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Globe

2007-06-25 - 9:11 p.m.

When I was dating that biker in Tucson I mentioned here once before, we used to travel in averages of 200-mile distances at a time, because that�s nothing in Arizona, and because naturally he liked to bike a lot. He had two tire shops and two Harleys and he had me for 10 months, till I decided I didn�t much like his narrow view of the world. It would just take too much work. I remember asking myself early on why I was dating a man who had a bumper sticker on the back of his truck that said �if it has tits or wheels, it will give you problems�. I think it was so I could educate him on why he should go tell the Kentuckians who raised him to go fuck themselves. He removed it, but seriously didn�t understand that it made him look kind of dumb.

Once we biked to Globe and ate at this dirt road restaurant that didn�t seem to have a name, and the big shine-faced men with t-shirts managed a few mild looks at us, then back to their meat plates. The waitresses were sturdy and big too, like Vikingettes. Also they were very bar savvy. I am in love with Globe AZ.

Their Dairy Queen puts waffle chips in their blizzards. And all kinds of other surprises! Then, close by, dusty tiny-legged men with moustaches and pants too big stagger and limp across the streets because they have nowhere else to do it.

The Latina girl behind the counter with the high hair and no expression seemed stunned when I asked her if she liked living there.

"No? It's so boring here, I'm leaving as soon as I can. As soon as I can get me a car."

"Well that's good but one day you'll miss making blizzards, you watch. Then you'll come back."

"Maybe. I don't think so. I go crazy here."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Phoenix."

"Phoenix is ten degrees hotter than it is here, are you sure?"

"I just want to leave here, I don't care where."

I can't believe they even still sell blizzards in any state, for some reason. One of the DQ workers had a layer of slick bluish glitter all over her face, artillery glasses and way too much black eyeliner. She was kind of slow, but not unlike a stunted comic superhero. I don't know which was better, her or the blizzard. Nothing affected her. I came out of the bathroom and she was standing in the middle of the floor, transcending the place very well without any props. She could've been transcending to another dimension, or possibly a concert that wasn�t really happening.

�Is there a coffee place near here?�

She turned, not to me, but to the other girl behind the counter. Then I realized she was thinking. Glittering like an alien but not moving.

�Do we have coff - coffee in this town?�

Then her polar (bear) opposite who was licking blizzard off of her arm said:

�Downtown they do. Downtown they do. Just � go past the high school...go past�the school down the road, then turn till you get downtown.�

�Ok. Anyone know which way I should turn?�

�Right.�

�Thanks.�

Which reminds me, I dated someone a few years ago that was so brilliant and funny and many nice things for the first few weeks, but I realized he was crazyfish when I wouldn�t tell him where to turn one time because I couldn�t think of one place I wanted to eat yet. He asked me to tell him where to turn about 14 times. It just made it worse. I could not only not tell him where to turn, the idea of turning anywhere seemed like a scary idea as he began to hyperventilate and eventually cry, saying

�TELL ME WHERE TO TURN. Just tell me where to turn. Tell me�tell -tell me where to turn. Tell me�tell me�tell me where to turn. Tell me where to turn. This is all your fault. Tell me where to turn. Tell me where.�

�I don�t know where yet.�

�Why won�t you tell me where to turn? Just tell me where to turn.�

�Ok, look. It�s not a big deal, let�s just go wherever. Go straight for now, I�ll find something, ok? Just calm down a little and we�ll be there soon.�

�You can�t�(*foaming at the mouth, seriously). You can�t do this�tell me where to turn. Why won�t you tell me where to turn? Tell me where to turn. Tell me where to turn . Tell me where to turn . No one�s ever done this to me. You can�t do this to me Tell, tell, tell�tell me where to turn.�

I DON�T KNOW WHERE TO FUCKING TURN! I DON�T KNOW! TURN RIGHT. GO TO MCFREAKING DONALDS, I WON�T MIND. EAT BREAD! EAT A PIGEON! JUST PLEASE CALM DOWN, YOU�RE SCARING ME. Trying to help you here! I�m going to get out of the car and walk home. You�re not letting me help you. Please please just eat a cracker or anything like a sugar packet.�

�If...you�if you�get out�of this car�I�ll never�I�ll never�never talk to you again. Why won�t you just tell me where to turn! You�re making me� tell me where to turn tell me where to turn, tell me where to turn why are you doing this to me?�

It was like someone handing me a limp cat and a classroom full of people insisting I killed it solely with my mind, five minutes ago, when all I did was just get up to get a glass of water. Did I have the power to turn a funny man crazy? I was starting to think I did. That�s misdirected power. If I could do that, there really was something a little off base at my core. Or his, which was what I decided.

��tell me�tell me where..this is your fault. Your fault.�

�I�ll get out of the car, and I�ll get you a piece of bread. Ok? I don�t want you to come undone, I�m going to come right back.�

�If you get out of this�.if you��

�You�ll never talk to me again, I know. I did this to you?�

�No one�s ever done this to me, you did it. You did it. You you you did it.�

I really liked him but I realized that this was a project that no human power could assist with, safely or in the long term. We drove back to my place in virtual silence except for his crying which I also decided was just slightly put on at this point. He was an actor too, which will never happen to me again. I walked upstairs to my apartment, got his laptop and his t-shirt, brought them downstairs, opened his car door, handed them to the kind empty seat next to him, walked back into the apt and realized that two of my friends had been sitting in my living room staring at me like I really had killed the class mascot.

�Don�t either of you ask me anything. Not one thing.�

A few days later, I spoke to him and he was completely normal, if that's accurate. I was afraid to bring it up, but I thought maybe I had imagined it, so I had to.

�So how�s everything?�

�Pretty good � I�m fixing my computer and Tom is here. He says hi.�

�Oh, tell him hi, too.�

�He says he liked your imitation of his Dad. He wants to know if you can imitate him, too.�

�Tell him I�ll try, but I can�t guarantee that kind of thing. Ha.�

�Ha ha. I know. So what are you doing later?�

�Hey. Quick question. What happened to you the other night?�

�What do you mean?�

�It got weird, a little. What happened to you, do you remember?�

�Of course I remember, you wouldn�t tell me where to turn.�

�You flipped out on me.�

�Because you wouldn�t tell me where to turn.�

�Are you being completely serious? That�s crazy!�

�You wouldn�t tell me where to turn though! Can�t you see that?�

I saw that I should stop talking now, for once.

I heard this appropriate story again recently, where a little boy is trying to get his Dad�s attention � but his Dad is busy reading the paper and doesn�t want to be bothered. So finally the Father gives him part of the paper, which has a huge picture of the world on it. And so he rips it up into little pieces and hands it to his son, telling him to go into his room and tape it together and then come back. He knows it will be a long time before his son finishes it, and it will buy him some time. His son comes back 3 minutes later with the entire thing taped back together perfectly. His Father is astonished.

�How did you do that so fast?�

�The back of the world had a picture of a man on it. So I just looked at the man and when I put the man back together, the whole world fell into place.�

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