So the termite sez, "Is the bar tender here?"

I was gone, but now I'm back. I am psyched (man, I have so much trouble spelling that) for the playoff games today. Both should be really good, really hard fought games.

I gave up my Saturday, and the ACC basketball a Sat. afternoon entails, to take the wife to the flea market. It was a beautiful day. Sunny and about 80. I knew if I blew her off Saturday that she would not be denied on Sunday. So I told her I'd give her Saturday in exchange for Sunday. Seems to have worked.

Funny, the flea market actually worked in my favor for securing a good couch potato position for today's games. Everybody we had any occasion to talk to steered the talk to the games, which gave Nong an inkling that it wasn't just me being lazy. The kicker though was when the mother and daughter who were running the purse stand spent the whole time talking NFL with me, up to and including in depth criticisms of the Buccaneers' assistant coaching staff, and the QB coaching staff in particular. That's when Nong knew I was lost for Sunday.

I was in Olongapo City, Phillippines in the late 80's or very early 90's. Really not sure and my mental timeline abandonded me long ago. I know for sure I was older than 19 and younger than 40. Yeah, that timeframe.

Olongapo could be kinda rough. All the visiting sailors who were scared to ride a jeepney or get too far out of sight of the base stayed there. It was an amazing place, really, if you're into the lights and bustle. It existed only to entertain the sailors and marines, and at that it excelled. There were bars upon bars upon bars. All had cheap booze and pretty girls. Some of the really large places had live bands. And they jammed. They were loud, they were smokey, and, cheap as they seemed to be, they could soak you out of your whole paycheck in a single night. And you would thank them for doing it it.

In fact, there were quite a few people, establishments and even government entities who were there mostly just to seperate you from your money. And most amazing was that the more sailors you brought to town, the more pretty girls there seemed to be. No matter how many ships would pull in, I never saw the ratio change. It was a most interesting place, but not quite my style. Mostly because I am somewhat put off by loud noise and frequent fights.

One hot, dusty day I was walking through Olongapo on my way to the Victory Liner Station, which is where we went to catch a jeepney to Barrio Baretta or even all the way out to Subic City. As I was walking, I heard George Jones coming through an open window. I followed it and found myself in a pleasant little upstairs joint. Mamasan was friendly (not always the case, especially in Olongapo) and I was the only customer. I had plenty of female attention (because, as they say, I have great peso-nality), good hardcore country tunes, and ice cold San Miguel to ease me on through another hot PI afternoon.

Pretty soon another white boy shows up. Then another. Then another and another. In fact, the place has gotten pretty full. Mamasan allows as how this always happens when she plays the country tapes she has. The place gets full of misplaced country boys, drinking heavy and spending freely. So that's why what she does next surprised me so.

She pulls the country tape out and pops in a mix tape that includes Madonna, Ace of Bass, Roxette, Whitney Houston, etc. The country boys, as they finish their beers, thank mamasan and one by one wander downstairs and out the door. Soon it is just us again and mamasan tells me that sometimes the place gets really busy (like whan she is playing country music) but that it's hard to keep them there very long (like when she stops playing country music and puts on dance pop instead). I look at her and smile. I put 100 pesos on the bar and stand up, indicating I'm leaving the change as a tip, and say, "Huh. I wonder why that is?" And I head for the door to go find me that jeepney I was looking for.

I'd like to write more. Really I would. But I just came in from pulling the crepe myrtle tree up and dropping the new fruit tree in the hole, and also doing a sprinkler check. I am dripping sweat all over the keyboard. Even though the temp is 10 degrees above normal, I am not going to turn the AC on in the middle of winter. It just ain't natural. So... sit and bitch it is then.

Station dito, Honey-ko, Out
Ramblin' Ed