My Move [Pass Through]
Through the Greater Eugene/Springfield Metropolitan Area: Fucking Eugene They
Fucking Drink Fucking heavy up here. Hunh Unc Jim?
The Welcome Inn
As mom I
hastily drove around trying not to turndown a one way we stumbled upon this
nice looking place with an upper middle, Arab family running the operation. They
were nice people. They just had towels, older than my mother. So I woke up with
the sleeping bag half off, we didn’t sleep underneath the covers. I start to
load the car, a slightly inebriated young individual, call to his buddy.
“Ya, got a straw bro?”
I slam the
door as Mom and I burst into laughter followed by an exchange of some drug
using stories. It was an especially crisp October afternoon. I don’t recall
which day of the week. I do remember loading the car up as quick as possible so we could leave this dump.
As I pulled
into the Ye Old Pancake house, my mouth watered in anticipation for the
chocolate pancakes I would have for the second time. Mom was an especially
angry bird this morning; she grew weary of the small town diner while yearning
for her city by the bay. I was confident in my decision to up and leave.
“Fuck em, I played that shit out. 15 minutes from any bridge
come on man. Fuck the bay.”
As my anger
subsided and the sugar from the orange juice feed my sugar addiction, my mom
pleaded for me to give up my plans to move out of state. I disregarded these
concerns and spoke about the big Duck game coming up. Stanford was hot coming
in. People were sleeping on the Ducks. Locals knew though, a stomping was in
quick order. They were faster and stronger and well coached. The tree was
burnt, early and often. As we ate as quickly as possible our yearning for the
northwest coast was coming on like some good ecstasy. The drug yearning grew as
I though about using. We tipped the waitress who was sexy and taller than me. I
grabbed a copy of Eugene
weekly, I laughed as I saw the big cannabis leaf on the cover.
As we headed to the coast, I
cracked the sun roof in my middle class Ford Focus. I sparked a blunt up as mom
sped up. My head moved in a circle as I looked around for rollers and troopers.
“GUN IT” I said as the coast to the coast seemed clear. The
ZTS quickly picked up speed as we moved toward the northwest coast. I grabbed
the SLR from the back seat. I looked through the sun roof, nothing but sunny
“It’s beautiful here when it’s not raining” Mom expressed
her happiness with the journey to the coast.
“Here’s our buddy again, let’s pick him up!” I proclaimed as
mom shot me with a, you’re kidding look. His sign read “COAST” scruffy and in
need of help I handed him the rest of the change in my pocket and said,
“Be easy homey.”
The Second One
As I took a drag from the Newport that dangled from
my lip, the cake came on quick. It is in hindsight, that I knew I should have
waited a few hours and let the cannabis wear off a bit.
“All right Unc Jim, I’m gonna get up out here”
I glanced at my phone, it read
8:03. Early enough, I thought. I turned the volume all the way to the right,
the two tens blared some rap music. I hit the gas and turned the wheel a bit.
Getting loose is what they called it in the Bay. Dirt and dust flew up and my
car came to a sideways stop. I straightened her up and gunned it and quickly
stopping while I peaked out of the intersection. The ride through Eugene was quick, oddly
enough. As I punched it, my exit was quickly approaching. I slowed down, hit
the signal. The next thing I remember was seeing an officer of the law make a
sharp u turn and get behind me. I thought,
“Fuck it, get your money worth, you could loose this clown.
No, I am no criminal. I am just a pot smoker who loves to drive.”
“May I have your license and registration please?” The officer
pronounced his presence with authority.
Damn the special cop who gave the second sobriety test. I
“It’s an information game, don’t give them any. Another
night in jail won’t be that bad”
It smells like trees, there’s no
“Yes sir I smoked marijuana a few hours ago. No I will not
take your ‘sobriety’ test.”
“You’re under arrest” said the arresting officer.
“Whatever” I muttered as I mentality prepared for my second
night in jail in less than two weeks.
“At least it aint John George,” we both chuckled as he
remembered my story from the first arrest.