americanization of a country he had once loved escaping to. It was more convenient now. There were trains up to tourist sights that used to be attainable by hard core trekking or uneasy bus trips. He even noticed that his old favorite Cafe in Cusco, ayullo de cusco, had been replaced by Starbucks. He had decided to buy that tar like coffee on the side of the road instead of going to Starbucks. Was it selfish of him to want a place to escape to? He wondered what the medicine man thought about it. ‘Maybe he’s taking the anger of my whole race out on me,’ he thought to himself. And than stoically admitted to himself “Can’t really blame him for that.”
Several minutes went by and there was a continual hush.The medicine man kept walking in silence. He let Gary think. The only thing that could be heard were footsteps and labored breathing. Then a few minutes later he spoke again.
‘Thing is, your people have finally come as far as they could reach with their machines. Yet it solved nothing. How is it to live among a culture of digitized robots? So now, more people then ever are coming for the resources that lie in two places.’ He put his right hand over his heart, and then covered his head with his left. ‘You can have all the money in the world, but if you haven’t learned the ways of the heart, the ways of the mind, you are more poor then the poorest beggar in the land.’
Gary nodded his head in agreement. ‘I hear what you are saying. I apologize for the ignorance of my people. But I can only apologize so much.’
Juan continued. ‘I learned the ways of the world. Your people put me through their schools. Some considered me a techno shaman. Because I am adept at both worlds. The ancient and the modern. Both have not eluded me. There are things I may choose to show you that will make you stronger. But I do not trust you yet. I had a friend from the west who taught me the phrase, ‘respect is earned.’ He did not earn it from me. Nor have you. I will teach you some things. But I will pull away if I feel trust wanting.’
Gary felt a knot of disapointment churning in his stomach. ‘Did we not have the agreement to complete initiation? The d ritual? Did you forget your promise?” Sometimes Seargent Friday’s job description included getting really down to the nitty gritty of understanding cultures and reporting back what very few know.
Juan stomped a foot into the ground. ‘I said in good faith. This is what I told your masters. You do not want this experience without working for it first. It is up to you whether you will count the cost, and finish what you’ve started.’
Gary was livid internally but was not about to argue with Juan. “You’re angry because you don’t want to disappoint your superiors. You should have more fear for the great spirit if you were truly wise.”
He would save his anger for a telephone call to his superiors. He was beginning to hate this so called medicine man. What had he done to earn his derision? He had already renounced his old ways of materialism. Now he was risking his life to go out into the jungle with whom he was now past beginning to consider a half wit. He was not about to apologize for being reared in a callous culture- he had worked too hard to overcome the mistakes of his own people.
‘Don’t be a hypocrite. If you want me to respect where you came from you should respect what I’ve gone through to understand you, and to make reparations-‘
‘No more talking.’
‘Excuse me?’
With that, Juan pointed the opposite direction from where they were walking, to where the sun was beginning to set. He closed his eyes and searched for the words that he didn’t want to say but which burned his sould with necessity. “
GO back NOW, from where you came’ he firmly said.
‘Go What?’ He stammered, slightly shocked.
‘Go back to your land. This was a big misdeed on my part. I thought we had a better comprensivo, mutual understanding. I thought you were further advanced on the true path.’
Gary crossed his arms. They both stood their ground for a moment, staring into each other’s weather beaten faces. The fierce eye contact these men made with each other was strong, neither one giving over to yielding. Without breaking focus, Juan touched his shoulder, and said, ‘if you come, no more speaking until morning.’
Gary was even more livid but kept his composure. He had no choice at this point. There was a continually silent hush between Gary and the medicine man. Gary was lost in his angry thoughts. Somebody back home was in trouble for putting his ass on the line like this. Then the medicine man stopped in front of a small patch of Nicandra Physalodes, or ‘apple of peru’ flowers. He sniffed one of them. Then he looked up at Gary.
‘Your people have created a lot of change for us,’ he said, as if reading Gary’s mind. Gary nodded silently. He had nothing to add. He just wanted to listen to this man, trying desperately as possible to control his temper. ‘When I was a young man, your people began to come here seeking wisdom. Some of them found what they were looking for, and some of them didn’t.’ He paused for a second, and gazed across the mountains. ‘There has been damage done. But only a certain amount of damage. Our people will persevere. These mountains, too, will survive. I’m not certain I can say the same of your people. Unless they are truly willing and ready to change.”
Puerto Maldonado had been beautiful but Gary no longer noticed the beauty. He had not been in a ‘wild card’ situation for over a decade. He had been used to everything in it’s right place, with a certain order. His job had never been easy, but he was able to have complete control for the most part. He had never dealt with anyone like Juan before, and there had never been a problem with communication with anybody else on his peruvian journeys. Suddenly promises were being broken. Or had they been? Whose promises? after all, Juan had not directly given him his word about the ritual. Had there been a miscommunication between his superiors, himself, and the third party? Had he been lied to by his superiors? Or had Juan lied to him? There really was no way to know. He felt, for the first time in years, in over his head. He felt too old for this, and all of the sudden wished he hadn’t taken the assignment. But at the same time, he felt lost. The last time he felt this lost was as a teenager. The memories of broken youth began to flood his mind.
They got to their destination and Gary Friday was famished and too tired to think straight. The luxury of the place surprised him as he had expected less. He would have been happier with less comfort but also less surprises. Juan showed him to his cot, which was delicately decorated with blankets intricately woven into bright colors.
‘Sleep now. Do not say a word. You will eat in the morning.’
Gary did not want to argue, he just wanted to collapse. He fell down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. He soon fell into a dream. In his dreams, he kept being offered gifts that were already his. Gold was given to him that he had already possessed. Things that he had owned had been stolen. Material objects, money, things that he felt owed came back to him. He did not understand the dream.
He was awoken by Rosa, the guest worker. Gary did not know if the worker was somehow related to Juan. His daughter perhaps? She looked to be about twenty one. She placed a plate full of kinoa salad down on his night table, along with a fork and napkin. He sat up and thanked her. ‘Muchas Gracias, senora.’
‘Te nada. This is salad with qinoa,’ she said,’qinoa is a grain that makes you very strong. Our pollos grow muy gordo off this.’ She smiled. ‘also onions, peppers, y radishes.’
Gary was no stranger to this type of food. He had radically altered his diet years ago and was used to this sort of fare. This was one other reason why he was chosen for the job. Most of the other guys on the team were meat and potatoes consumers. They did not care for what they described as bird food. He dug in voraciously, eating like a ravenous boar. ‘Senora, no agua?’ He said to Rosa, making the signal for drinking.
She shook her head no.
‘que? no comprende.’
Juan who had gone unnoticed, was carving wood in the next room. His voice boomed.
‘There will be no drinking for you until two hours has gone by after you are finished.’ He paused. ‘It is for reasons of digestion. Don’t ask now – you will understand later.’
‘What the h-?’ he stopped himself. Now this was getting to be too much. Water deprivation? ‘So you’re feeding me like a fat chicken but no water?’
‘The water will upset your digestion, ‘ juan blurted it out. This will affect your brain, your training, as everything is connected. But since you think you know it all, and cannot bring yourself to dismiss your pride, you may have a glass of water. Rosa, por favor-‘
‘No Rosa. Forget it.’ He was not about to be manipulated into guilt for being thirsty of all things. He excused himself to use the bano. Only he didn’t have to use the restroom. He locked the door, and sitting down on the toilet, pulled out his cellphone. He dialed. Then he screamed.
‘Debon, what the HELL are you doing sending me out to this kangaroo court in the jungle?’ He tried his best to lower his voice but was bursting at the seams. The veins in his neck all but popped off. ‘Everything I do is dictated to me. I can’t take a piss without permission- i feel like I’m back in prep school.’
‘Do you choose to abort your mission?’
‘No. But I have never been thrown out to the goddamn wolves like this. How could you do this? I’m not 25 years old any more goddamn it.’
‘Come on Friday. You knew you were in for a challenge. How can you tell me that we didn’t educate you about the unpredictability of this tour?’
‘You always say it’s unpredictable. But you never told me I’d be with an SS general in medicine man makeup. I feel deceived.’
‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’
‘I’m going to give it one more day. If it gets much worse I’m hitching the next flight back.’ He closed his phone, flushed the toilet and washed his hands. Opening the door, Juan was standing at the other side. He glared into his eyes.
‘You cannot trust me, then I cannot trust you,’ Juan said to him. He genuinely looked hurt.
‘Were you listening to me?’
‘Stop talking and follow me. We are completing phase one of the mission. This will take about 77 minutes. Upon completion you may drink 2 cups of water if necessary.’
Gary was about to snidely, sarcastically thank him – but he bit his to ngue. Truth be told, he knew the old codger knew what he was doing. He just didn’t like to be told what to do so sternly, especially by someone who was around the same age, and as much as he would never admit it, not formally educated in the way he was.
‘You are a poised egoist, ‘ said Juan. ‘You make a show to the world. You want to be a big shot, a big humanitarian with books in libraries. Big star. You will never know anything until you become humble as the dust.’
‘Oh is that so?’
‘Yes.’
‘and so now, you’re trying to break me down. Right?’ He got loud. ‘Trying to crush the large yet fragile ego of a white man. Well, you’re doing a good job.’
‘Meester Big Shot, who do you think you are?’ Juan sang to himself.
They walked over to a side office that had a desk and a couch. Near the couch was a coffee table. Juan sat down at his desk and had Gary sit down on the couch. He slumped down, and noticed a black box with small controls on it. The box had no power source, but was connected via copper wire to a chrome plated piece of metal the size of a clipboard. He touched the knobs on the panel of the box. There were four knobs. Juan said nothing. In the right hand corner of the box there was a metal control switch. He began clicking it up and down, trying to figure out what it was.
‘What is this piece of junk?’ He said, looking up at Juan. Juan pulled out a notepad and began scribbling in it. ‘This makes no sense.’ He flipped it over to check for batteries or any alternate power source he could find. ‘How do you plug this in, and what is it for? I mean for god sakes, at least a solar panel, something.’
‘Please continue to play with the knobs. But as you do, visualize yourself floating into the sky. Close your eyes, please.’
Now he was certain he was being duped. Never had he seen what he would label as such absurd pseudo science. and his mind was opened to possibilities. But he would not be taken for a fool. ‘What the HECK are you talking to me about? are you trying to make me play the role of the idiot?’
“I am an idiot, we all are-idiots. Now do as I say.’ Gary Friday closed his eyes.
He decided to use this opportunity to rest. If he wasn’t going to have his expectations met, he just wouldn’t play ball. He figured he would pretend to, but his mind would be elsewhere. But the game just seemed to get stranger and stranger. Juan pulled out a medal helmet from under his desk. It had copper wires attached to it. Gary kept his eyes glued shut.
‘Keep your eyes just like that,’ coaxed Juan. He got up and put the helmet on Gavin’s skull. Then he pulled out the copper wires and ducktaped them to the chrome plate on the coffee table, that was also attached to the black box. Then he went and sat back down at his desk. ‘Think of somebody you love very much,’ he said matter of factly. Gary’s posture softened. He almost thought of his ex wife. Even though they had been divorced five years he still had a soft spot in his heart for her. ‘Now think of who you love the most.’ Gary hated to play favorites with his kids. But he chose Robert to concentrate on. He thought about the last time he saw him, having lunch with him at an elegant restaurant in santa monica. ‘Have you got a photograph of this person?’
Gary had become compliant. He pulled out a black and white print of his son that he had in his wallet. It was actually a band photo of jaw2jaw. He had ripped it out of a magazine. ‘Please place it on the chrome tray.’ Juan decided to match Gary’s newfound complacency with courtesy. It seemed to be working.
The picture at this point was absurd. Officer Gary Friday was sitting in a cabin in the jungle of peru, a mad medicine man placing a helmet on his head that was connected to a black box and chrome tray with no power supply. But Gary’s resistance had been overcome.
He drifted into flashbacks. The terrible times he had in his youth. They had prepared him for his rough career but that didn’t mean he wanted to revisit old memories. Who was controlling him like this? Was the fake black box connected to nothing but a helmet on his head and a chrome plate actually working?
Juan began to stroke his chin and psychically give himself a pat on the back for hard work done. It hadn’t been easy to subjugate this brainwashed egomaniac. But this medicine man was determined to change the world, by the psychic transformation of one asshole at a time.
“My Dad was an asshole,” mumbled Seargent Friday.
“What is your people’s expression?” Lamented Juan, “The papaya doesn’t fall far from the tree?”
His father had been a hard boiled SOB. Sent him off to military prep school at the age of fourteen. It was fine with him at the time. He could go through the motions and draw on his own time. His dream job had been to become an architect. He planned to persue this as soon as it was time for college. But as some a certain beatle said before, ‘life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’ He never dreamed of what could happen next.
one percent.
The medicine man kept walking in silence. He let Gary think. The only thing that could be heard were footsteps and labored breathing. Then a few minutes later he spoke again.
‘Thing is, your people have finally come as far as they can with machines. Yet it solved nothing. So now, more people then ever are coming for the resources that lie in two places.’ He put his right hand over his heart, and then covered his head with his left. ‘You can have all the money in the world, but if you haven’t learned the ways of the heart, the ways of the mind, you are more poor then the poorest beggar in lima.’
Gary nodded his head in agreement. ‘I hear what you are saying. I apologize for the ignorance of my people. But I can only apologize so much.’
Juan continued. ‘I learned the ways of the world. Your people put me through their schools. Some considered me a techno shaman. Because I am adept at both worlds. The ancient and the modern. Both have not eluded me. There are things I may choose to show you that will make you stronger. But I do not trust you yet. I had a friend from the west who taught me the phrase, ‘respect is earned.’ He did not earn it from me. Nor have you. I will teach you somethings. But I will pull away if I feel integrity waning.’
Gary felt a knot of dissapointment churning in his stomach. ‘Did we not have the agreement to complete initiation? The mimosahuasca ritual? Did you forget your promise?’
Juan stomped a foot into the ground. ‘I said in good faith. This is what I told your masters. You do not want this experience without working for it first. It is up to you whether you will count the cost, and finish what you’ve started.’
Gary was livid internally but was not about to argue with Juan. He would save his anger for a telephone call to his superiors. He was beginning to hate this so called medicine man. What had he done to earn his derision? He had already renounced his old ways of materialism. Now he was risking his life to go out into the jungle with whom he was now beginning to consider a half wit. He was not about to apologize for being reared in a callous culture- he had worked too hard to overcome the mistakes of his own people.
‘Don’t be a hypocrite. If you want me to respect where you came from you should respect what I’ve gone through to understand you, and to make reparations-‘
‘No more talking.’
‘Excuse me?’
With that, Juan pointed the opposite direction from where they were walking, to where the sun was beginning to set. ‘GO BaCK NOW,’ he firmly said.
‘What?’
‘Go back to your land. This was a big misdeed on my part. I thought we had a better comprensivo. I thought you were further advanced on the true path.’
Gary crossed his arms. They both stood their ground for a moment, staring into each other’s weather beaten faces. The fierce eye contact these men made with each other was strong, neither one giving over to yielding. Without breaking focus, Juan touched his shoulder, and said, ‘if you come, no more speaking until morning.’
Gary was even more livid but kept his composure. He had no choice at this point.
Chapter 3
I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THE EMAIL. IT ARRIVED WITH THE ITINERARY. EMIRATES AIRLINES. THE COLOR CODED LINES WITH FLIGHT NUMBERS, ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE TIMES AND MY NAME JOSEPH TANJI GAVE ME A RUSH. BUT WAS IT CONFIRMED? YES. SEE THERE ON THE RIGHT. IT SAYS IT. “CONFIRMED.” I SHAKE MY HEAD IN DISBELIEF. IT DOESN’T EVEN SEEM REAL – REALLY, I’LL BELIEVE IT WHEN I’M ON THE PLANE IN TWO DAYS. WHAT WILL I EVEN DO IN TWO DAYS? PACK? BUY STUFF I NEED TO BRING WITH ME? ALL I REALLY NEED IS ONE OF THOSE TRAVEL WALLETS TO STASH MY PASSPORT AND MONEY IN. I’M NOT GONNA GET SHOTS. FUCK THAT- THOSE HURT MORE THAN PROTECT.
So it was happening . No more stops and starts. In wo days from today, i’d be up in the clouds. I started punching the aire in elation before falling back onto my bed and staring at the celing. It had been a long time since I had gone anywhere exciting. I was ready. “I’m gonna travel light,” I thought. More luggage more problems. Every one would call me crazy. “all you’re bringing is one backpack? I could’t live without my stuff!” The way I saw it, clothes were affordable in India- so was anything else you may need : toothpaste,shampoo. Hell, I don’t even need shampoo. I’d probably just shave my head. It was happening! But first there was someone very important I needed to call.
“Mom, I’m going. To India.”
“Congratulations, that’s great. I knew you were waiting on the that Visa.” She gave her motherly advi ce about being careful. My mind jumped ahead to a few things I needd to do. Like get a wallet/ passport holder at some sporting goods store where of course the salesman would upsell me on a portable water filter which eventually would become more of a paper weight as I couldn’t contemplate carrying it around with me to restaurants and the like. More tasks to complete: tennis and packing.
On the day of the flight my brother dropped me at third and heatherton from where I could get a golden gate transit to SF than take Bart to SFO. With just a backpack who knew I was even enroute to India?
My flight was at 445 and it was before noon. I had hours to kill. I promptly got into the Emirate line. I soon noticed a chaplinesque man of middle east descent, setting down a rugged suitcase in front of two men with turbans. Next thing I know he was gone. Than I see him standing with some other dude out side talking on his cell phone.
“what the hell is he doing”
He comes back and puts his suitcase over the line. It’s than right in back of me. Is it gonna blow up? Than he comes and stands by his bag right in back of me as if he had been there the whole time. The mild mannered crowd presented nobody inclined to do anything about this situation. Some looked slightly perturbed but not enought to actually do anything about it. I reckon to myself that security had relaxed latley. a few years ago if he’d left that bag unattended he’d have been arrsted. Now the TSa was too busy confiscating bottled water, toothpaste, and old laidies bras. I contemplated making a scene but opted instead to push headphones in my ear to hear Joe Strummer’s jolly vitriol vi combat rocks’atom tan in my ear. “The state office looked, it looked like hollywood- without make up bleeding- all over the cracks……”
The line went fast. Much faster than I’d expected actually. The music stopped. Because I had to put my phone through security screening. along w my belt, wallet, etc. and walk through biometrcis, waving arms in the air, getting the ok etc. Pretty soon it was 1 pm. I still had 3 and a half hours to kill and I was checked in already. I walked down the moving sidewalk trying to get past the crowds of people with their excess luggage. I thought about henry rollins spoken word speeche where he talks about people getting in the way on those things. It dawned on me that even though I had packed lightId be dodging around a lof of people who had not. If only others would follow my lead!
Soon I got near my gate and checked in my pocket for the bording passes. Before stuffing them into my wallet i gave them a quick glance to make sure I was going in the right direction. I’d be leaving at 445 pm and arriving 720 the next night in Dubai- than onto a 2 and a half hour layover before flying to Rajiv Ghandi airport arriving the followong morning around 3 am. I wondered what i’d be doing at 3 am. I’d received an email that a mr. Soupreet would be picking me up at 6 am. I doubted that it would take mre than an hour to recieve the guitar I’d checked.
at that point it didn’t really matter. I was getting out of the rat race. Or was I exchanging one for the other? Hard to say t this point. all i knew was now I was at the right gate, 3 hours early, and bloody tired. I closed my eyes and drifteed off to sleep. My thoughts turned to a previous trip to india it was years earlier when i was 19 years old. I rememberarriving in such a different kind of land which such a shock to the system that it served as an infrmal altered state and delivered me from a world of worries which had dogged my teenage brain. at the same time i was so young. Even though I was in a world of hope I was also had a hunger. My taste of chai for the first time in the cavern hafl way between chennai and pondicherri was just hot enought to where it didn’t burn my toungue yet i still had to sip slowly. The inneepers nodded with otherworldy politeness as an in american in my caravan explained that odd as it was, it would be common to have hot drinks in the hundred degree weather, somehow evening out the body temperature. I loved the taste of the chai and didn’t care that it was creating beads of sweat that were so dense that they poured off of me like rain drops onto the earthen ground.
“Section G, section G, please get ready to board.” I opened my eyes and pulled my ticket out. I was section F – I quickly bolted up and threw on my backpack. There was a throng of people in what was supposed to be a line. The elite 1st classes had already boarded leaving the anxious stragglers coljoing to get in. I figured the plane would be leaving at the same time and didn’t try too hard to get head. Children were throwing tantrums along with their baby siblings who were crying. I knew it was going to be a long journey but I didn’t nind.
I MERRILY CLIMBED ABOARD THE 777. THE PILOT GREETED ME AND A PRETTY SLOVENIAN STEWARDESS WEARING A RED CAP (ALL THE STEWARDESS WORE THESE) POINTED ME TOWRDS THE ISLE I WAS TO WALK DOWN. I MADE MY WAY THROUGH FIRST CLASS WHERE THE HAPY ELITE STRETCHED OUT THEIR LEGS, LAZILY LOUNGING ABOUT WITH LAPTOPS. ONE ALREADY WAS FALLING ASLEEP WITH HIS EYEPILLOW CLUMSILY ATTACHED TO HIS FACE, LOUDLY SNORING AND BLISSFULLY OBLIVOUS OF THE OTHER PASSENGERS.
When i came to my isle who wa sitting on the seat next to mine but the chaplinesque line hopper. While his attributes were definitely attributatble to the aforementioned silent era film star, he also shared a likelihood to john turturro with a tan. He flipped his newspaper anxiously and pretended not to notice me from the check in line.
“hello sir, I believe I’m stting here. “
Without looking at me he got up and stepped in back of me, waited for me to sit, than went back to his newspapers. I wanted to ask him why he was in such a rush earlier where we had plenty of time for his flight but I was too distraced by the blonde stewardess in a british accent who brushed by me, her cute butt colliding with my elbow. I was happy to see a small sack with a zipper full of goodies waiting for me on my seat, along with a wimply pillow and some kind of scarf blanket given to keep us warm from the artificial frigidity that would soon be blowing down us via plastic sea anenome looking a/c portals.
How lovely to peek inside and snatch the contents within the little bag! a cool little toothbrush, with toothpaste in a tubular container, eyepillow, and a few other chachkes.
as a kid was moaning loudly to his mother I wondered why they didn’t include earplugs in the kit as well. Or perhaps earmuffs the likeness of what you use to shield your ears at a shooting range!
Well at least I had my clash mp3 uploaded. I could pump up the volume to hear joe strummer screaming at me louder than anybody. I know i was supposed to be listening to the airline safey presentation but instead my ears were basking in the sweet sensation of “white man at hammersmith palais.” The blonde stewardess wearily snapped her fake seat belts in the aire all the while probably dreaming of her last orgasm or martini in london, whichever was strongerst on her mind. I had a quick fantastical thought that maybe she could accompany me to a bar at dubai airport and keep me company between flights? Could not hurt to ask. Of course I knew she was probably hit on by at least half a dozen guys per flight so my brain began to scan for a fresh appeal. Soon we were off into the sky and the once loud baby was snoring peacefully, no, blissfully in mommy’s arms. as blondie came by slinging a pack of nuts I asked her wheterher she was in SF often.
“all the time, but usually all I have time for s to sleep.”
She flashed an 18 carrat diamond ring into my face quickly and uninvasively as possible keeping her
Than she resumed slogging her peanuts up and down the aisle.
Charlie Turturro Chaplin turned to me.
“Good try,” he said, eyes beaming. Than he leaned into me conspiratorially.
“Just because there is a goalie, no mean you can’t score.”
“Thanks man, I don’t go for married women. I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Zydstra.” He said, firmly shaking my hand. “But you just call me Syd.” I let a moment slip by, than I felt courage grab me by the balls.
“So why, when we were in line,”I said,”were you in such a rush?”
“I wasn’t in A rush, as you say.”
“But you jumped the line, putting your bags down, hopping around, cutting cures, etc.” He flashed a smile.
“It was a bet.”
“Yeah?” I was confused/ intrigued.
“I bet my brother. He’s to afraid to fly. He says because we’re foreigners, we could get detained anytime. But I fly all the time. We run import/ export business. I had to prove my point! He said ‘ever if you put down your bag they will think it’s a bomb..’ So what did I do? I put down the bags and watched with my fearful but lovely brother for five minutes. So I won the bet and he gave me a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand dollars? And that wasn’t good enough? You still had to jump the cue?” I replied.
“Well that – I was just showing off at that point. You no have older brother? He’s my older brother so I like to impress him. I said, ‘watch this, my brother, I’m going to cut the line!’ and he said, ‘no you are not!’ ‘yes I am, too,’ I said, ‘And, if I get away with it , you’re going to Dubai for our next meeting of business, and I’m staying right in burlingame with my wife.’ So guess who will be on this flight next month!”
“So I take it you don’t like to fly?”
“Are you kidding? Trapped in like sardines here like this? Every month moving across hemispheres?”
“But don’t you think it’s fun to travel?”
“Why do I need to travel? I have everything I need in my United States. I have my Costco club card, my Mcdonalds, my movie theater and bowling alley. I have no need of travel anymore.” Than he looked over at the pretty brit on the peanut slog. “I did like it when I was younger for purposes of……” He pointed over towards blondie and than back over to the hot Slovenian who was on the other end of the aisle. “But now I am married! And as your brilliant hollywood star Mr. Paul Newman said about his wife, ‘why go out for the burgers when I have the steak here at home?’ I love my wife! I don’t look forward to being away from home.”
“Why don’t you bring her with?”
“She takes care of the kids! Plus she no like to travel either!”
It all seemed so crazy to me. I was always wanted to get the fuck out of here, so somewhere new. All this guy wanted to do was stay within his 5 mile radius! Different strokes for different folks, I guess.
“The thing about getting older,” He said, “is you begin to love routine. Everything in it’s place. In fact, always at this time, on this particular flight,” he peered at his watch, “I take a nap. I nap 2 hours, Than I watch 1 movie. Than I eat. Than we can talk for 20 minutes if you are up. Than I watch another movie.”
“You’re pretty organized. I’m getting pretty tired- I think I’m gonna nap some myself.” But he beat me to the punch. I couldn’t tell if he was faking it or not,but by the time I looked back over at him, he had an eye pillow strapped to his face and was already snoring. I had never in my life seen anyone go to sleep that fast. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but thoughts ran back to my meeting with Ravi.
I thought about my friend, the unapologetic Maharjah, his majesty, the Mikado, mogul monarch, and my new overlord the sovereign sultan of swing Ramesh Ravi Rarankar. The guy who starred in cricket games through college yet was still able to make time for straight A’s and Karaoke. We had become fast friends in our teens in the early 90’s – our earnest yet smart ass senses of humor, our equal interests in philosophy, political science and international affairs drew us together like curry on rice.
I had come over as a volunteer for a three week campaign to plant trees and tidy up villages in Tamil Nadu as an act of goodwill partially and partially as an act of “I wanted to get the heck out of where I was,” a similar sentiment to the way I had feeling about things right now! He had since than earned a master’s degree and was the CEO of an Application Development Company based out of Hyderabad. I was still chasing girls and banging on my guitar. From what I’d gathered, he’d been keeping up on my song releases and blog entries. He felt I may have something to offer his company in the form of marketing, advertising, maybe even writing jingles. At least that was what I had gathered from our initial phone conversation.
“Tomorrow I’ll be passing through Los Angeles on my way to Las Vegas, I’ll have a couple hours if you’d like, we could meet for a drink or two at the Sheraton.”
“Of course,” I said, “I’ll be there.” I was excited. Not only was Ravi successful but he was my friend from way back. I had known him for two decades and felt eager to catch up. It had been a while since I’ve seen him, or even talked to him for that matter. I was looking forward to catching up with him. I got off the bus, and walked a few blocks down Sepulveda Blvd. We were so close to the airport that the planes were flying low enough to the ground to where you were praying they’d be ok. And there he was- like a regal sultan in a button down shirt with a briefcase. He motioned me to a table by the bar and sat me down.
“You want a beer?”
“Guinness,” I said.
“So predictable you frickin Irish Leprecaun.” Than to the bartender, “Guinness and Sierra.” He sat down at the chair across from me. “I’d love to tell you that this meeting is being composed because of my need to soak in your American charm and healthy wit. While that’s only partially true, if I didn’t actually like you as a person, I wouldn’t inquire about hiring you and having you on on our team, Joe.”
“Hiring me?”
“Well, based on a contingency…..”
“What does that mean?”
“”The company I work for, or shall I say, run…..is not getting any smaller. There is great demand for men of your persuasion who have a certain command over the western vernacular. We have a lot of of web applications that we are and will be developing with business partners here in the states. And not just here, Clients all over the western hemisphere, Europe, etc.”
The bartender put down our beers. We each took sips of ours and than he continued.
“ A lot of our employees are brilliant engineers, project managers, developers, quality assurance specialists. Graphic designers, marketers with business degrees.”
“Than why do you want to hire me? I’m not smart like you!”
“Au contrare, my friend. I’m not that smart Joe! I just know how to talk!! Why do I think I’ve called my company yappsalot?” He than pointed towards his mouth. “This yapper or mouth as you’d have it is what got me through college, NOT my brains.” Than he pointed up at his head. I suddenly noticed this wasn’t his first beer today. “Joe! Just because you didn’t go to an Ivy League College doesn’t mean you’re not just as smart and maybe more even, and oh yeah, did I ever tell you I beLIEVE in you?”
I was a little bit awestruck. Maybe I’d been hungry for compliments lately. My last decade had been spent as a struggling musician in los angeles of all places. Grovelling for beer at bars playng for tips on the pier with side jobs or no jobs, not having enough money for a car or a decent place to stay. Not even having a significant other to cuddle up to and yet Ravi Rarankar believes in me! What did I do to deserve that?
“Remember we were in Pondi in the 90s?” He said. “Nobody wanted to do the ACTUAL labor. Oh, they wanted to come in for the PHOTO OPP!” He nearly spit out his beer and began to laugh raucously.” “They wanted to come to mother India for a vacation, more like it, and lean on a shovel while the cameras were snapping snaps.” Snaps! I hadn’t heard that word in a while – it was slang for pictures. “But while they were leaning on shovels do you remember what you were doing? With your shovel? That’s right! You, my friend, were digging holes! The only one actually digging holes with your shovel! Digging holes!”
“To plant trees in!” I interrupted purposefully.
“That’s right! You were! Planting trees for mother india. Back than, they were merely seedlings. I watched you do the work. Yes even me, the natural born hypocrite who thought Americans were the most god awful spoiled-”
“Well we are, sometimes”
“The land of the bloated- But I watched YOU get your hands dirty. I watched YOU carry buckets of water. I watched you toil in MY country. And now I’m here in your country. In your state, in your city. This lovely land I call home for the parts of the year that are the most convenient for me. Yes, we have offices here in the city of angels.”
“Really, where?”
“Beverly Hills, Toluca Lake.”
“Cool! I can take the 704 bus down to Beverly hills if you want me to work there,” I said.
“Take the bus?” He replied incredulously, waving his hand. “And of course, ladies and gentleman, he rides the bus. Not only is he Superman but he’s helping to improve his carbon footprint.”
“Cars are expensive,” I said sheepishly. I wasn’t looking for a prize.
“He looked at me nonsensically. “Everyone in LA drives! Haven’t you heard the song “Nobody walks in LA? I don’t know a single person here who rides the bus. Except, now, you. Anyways, I , uh, I was going to offer you a job- but not here, not in L.A.”
“You want me to come to San Jose? I could try it out, I guess. My bass player is moving to Miami and my drummer has been to busy to play anyways.”
“Or-how would you like to come back and see how the trees are doing?”
“The trees?”
“You know- the ones you planted…. in India. They’re all grown now! Maybe it’s time to go back and pay your friends a visit!”
“India!” Now there was a thought. I’ve been wanting to travel for years. “I’d love to go back there. But I could never afford it. The downside of being a starving musician is not being able to travel as much as I’d like to.”
“Don’t be a dummy! You may be broke but we’re not. We’ll cover the costs! In other words, the company. You just get your passport and a tourist visa. It’s too much of a mess to get an employee visa- would take forever. Besides, you’ll be working as an intern at first. Trust me- just tell the BLS you’re going for pleasure! Otherwise they’ll give you a runaround. We’ll put you up and give you a stipend for food and entertainment. After that, it’s up to you. If anything, it’s a chance to get the hell out of dodge as they put it out here.” He looked around and wildly waved his arm. “I mean, what are you doing here that you can’t miss out on a few months? Give it a try at least!”
I thought about it. Yeah, there were a couple of gigs I had scheduled. Not very important ones. My rock band was in shambles. Things hadn’t really panned out the way I wanted them to. Maybe it WAS time for a new beginning.
“So how’s the wife?”
“She’s fine. I’ll show you some snaps.” I laughed silently. I always thought that was a funny word for pics.
“You still call em that, snaps. I always thought that was funny. Snaps,” I said again.
“That’s what they are. You snap the damn thing and out comes these.” He showed me some pics on his iphone of him and his wife. He looked happy, and she was pretty. I was glad for him. “Yeah, my parents finally got their daughter in law. Now they want grandkids! Luckily my sister is expecting- that’ll buy me a couple more years.” He looked up at me. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a girl if you come to India.”
“Oh, there’s no maybe about that, Ravi. If I come to India, I’m meeting not just one but tons of girls.”
“Ah, don’t be so cocky- for the most part they aren’t like that. They’re mainly quite conservative- you practically gotta marry them before you even kiss. Anyways, I’m sure you’ll meet your lucky girl. I feel like now it’s not if you’re coming to India, but when. I’d advise you to get your passport and visa ASAP.”
“OK.”
“I’m having another meeting here next week before I go to Chicago. How about we meet here next Thursday at five?”
“Sounds good.”
“OK my friend. I’m going to catch my plane. Come with me to the airport?”
“Sure.” He had an Uber car waiting for him. I saw him off to American Airlines and than I walked out of the airport past the Radisson on Sepulveda. I walked a few blocks north and caught the green #6 bus. The trip passed very slowly. I recognized a girl I had known in the past. Someone who had worked at a venue I used to play music at. I nodded at her but she didn’t remember me.
I felt lost in the vast city- an organism out of it’s element. About 40 minutes later the bus stopped at Santa Monica and Sepulveda at a business park across the street from a strip mall. I thought about how I had walked this whole city. Bussed it, biked it, driven through it. I remembered happily sauntering through the alley ways of Venice beach between Clubhouse and Thornton, dreaming I was talking to the ghost of Jim Morrison. Maybe I was. I remembered playing bass for a band at the whisky in Hollywood. Eating sandwiches backstage and dreaming it was the Hollywood Bowl. I remembered meeting lead singers and actresses on film sets, jamming and recording with famous guitar players. But I never got famous. Instead I got paid in beer at Canter’s Kibitz room. This city gave me a lot of memories. But my wallet was empty. Who was I fooling? Just because a few people tell you how talented you are, that didn’t make me a success. I couldn’t even afford to take a date out to dinner. What kind of man was I becoming? Maybe I could make something of myself in another land. Disappear and come back stronger like Robert Johnson after his great meeting at the crossroads. Only I wouldn’t be selling my soul. I’d be gettin’ it back.
The next day began like a lot of days had. I was a student of a small computer school in Glendale. I was learning various modules and programs at a trade school that I got to go to for free through Hollywood Worksource. I had to talk with Julio, my counselor.
“I may have to leave school early,” I said.
“No way,” he said, “you got a job?!”
“Possibly.”
“Funny,” he replied shaking his head slowly. “It’s always the poor students that get the jobs first. You all got more hustle than the smart ones!”
“Don’t insult me Julio!” I knew he was half joking.
“I’m not insulting you! It’s a fact! And a compliment. You don’t need to be confined to the rules. Use this place than move on. So where you gonna be working?”
“India.”
“Get out!”
“Seriously.”
“Doing what?”
“Working for some App startup.” I told him the actual name of it and he pulled up the website on his mac.
“Wow, pretty impressive. They have some big accounts!! Their main office is in Hyderabad. That’s where Satya’s from!”
“Who?”
“Ceo of microsoft.”
“Oh. Hey, I gotta leave early to get my passport.”
“You mean apply for it. It’ll take you a few weeks to get it, at least.”
“Yeah. I gotta figure out a few things like if I’m going to sublet my apartment of just move out.”
“What are they paying you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? you’re just gonna take a job and not know how much money you’re gonna make? Man, you really ARE a musician.”
“They’re buying my ticket and putting me up. Besides, I’m not that qualified.”
“They gotta give you SOME money!”
“I’m new to this field! I’m lucky to even get a job in this!”
“So what! Get money anyways. Or don’t go. Get it in writing.”
“I don’t know, I don’t want to push it. Most of the people there have like masters degrees, phd’s. I’m just fortunate to get to try something new.”
“Don’t be stupid! Look at me. Get some money. You’re obviously worth something or that dude wouldn’t have hired you.”
“I guess you’re right. You’re A pretty smart man, Julio.”
Julio had rights to talk about things in a way others didn’t. Other people didn’t survive nearly getting gunned down as a teenager in Nicaragua to come “make it” in America and be dumb.
“Oh- and, one more thing. When you get your feet planted firmly in the door, have them hire me too. I’m sick of this place. But I need to stay out here. I have children.”
“OK.”
The passport biz didn’t go as smooth as I wanted it to. Got some pics taken than the guy at the post office in k town said the background in the pic wasn’t white enough. and that the office would send it back.
“Might as well do it right the first time.” couldn’t argue with that. So I went to a studio down the street and had it done. Than I went back to the same guy. He eyeballed the pictures carefully than back at me. “That’ll do. Should arrive in a few weeks.”
I figured I’d continue going to school the next few weeks, and work my weekend job as a bicycle taxi in Santa Monica.
A darkly lit room in Chandigarh, Punjab, India. 1995
“Nothing happens haphazard,” said Dr. Singh as he sat stoutly yet humble in a chair. His turban was drenched from sweat due to the extreme heat. He was dressed all in white. “You came here to us for a reason. This, I’m sure of. As sure as the sun is above us right now.”
Heinrich Miller, his son in law, spoke in a German accent.
“You are lucky. You getting the highest initiation there is. Nowhere else in the world can you find it.”
“You may get this spiritual contact and forget about it. But it can never leave you,” said an older woman whose eyes flickered about like locusts. Mr Singh continued.
“I am going to say the golden words to you. They all mean the same thing. You are never to utter them out loud. Not to anyone. But keep them in here.” He pointed to my forehead. “Let them dwell in here forever more. Now shut your eyes. Gaze through your forehead. I will now tell you the 5 words. But spend time gazing into the light.”
I closed my eyes and I did see a light- but I couldn’t tell if it was because I was meaning to see it or if it was some kind of spiritual entity.
“In this dark room, in this dark world of chaos, you are surrounded by light. This is the light of god.”
Back on the Plane, 2014.
The baby was shrieking. What is it with the little ones? Did I shriek like that once? And why was I dreaming of the past again! Dreams were surely not meant to be autobiographies! But they were pleasant memories. I remember I got back from India the 19 year old know it all. Telling everybody their diversions were unhealthy.
“Why do you need to drink beer when god is inside you, you’re just trying to fill up what is empty inside.” How insufferable I was – I thought I was so touched by the divine – my friends and family were beginning to feel I was touched by madness. At that point I’d even had enough with playing music- because it may take me away from the ‘inner music.’ but what now? Well all I can say is I always went back to my music. It was the glue that held my life together. It just took me a long time to realize that I could develop both the inner and the outer music.
“I still can’t believe you don’t have a car.” Me and Ravi were back at the Ramada 6 days after our first meeting. He was seated at the same table as before. “See the thing is obviously, I believe in your talents. I have talked to the guys in India. They want to meet you. You got your passport?”
“I submitted the application last week- it’ll take a few more.”
“Soon as it comes get your visa. I recommend going straight to the BLS office in San Francisco and paying extra to get it same day so you don’t have to wait. The place is a trainwreck but interesting, in a DMV kind of way.”
“I can’t wait to go, but I can’t afford the ticket.”
“We got that taken care of. Just handle the passport and visa, and we’ll settle the plane ticket and a place for you.”
“Sounds great man,” I said excitedly.
“I’ve been working nonstop all week. Let’s go get something to eat.”
We ubered downtown to Sushigen. Our driver was quite talkative. She was an actress- musician who kept repeating that she refuses to pick anyone up in Beverly Hills.
“I won’t stand for it. I don’t need the bad reviews!” She had known an acquaintance of mine who had been in a band with me. ‘You were in the dirty shirts? Wow, you guys rocked! You really put on a great show!” Ravi looked impressed at least.
“You know his band?”
“Of course! I used to see them play every weekend!”
“Pretty cool man,” he said looking at me proudly. “You have fans!” It was a nice coincidence that our driver knew who I was. Of all the drivers in LA!
At Sushi Gen I gave up on the chopsticks and picked up my fork. I didn’t want my Salmon Teriyaki getting cold. “I’m usually a veg, but once and a while I have some fish.”
“You don’t eat meat? How do you get any protein?”
“I manage. I promised my guru I wouldn’t eat meat when I was 18- I break my promises sometimes.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I was 18.”
“You were 19 when you took the vows.”
“Good memory.”
“Shut up and try this.” He had a piece of beef in between 2 chopsticks, held right in front of my hungry face. It did look good to me- this was always how I fell off the veggie wagon. At the same time that I’d feel protein deficient, someone would offer a tasty morsel such as this and I’d indulge. That was why I could never call myself a 100% vegetarian. I snagged the meat and chomped it down.
“I love making Americans break their phony spiritual vows,” Ravi said tauntingly with a grin. “Now lets find you a chick.” I had a faux hawk and he pulled on the tale of it. “I’ll make a man of you yet, if it’s the last thing I do. Your GOD sure hasn’t yet. First thing in order of operations,” he began, “is you need to put down that damn guitar already!”
“Hey you of all people were impressed that our driver knew who I was!”
“Well, so what if you’re well known, you’ve got no dollars! That’s like having a ferrari with no keys to drive it!”
“I do OK.”
“Joe, can I be honest with you,” he asked. I nodded my head. “You’re the only adult in LA I know who does NOT have a car. That is NOT OK.”
“In my humble opinion, Ravi, if you measure people by these kind of yardsticks, nobody is doing OK.”
“What do ya mean?”
“The CEO of a bank has a screenplay he is dying for someone to read. The Attorney hates practicing law. The coder swears he could’ve been a concert pianist. Believe me, giving up your dreams is more painful than taking a bus.”
“But nobody walks in LA!…. Seriously though. I’m not just working for the Happapp- I’m the CEO! Of the whole damn company! Which means I could hire you for something. I mean, I was actually thinking about it. You may not be that educated, but you ARE smart. I think you never really had a REAL job.”
I felt offended. Trying not to blush or sound too angry, I retorted. “What’s a real job?”
