June 27, 2004
Driving home, to what I consider my 'real home,' I felt a sense of long awaited relief. Like a deep sigh just yearning to be exhaled. The smile inside me infiltrated my entire spirit for the duration of the weekend and I was me again. I sat at the kitchen table as my mother prepared dinner for Saturday and Sunday - some of my favorites and enough to ensure that I would have leftovers to take home. We spoke about the family, related recent events and thought about how lucky we all are. My father and I discussed Jane Austin as I laundered my clothes and watered mom's flowers. I watched the live timing for the Formula Extreme race at BIR on AMA Pro Racing to find Pascal Picotte finish fifth and Doug Chandler to not finish at all. Just after cocktail hour began, Shane called me from the pits to relate his excitement at Pascal's noble placement and to tell me that he himself installed the transmission for his bike the night before. How much pride flows through me to see his great accomplishment and dream come true. My grandmother and I spoke on the phone shortly after this, as I wandered the back yard bare foot, smoothing my fingers over the enticing form of the cattails, sipping my cocktail and thanking her again for her overstated generosity.
Miss Mollie arrived about an hour later to join in the festivities which are so often present in the Johnson household. I put on the Boat Tunes CD I had compiled for my parents about a month ago and we all sang and danced and laughed night away. Tears of joy and jealously ran down the face of my dear Mollie as she watched my mother and I dance with our hearts throughout the living room and on the deck. How she must long for such a connection with her own parents. She decided that we should venture out and although I delayed our jouney several times, we finally broke ground around 11:00 after watching and applauding my father as he danced the part of Oliver on the patio with immense joy and laughter. My - what the neighbors MUST think of US!
We were somehow recommended to a particular location and made our way to the Real McCoy's just down the road. Upon our entrance, many a face turned and before I took one taste of the drink that Mollie had ordered for me, it was announced by onlookers that I was quite the 'sassy girl.' I danced freely with my lovely partner even though no one else was dancing, I threatened the tattooed half-breed who ran into me on his way to the bathroom and I sneered at the toothless hillbilly who dropped her beer glass at our feet. I was than determined to finish my drink and remove ourselves from this hickville hideaway, in search for a more meaningful evening of fun and games. As we arrived in town and tapped our toes on the cool evening's pavement, a very intoxicated Casey Lohmeier called out to his dear friend Mollie and engulfed her in a giant hug. His face peered across her shoulder and to my knees, up to my waist, over my chest and finally to my eyes in wonderful amazement.
"Laura!" he said, as he slowly closed the distance between himself and me, "I will always refer to you as 'Chris Johnson's Little Sister.'" Than he remarked on how beautiful I have become; tall and lean, spirited and graceful and as I turned to walk down the sidewalk I heard him relate to Mollie, "But just LOOK at that ASS she has!" I must admit that although Casey has much disgressed over the years, gained quite a bit of weight and lost a bit of that endearing charm, I still found myself to hold a steady smile at the compliments he shared (though crude and somewhat uncalled for).
I know not the name of the bar we first graced our presence with, yet I had a determination to immediately resume drinking and dancing and care less than a WINK for the dozens of patrons whose territory we invaded. I somehow managed to relieve Casey of the enchanting beads wrapped around his neck and continued, for the rest of the evening, to skillfully tease my partner (as well as various onlookers) in crime with their leash like immenities and seductive quality. I was led to a bar that I only recently learned is named something such as the Wild, Mean or Big Bore (or some other such word which promotes intimidation in the fierceness of a savage pig...). From there, my senses carried me to a particular area of the bar where I could smell the invigorating scent of Drakkar and procure another drink or two from an expecting member of the opposite sex.
The gentleman to my right intrigued me with the braces he had propped up against the rail at his side and for the scars left behind on his arms from some involved surgery. I soon learned that he had both of his legs amputated due to a motorcycle 'accident' and now bore the braces as support for his new plactic molded legs (joined by metal at the bottom where his calves would be). We enjoyed eachother's company for the duration of the evening, except for when his wheelchair bound friend imparted a peice of jealous rage toward my distracting presence. His friend went so far as to slap my face to which I quickly returned the gesture by pushing him backward with my foot and caused him to fall directly out of his wheelchair. I turned to my more pleasant company and concluded without hesitation that he fully deserved this consequence and continued to drink what I now believe was a Vodka Tonic.
Since the situation had so climaxed, I almost felt relieved that bar time was soon afterward called and that I would have the opportunity to end the evening on such an eventful note. I lingered at Jay's truck for a few moments and rather hastily furnished him with my cell phone number - I knew I was too far gone to act so perfectly the lady, but a phone number is still much more innocent as compared to a physical pursuit. My lack of brevity in confiding my disinterest has sometimes proved my cowardess, yet I cannot state that I will not return the call that he has only moments ago made.
As Mollie and I made our way back to her truck, I was surprised to find a stranger sitting in my seat. Without much whining on my part, I found my place in the back, along with the bottle of MD that Mollie had purchased ealier in the day. The two minute drive to take this stranger home provided more than enough time for me to determine that our new company wasn't worth the breath I had generously extoled upon him. When Mollie began to follow him towards his house, I immediately found myself in rescue mode and declared our time better spent anywhere besides our present location. Naturally, I found the only crevace in the earth within a five mile radius, twisted my ankle slightly and deeply bruised my back against a profound grouping of large rocks. Our stranger only laughed, walking directly past me, making my drunk and distressful situation even more frustrating and procurring a greater amount of ferocious anger inside me than I had notion to do with. I merely simpered with stupidity and allowed Mollie to pull my body from the rocky earth, cursing now and than that I had consumed so damn much alcohol. This was enough to convince her to take me home and put me safely to bed.
I recall so little of what happened next, but found myself in all a rage over a multitude of events that I had previously felt very little right to give voice to. I proceeded to cry and wail and let out all of the enormities which only gained more force by their neglect over time. I felt ready to let it go, uninhibited by the vulgar release of the poison which then flowed with intensity through my blood and encouraged by the gentle shoulder which her kind soul provided. Her continued greatness in helping me down the stairs to my house was not more appreciated than her insistant gesture of tucking me into my soft bed that my parents had made up for me. Although she tried to shun my hands from reaching for the phone, I somehow managed to await her removal and make a return call to that man with the eyes full of intensity.
Also somehow, beyond my immediate comprehension, we managed to continue our distanced rendevous until the sun began to rise and the sounds of birds outside my window increased in strength and tempo - ensuring the idea that I would not be rising at my normal early hour of the morning. Yet, although rather late, I still rose with enthusiasm, confidence and the dozens of questions imparted from my parentals.
I lazily spread out my day with relating the events of the evening to my family, consoling Mollie over her lost wallet and eventually suggesting its location to be where my body was mangled by a gaping hole in some freak's front yard (which proved correct, incidentally), recording and gasping over the Supersport and Superbike races at BIR, disbelieving that I saw Shane on TV, thanking my mother for my new goldfish plant and cuisinart and providing my body with the much needed rehydration that I had robbed it of Saturday night. I enjoyed yet another glorious feast with the most enjoyable company the world could provide and before departing, we all attempted to harmonize to the songs which I hold so very dear and although successful at a turn, chocked up the flat notes to being too tired. Ahhh, yes, a sure sign that I should be on my way, driving back to my apartment until whence I should next find myself driving 'home.'
