Thursday afternoon was a day sent from hell. My oh my did I learn my lesson. In no way did I wish to take the bus ride up south to Escondido and through the tall rustic mountain to Harrah's Casino inside the forever hills of North County. but the events of Thursday made me bus it the next. .
The true story begins on Thursday afternoon. I accompany Pearl on the piano at the Rodger's Senior Center back at the Five Points Senior Apartments at about 12:30, exhausted. My brother's near heart attack caused by Pneumonia kept me awake for a few nights, and his neglect at the Fountain Valley Hospital made me ill. . Eight years I have kept him alive since we have become close in later life. I still can see my father's personality when we are together.
Well like I's been saying, I went for my old-timers nap and awoke at about three o'clock at the Five Flags Apartments across from Trader Joe's. I wished to end my day reading the New York Times at the U.B. library off of Talbert.
My car had disappeared from its space. It had become part of me, like a women. Did she run off in my apartment across from Trader Joe's.I had been dealing with too much lately, not of my own doing. I had tried to keep my life simple. I walked into the security garage area. "Was I dreaming?" My 2002 Cavalier disappeared. I felt numb and my body trembled. 'Hell I spent $1,600 a month for my apartment and who could have taken this old black car?
My attorney told me not to speak of the case of the missing car as it just might end up in court. Yet I had lost another car after I had left the windows open. Perhaps the disappearance of my car Dolly might have been for me to get my football story finished -- and enjoy a book signing at U.S.C. After all Amby Schindler still lives on at 98, and the last of the great players under Howard Jones.
After a sleepless Thursday evening, after a sleepless night, I needed to get away from reality. I felt that somebody had raped me -- a dam useless feeling. The next morning I jumped on the bus ride to Harrah's Casino at eight in the morning. My mind felt stone cold. The bus arrived every morning at eight o'clock outside of the the Five Points to take the suckers to the Casino on top of the rustic yellow and sometimes brown mountains above Escondido.
The bus ambled along and two ladies in front of me chit-chatted the entire way. The AC barely worked but my inhaler did. It had been August hot in Huntington Beach and with unhealthy air. At about nine thirty after leaving San Clemente, the radio announcer cautioned everyone to keep away from Oceanside going South
A rig overturned and is taking up to lanes. Ahead a curved snake ambled slowly, ever so slowly through the Camp Pendleton area. How I longed to be on a surf board rather than on this bus. I survived this part of the drive en then the bus took up the Escondido Freeway all the way to Lincoln Blvd.
Why it took close to two hours to go from San Clemente to Oceanside. The bus driver did a fabulous job keeping her wits. The two gabby females enjoyed the time to feast on words. I did my best to deflect them but just could not.
I kept looking for the Casino and discovered how beautiful the orange and rustic hills looked I had a vision of Cochise or Geronimo riding down the hills to tomahawk us. At eleven fifteen, I saw the large edifice with a colorful background to behold.
I entered and knew immediately boredom would set in. Yet the outside swimming area was the tonic this old warrior needed to stay alive. The sun's war-painted rays glancing off the rustic majestic shaped hills put my stress away. I longed to be with a classy chick decked out lying on a chaise lounge but my teeth needed fixin and my pockets held no coins.
Inside slot machines harvested most to the crop from early Friday visitors. Most of the tree pickers wore large trunks with fruit so blemished that only a drifter wouldn't eat from their plate. Their bulges were in the wrong places. Their nimble fingers tried to press the lucky button that might have won them a jackpot. I couldn't see how these machines could offer solace to these patrons with nothing better to do.
Again I trembled at the thought of returning home to find Dolly, my car, not in her spot. -- and with Surf City with the worst transportation in the South Bay. But I felt better even though I spent more time o the bus than inside the Casino. $150 would have gotten me a king sized bed but on my retirement, making ends meet was no small task.
The bus left the hill top Casino at three fifteen. The bus was hot inside, but who cared. I forgot my troubles for a day, and thank God I made it for another. And oh yes, the two-gabby ones continued their conversation. The bus ride home took almost three hours. Somehow riding the bus made me forget my sorrows of my lost Dolly, my sole mate car.
Nut and Bots for today: Put your troubles in a small slim bag and smile, smile. Take the day off and exercise your cheeks.
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