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(posted to r.m.h. on June 11, 1999)
There I was. Thursday, June 3rd 1999. MITM campground. 1250 miles ridden hard in 17 hours total time, interrupted only by a 5 hour nap after 500 miles and a rest stop for gas and some chocolate every 130 miles or so. Around 11 PM, give or take. 750 miles since the nap ended. Riding with a sonovabitch who was pissing me off at every turn, I was downright testy when we pulled into camp. I couldn't get away to be by myself fast enough. Wandering around looking for the crapper, I grumbled and grunted in a rude manner toward every sorry bastard that turned an eye on me and tried to say hello. I had not a friendly word for anyone. I had no idea why the hell I had come this far out into such a backward-ass part of the country, anyway. WTF had I been thinking? That was when it happened. I had stumbled into the vicinity of the beer cart. The general crowd of lowlife scum-of-the-earth drunk losers was hanging around within arm's length reach of the taps. Alcoholics, the lot of them. The stench was overpowering. "Hey, there he is! That's the Asshole(tm) that people have been talking about. What a nasty fucker. He deserves a kick in the ass!" "Yeah, what's he here for anyway?" That was a familiar question. "He can't even say hello to anyone or anything!" "He's that fuckhead who posts all the bullshit wasted bandwidth and is always telling everyone to go to hell." One group within the group had just arrived and couldn't get enough beer into themselves, as well as onto themselves during the process. Their ears perked up and they instantly surrounded me. They seemed awfully slimy. "We've been hearing about you, boy" said someone who called himself Snarl. What the hell kind of name was *that*, anyway? "I think we need to perform an attitude adjustment here, fellas." Fellas? Who the hell was this guy, anyway? Some Asshole(tm)? "I know just the thing" said someone named Grand Poobah or tuba or tubular, for all I knew. He certainly _looked_ the part. "We'll slug him and force him to live up to the honor. That'll learn him." Learn him? Where did these guys come from, Mars? Some awful place where it rains all the time and people overpopulate out of sheer boredom? Who the hell still talks like that? "Yeah, Grab him!" Some poor shovel-riding fool yelled. Who the hell still rode shovels, fer crissake!? Didn't they know real bikers only rode Twin Cams? I found myself the victim of some clinging sucky leechlike grips as I was whisked away toward the campfire, where I was suctioned into a chair. For the next several minutes I endured sheer torture as these demons worked their magic on me. I lost consciousness. When I awoke I felt different. Something had changed. I felt kind of slimy inside. There was a number dancing before my eyes, kind of wavering in the air. It seemed very important that I try to understand. A bearded face appeared thru the haze. A bandana was wrapped tightly around the man's head. I heard a voice, and his lips seemed to move, but I thought I was hearing the words right in my head. They were emblazened into my memory. "You will become a meaningful contributor. You will help filter the noise. You will teach the unenlightened, and in turn be taught yourself. You will help. Go forth and congregate. The masses are waiting."
With that, I was ushered into the night, to make my
welcomed way toward the crowds and a new life. A slug
was born.
LESDL |