B. B. King for Christmas

For a Christmas present this year, Julie presented me tickets for the B.B. King concert at the Route 66 Casino, three days after Christmas day. I have never been so excited for a concert and without a doubt it was the best present I had ever received. I love his music like my dad did Louis Armstrong.

We got to the night and Julie got directions off of that paragon of accuracy, MapQuest. It said in essence, go west on I-40 to exit 149, get off, go across the interstate and continue west to the casino on the frontage road. Never mind the fact that we saw a sign that said the casino was at exit 140, we blindly followed the instructions and indeed there was a frontage road. However, instead of a 4 mile jaunt to the casino, the frontage road was more like ten miles long. It first became a two lane dirt road with some warnings about the prison nearby. Then it petered down into a one lane dirt track that dead ended, plunging into the Rio Puerco, chasm!

Another driver had evidently used the same tool and was lost with us. He said, “There is an, ‘underpass,’ back up the road about a half mile…” We decided to give that a try and so we headed back. The underpass, turned out to be a large concrete culvert that did indeed allow our passage and lo, and behold on the other side we found Route 66. We managed to get to the concert to hear B.B. King’s amazing orchestra for a couple of songs and then he came out.

The concert was amazing and I could not get over the sounds that came for that 82 year old man! He had to sit but he is the consummate showman. I am grateful to have heard him even at this stage of life. I am even more grateful that we did not wind up at the bottom of the Rio Puerco…

Flight Terrors

I managed to get an upgrade on the flight from Buenos Aires to Dallas and I got settled in, next to a poor and relatively young sap from BA on his way to the US for business. I had the opportunity to pick a movie that I would not see under other circumstances because of its, "R" rating. On the American Airlines movies the more offensive parts have been edited.

This movie was one of the new movies made on a Stephen King short story and I have forgotten the name of it already. It had something to do with a room number. A horror movie about an evil hotel room, they certainly seemed to keep the most terrifying bits… At least it was very scary. Really, beyond that, I have little more to say about the film itself.

The film ended and this plane had the seats that recline into beds and I went to sleep, unscathed by the flick…or so I thought. At some point in the night, I was awakened by a nightmare, apparently thanks to the film. I sat forward fully intending on one of my howling screams but thankfully, only came out with a very breathy; “WHOOOOHHFFF!” repeated a couple or three times.

My pretty much unacquainted voyage mate was apparently startled out of his tranquil rest or reverie by my gasping lunge forward. He patted me on the back with Argentine reassurances and soothing words of, “Está bien, está bien, tranquilo…” I vividly recall, looking at him with foggy, dead dolls eyes and then I lay back down and drifted back to sleep.

I forgot all of this upon our arrival, what with all of the activity of getting through immigrations and customs. I did not recall my unfortunate travel companion’s comforting efforts. When I did, I could not but pity the poor fellow and laugh at his doubtless discomfort after his night next to a terrified and probably, terrifying gringo. I told Julie I figured he would be pretty well scarred for life, haunted with his own true night terrors on his memorable flight from Buenos Aires.