Monday, August 24, 2009

One Last Shot

One Last Shot

The tale you're about to read is entirely true and tragic that starving children in third world nations will feel my pain. Of course they wont be able to tell the difference between my pain and the pain of not eating for a week. But that's Sally Struthers problem and well, once you finish this blog you'll realize I have my own problems to deal with. Namely because of a shot glass.

And before I get started on this, let me say I'm sorry. I know you don't read this blog to get inundated with my personal shit, that's a pet peeve of mine when it comes to blogs and people thinking that they're so god damn important that any one gives two shits about their own person struggles. I don't fool myself. I know you don't care. You read my blog because I'm funny, off the wall and often witty. I apologize in advance but stick around through the personal strife and maybe you'll laugh at my suffering.

Back in 2005 I did my little road trip from Florida to Los Angeles. On this really awesome road trip I saw many things, ate many items and enjoyed life to the best that one man with a car full of gas and an open highway in front of him could enjoy life by. In that it was pretty boring after a while. You factor in that Texas is about 800 miles of nothing but empty wastelands.. and racist rednecks.

I knew that the drive wasn't going to be all that interesting. It's 773 miles of god damn nothing! My hope was going and almost gone when I passed mile marker 769 and then I saw it.. such a sign of beauty. Ok, it was more along the lines of confusing and... a little upsetting.

This sign was telling me to hold my piss for 262 miles? Whaaa? But I wanted to pull over and piss over Texas. With Bush in the white house, I felt it was my all-American right and privileged to take a long piss on the state that allowed him to run and own a baseball team in.

Though I have to say that I found it a little humoring. There was this stupid beaver as the mascot of the company. What's there not to like? Well, I didn't have to take a piss and so I carried on. The more I drove, the more I found funny signs for this place. One of them even just had this slogan "BUC-EE'S: IT'S A BEAVER" and maybe it was because by mile marker 650, I was starting to lose my marbles. Oh yeah, if you can't tell by now, I was counting down the miles before I was out of Texas.

But through it all there was the Buc-ee's silly signs to guide me through. Like an albatross leading a ship out of stormy seas. Like a compass leading a hiker back to safety. Like something something adverb something something something. Yes, Buc-ee's sure as hell made my trip tolerable. It gave me something to look forward to. Mainly due to the best sign that they had "Fabulous Restrooms". Oh my, I can't say that in my travels from Florida to the current middle of Texas that I had used a half way decent restroom. Yes, there's Southern hospitality, but they don't advertise Southern Restrooms because all those biscuit and gravey sure as hell does not go down easy in their plumbing.

After pushing on through vast fields of Texas nothingness I finally got closer and closer to my new goal - To see this Buc-ee's in person. I figured it was some sort of attraction park. It ended up being a whole lot better, It was a gas station! And what a gas station it was. They had all sorts of trinkets and other junk. The neon sign kept highlighting their fabulous restrooms and you know what, they were beyond clean. I built up the hype about those johns and I can't say that I was let down in the slightest in terms of how clean they were.

I was in heaven. Or at least what heaven would look like if it had self-service gas stations, beef jerky from around the animal kingdom and all sorts of other junk that an all service gas station selling wares would have. I needed to take home a piece of this place. I needed to remember that it wasn't all a dream... Then I saw it. A shot glass with Buc-ee's Beaver mascot face on the front. Turning it around and what did my eyes see? The logo "IT'S A BEAVER".

Maybe it was the fumes from the gas pumps outside. Maybe it was the fact that I just drive a good 500 miles hyping this place up with billboards. But I cracked up so much at this shot glass. I had to buy it. I plopped down my green backs on the counter, bought some beef jerky and hit the road again with my new prize. The buc-ee's shot glass.

While the rest of my road trip had their own adventures that I could save for another time, let's jump forward to when I finally make it to L.A. and I'm unloading all my stuff. I have the buc-ee's shot glass in a plastic bag covered in paper and safely secure... or so I thought till I put down my bags and heard a large glass crushing down. Yes, not even two minutes into my place and I already destroyed the shot glass that I valued so much from the road trip.

To say that I was a little bit sad is an understatement. I was pretty frustrated. Here I am far away from Texas and even though I stopped by the Alamo, I was in a state of not being able to forget the Buc-ee's shot glass. I called around. I still had one connection in Texas that I could call up and see if they could do me a solid and get me a shot glass, ship it to me. Sure, I bribed them with Arrested Development show material like scripts and other handy crafts that I stole from the set.

Sure enough, about six weeks later I got it in the mail. A replacement shot glass to my broken Buc-ee's one. I was complete again. And while yes, it was just a material item that I really had no practical use for, seeing that I'm not a drunk and if I was to turn into one, I sure as hell wouldn't waste a step by pouring it into a shot glass.

It was more along the lines of a memory of the road trip. Even though it wasn't MY shot glass, it looked exactly like it that I could pass it off as my own. Maybe one day I would tell it the terrible secret that I had to get it through the mail. But I wasn't going to ruin its ability to get me wasted.

They say that the good times can't last forever. They're right. They can't. Yesterday when I got back home I found that gravity has decided to work against me and dropped a bottle of Patron while I was away. While the glass bottle was thick enough that I didn't lose any Patron, I did notice the shards of a shot glass. It was like seeing a dead body. It was my replacement Buc-ee's shot glass. Shattered into a good couple of pieces. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Now you may be thinking "It's just a shot glass, what's the big deal?" And I'll tell you to go fuck yourself, thank you kindly. It may very well be a shot glass with some itched on scribbles. But it was the last memory that I stopped by a Buc-ee's on the first road trip that I traveled so far. From Florida to Los Angeles. Let's see you do that!

So now I'm left with two shattered used-to-be-pieces-of-shot-glass left. One broken shot glass would just be bad lucky. Clearly there's some force, some mythical and unexplainable hand guiding heavy objects or my own clumsy nature to break and otherwise crush my shot glasses at every opportunity. While I maintain my strong atheist beliefs in not believing, I can't ignore the fact that of all the shitty shot glasses I have and never use, the one that I enjoyed the most is the target of such crimes against glassware. Shattered by the one item that gets put into these? Now that's just cold blooded.

I'm not left with a tricky lack of options. I don't know when's the next time I'll be unlucky enough to be in Texas. Nor do I want to continue not having a shot glass that, even though I'm a raging alcoholic that seldom drinks, I don't think I can go on with this idea that my Buc-ee's road trip memory is shattered. So I'm looking to you, anyone who lives in Texas.. or even you Buc-ee's corporate headquarters. I've tried looking for an online way to purchase this. I have money that I want to give you in exchange for goods and services!

Maybe I should just face the facts. The shot glass is dead and I'm more than likely not going to get another any time soon. It's tragic, I know. but maybe it's for the best. Who needed to be reminded that Buc-ee's was indeed, a Beaver. And isn't it odd that they would say "It's a beaver" He has a name, you know. Buc-ee! I'll pour myself a stiff shot to ease the pain, but it's not going to be the same without drinking it out of the Buc-ee's shot glass.

Now as I attempt to take one last shot out of this broken shot glass, with what I assume will result in my lips being completely cut up (and not to mention that vodka isn't going to feel to great on the potential open wound) I say goodbye Buc-ee's Shot Glass #2. You last a lot longer than shot glass #1 and I really don't know when I'll replace you, but rest assure I'll try to fill your empty space on the shelf with something like you... cause you're to good to be let go.

So.. anyone in Texas. I have cash that is burning a hole in my wallet like this vodka is burning my open glass wounds in my lips. All I know is I need another shot glass that will eventually get shattered in some ironic fashion!

No comments: