Journal cyranoVR's Journal: Tales from the Baltimore Travel Plaza 9
Last weekend MrsVR and I traveled to Richmond, Virginia, for the first big national fencing competition of the season. Now I suppose I could write yet another entry about how our fencing went (it went very well) and the interesting things we did (dinner at 4th Street Cafe) and didn't do (Confederate War Museum - too tired after the competition to go), etc. etc. blah blah blah BORING.
No, I won't write about that. I'm going to write about the REAL highlight of the weekend, which came during a stop at the Baltimore Travel Plaza - Exit 57 on I-95.
We pulled over a little after sundown for a fast-food dinner. MrsVR quickly got some KFC with all the fixins and grabbed a table. Meanwhile, I stood debating how to best poison myself, finally settling on an A&W root beer float (I wasn't that hungry).
As I joined MrsVR at a table, I couldn't help but overhear the loud, twangy voice of a man sitting a few rows over, by the window. He was having a conversation with someone whom I later determined to be a complete stranger, speaking in a tone of voice that clearly indicated he wished everyone in the vicinity to hear what he had to say.
Of course, I use the term "conversation" loosely - this was a very one-sided dialog, with the unfortunate soul serving as but a sounding board for Crazy Redneck's extreme views. Every utterance brought forth a new aphorism of ignorance, punctuated with a rhetorical "You know what ah mean?" All his unfortunate target could do was politely nod, eat his food efficiently, and shuffle out as soon as reasonably possible.
Meanwhile, I was scribbling in my palm pilot as much as I could from Crazy Redneck's ramblings. And do I mean ramblings. There wasn't a subject this guy touched upon that hasn't surfaced in the extremist right blogosphere in the last year. This dude was like some caricature of the sloped-forehead, under-bite-having, inbred imbeciles that populate the message boards of Freeperville or Little Snotballs...but he was the REAL DEAL! Here was a living, breathing human being of the sort I honestly didn't think actually existed. Below are my rough notes of what he had to "say:"
He writes poetry based on Scripture - "you'd be surprised how many people are offended by a Book they pretend to believe in."
Keeps poetry on "computer" overseas because of (get this) the PATRIOT act(!). Apparently, he's afraid that Homeland Security will confiscate his computer (I guess he didn't hear what happened to the Indy Media servers in Italy
:-\) Wrote poem about AIDS "for ev'ry nation and ev'ry language." He took a moment to recite few stanzas from this poem. The gist of it was: some man in Africa had sex with a monkey, so now the Gays are getting what they deserve.
The style was, naturally, rhyming couplets and sing-song rhythm - real 4th grade stuff.
Started ruminating about Castro and Arafat (I guess he fancied himself some sort of geopolitical pundit). Observed that Castro should die soon just like Arafat did, but "of course, they won't say what he [Arafat] died of...whether he was poisoned or had AIDS or what." He then rambled on for about 2-3 more minutes about this bizarre idea that Arafat died of AIDS. He restated several times the crucial - and only - evidence for this theory: "they won't say *what* he died from, you know what ah mean?" Yes...
Mentioned briefly how he makes his living - something about $200,000 trailer homes. Something else about taking trucks w/out beer in them (???) and "parkin' 'em on the street in poor neighborhoods." WTF?
"You know what ah mean?" (I can't emphasize enough: he said this at the end of EVERY sentence).
Then came the 1,000 Ton Zinger - the QUOTE OF THE YEAR - the aphorism that made me almost jump out of my chair obnoxiously laughing:
"People talk about a nuclear bomb or a sub-machine gun winning a war...but sometimes a single-shot squirrel rifle gets the general..."
[Editor's Note: OMFG! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!111oneoneoneeleven]
"...you know what I mean?"
[Seriously, to truly appreciate this line, you need have heard it spoken in the slackjawed "I just fucked my sister" drawl this guy had.]
Only later did it occur to me: This guy hunts and eats squirrels.
It only got better:
"Yup...ah just got back from Austin - you wouldn't believe how many gays and how many drugs they had down there."
"Of course, the only thing gettin' traffic on the internets is
pornography...penises...homosexuals..."[Editors Note: I couldn't make out what he said, hence the "..." - sometimes his manner of speaking was just that garbled].
Finally, his "friend" got up to leave. As he quickly shuffled towards the door, head ducked, Crazy Guy called after him: "You ever go on the internets? No? Well, you should git yerself WebTV...it don't never crash!" [Editors Note: root beer came out of my nose]
Suddenly his "friend" had left, and we were alone with Crazy Redneck Guy. Predictably, Redneck wasted no time in loudly addressing *me*:
"'Scuse me sir...can you get web pages on that phone?" I had been attempting to record a portion of his ramblings for posterity using my cell's voice memo feature.
Had MrsVR not been there, I would have probably engaged Redneck in conversation. And by "conversation," I mean a subtle effort to coax out more of his bizarre "views." The conversation would have reached its crescendo upon my concurrence with his views on gays and "ay-rabs," followed with a sharp condemnation of "those Blacks and Jews."
Now THAT would have been a good time.
But alas, it was not to be. MrsVR was growing anxious, the hour was growing late, and so I cut short Crazy Redneck's laughable attempt at dialog, answering his inquiry with a curt and slightly irritated "No."
"Too bad" he replied, "you'd be surprised what people have web pages on the internets." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him leaning back in his chair with a broad, self-satisfied grin.
Moments later, MrsVR and I finished our meals and anxiously jumped up to leave. As we strode out the door, towards our car and Reality, I turned for one last glimpse of Redneck Guy. But having lost his "audience," he had already departed.
At the space where he had been sitting, there was garbage strewn partially on the table, partially on the floor. The chairs where in utter disarray.
I wasn't surprised in the least.
Wow! (Score:2)
-MT.
Re:Wow! (Score:2)
I was telling MrsVR that we should both quit our jobs, hop in the car, and travel across America documenting our encounters with weirdos at various rest stops. The resulting book would make us millionaires.
Re:Wow! (Score:2)
-MT.
Did he really say that? (Score:1)
Re:Did he really say that? (Score:2)
Cramping your style (Score:1)
Note to MrsVR (Score:2)
trucks w/out beer in them (Score:1)
A quick way to make money doing this would be if you're hauling beer in a truck to sell the beer on the black/grey market, then "taking trucks w/out beer in them (???) and "parkin' 'em on the street in poor neighborhoods." overnight, after which you then report the beer stolen, and the rightful owner of th
Re:trucks w/out beer in them (Score:2)
Wow, that makes perfect sense. Isn't it interesting how people that claim to be the most rightous (ref: Scripture poetry) are usually the most corrupt?
BTW - you lose points for not letting us zoo folks in MD know you were going to be in town.
But then how would I encounter such interesting people! In all seriousness, we were on a mad dash to make it back to Hoboken before 1 AM, so we only had time for fast food stops.
However, we did have a free day in Richmond. Oops...