college town

The Chool Bus (ch15)

CHAPTER 15: Billie and MollyG enjoy the steamy Clearwater Mineral Pool and Coeur d’Alene turns out bland as any mid-sized white-bread college town.

The gang decided to go separate ways for recreation in the Missoula area, Jack and Buck teamed up on a mission to experience the local flavors, that is, the local brew-pub flavors. Experiencing the people was important too, but, according to Jack, “a man has to have priorities.” 

Professor T held the Chool Bus down as a substantial backlog of business had accumulated since departing on this leg of the trip. He wanted it all moved to the outbox before heading to Coeur d’Alene for the next round of focus group interviews. 

By the time Professor T finished his morning necessaries, Billie and MollyG were making their way to the Clearwater Forest in Molly’s Mini Cooper. The ladies had been an item back in the 90s when the Forks were in their heyday, and though their breakup was mostly amicable, Billie suspected Molly hadn’t doused that torch. But as they say… time and tide. MollyG moved on, married one of her favorite high school party pals, had a fulfilling career as a social media strategist, her husband turned out to be a decent human being, and their kids looked to be developing mostly stable. “No complaints. Life is good, though a little predictable and sometimes kind of boring.” Molly was unloading on her trusted confidant and former lover. 

“I’m glad we could reconnect,” said Billie as the ladies eased a’la natural into the healing steam of the Clearwater mineral pool. 

“I often wonder what our lives might have been like had we stayed together,” said Molly. 

“Well, it wouldn’t have been boring.” Billie had the matter settled. “I’ve given this a lot of thought and like you, i’m inclined to go with the normie flow. I don’t try to hide who i really am, but when i think about the challenge of raising children, it would stop being so much about me. I’d strive to give my kids a clean runway into the world. And besides, if there’s a ring on my finger, the town busybodies will have fewer handles to grab when looking for someone to ruin.” Molly turned to Billie with a puzzled squint. “I know that sounds a smidge paranoid. Probably from traveling with a cyber security researcher.” Molly knew she was talking about Jack Dean, someone she had dated before meeting Billie.

“Right.” Molly’s memory bank was dumping Jack residue on her head like Nickelodeon green slime. 

“Like Jack always says, ‘just because your paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.’ Not sure if Jack or Curt Cobane coined that.” MollyG was a big Nirvana fan, but for her the quote oozed with Jack energy.  

The ladies had a pleasant catchup session, and by the time they were dried, combed, and scrunchied, Billie felt confident MollyG had made peace with her lingering desires. After getting back into their street clothes they remounted the Mini Cooper delivering Billie back to the Chool Bus and MollyG to the hearth and home of her little family.

In the morning, Jack and Buck regaled the Forks with some tidbits picked up on their Missoula bar crawl: First, the locals are proud of their rugged, slow-paced, wild-west, hard workin’ diverse heritage, meaning elements of the pale-faced pioneers and the great spirit native sentiments blend in a unique stew that places a high value on protecting the state’s natural beauty and unique history.

But then, the true aim comes bursting forth. You see, Jack is a beer hound, and some of the best brews, according to the Great American Beer Fest, can be found right there in Missoula. The boys started with The oldest brewery in town and the only German microbrewery in the Montana Rockies focusing on traditional lagers. They concluded the tour with a 12 tap pub serving artisan pizza, and a patio with a bird’s eye view of the surrounding mountains.

“Don’t mind me, i’ll just hang around the bus and do all the grunt work.” Professor T was feigning jealousy looking for a humor opening… failing to find one, with a slow smile, he assured the gang he was, “just kidding. In fact, i’m all caught up.”

“Maybe you can lighten up a smidge, yes?” Jack was acting like a jerk.

“We’ll see what we can do,” said Mork Thompson with Jack’s assholiness washing right off his back like water on a duck.

The trip to Coeur d’Alene was a bit tense given Professor T’s apprehension regarding the apocalyptic mood of the Great American Redoubt. He was afraid his research into the fibrillating heart of the divided nation might be misconstrued by these end-times preppers as having a political agenda at odds with their ideas about the future.

“Ah, don’t let it worry you.” Jack of all people was playing the voice of reason for a change. “I’m told their ravings are more bluster than anything, though i know their weapons are real. I once employed a network administrator to work in a Spokane office, but he lived on the outskirts of Coeur d’Alene. He invited me to dinner with his family. Seven dirt eaters, door slammers and curtain climbers crawling around the property like feral cats, but cute, yeah. His wife was a consummate den mom. She was able to whip those rug rats into line for dinner like a drill sergeant.” Jack took a bite from the breakfast burrito he had picked up at the grab-n-go.

“Tell Buck about his man cave,” Billie called out from the driver’s seat.

“Oh, yeah. Well, this guy was definitely strapped. His man cave was lined with pistols, rifles, survival gear, and some ominous crates in a dark corner. I asked him about those crates, about the size of a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, if he had one, that is.” 

“Woah!” Buck was paying close attention to Jack’s story. 

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I asked about them, and his response would have been funny if not cliche. He said, and i quote, ‘i could tell you, but…’ And that’s where my curiosity reached its end. I really didn’t want to know this about him.”

“Did he think you were going to leave it at that?” Buck was curious.

“Well, for all i know, those crates were filled with first-aid gear and supplies. None of it was any of my business. The guns i saw were all legal and registered. The evening left me the impression that he was an old-fashioned, be fruitful and multiply church-going, hard working American dad with enough ordinance to protect the brood in the event of an attack from a hostile force.” 

“Was he a good network admin?” Buck wanted to know.

“Sure, he never gave me cause to think otherwise. For all i know, he’s providing quality IT support for some other firm as we speak. But i had to block him on Facebook as he’s a prolific Christian doomsday ranter and it stopped being funny, so i really don’t know what he’s up to now.”

“None of this feels comforting,” Professor T was half listening to the conversation, and sinking deeper into an unsettling dread.

“You’ll see,” Jack was slightly amused by Professor T’s uncharacteristic concern. And as the Forks were packing the Chool Bus for the next leg of the trip, Professor T had forgotten all of those worries as the focus group and interactions around Coeur d’Alene turned out to be bland and pedestrian as one might expect from any Norman Rockwell world depicted in those Americana Paintings.

NEXT WEEK:
A different breed of preppers in Spokane, a visit to the Grand Cooley Dam, and a pilgrimage to the home of Grunge Metal’s birthplace. 

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

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The Chool Bus (ch05)

Chapter 5: The Forks recruit another member. Buck Wellstone applies for graduate assistantship and joins the project as Professor T’s aid de camp. 

The crisp morning air in Fort Collins was a refreshing difference for the Forks as each performed their morning necessaries preparing for the next stop. Laramie, Wyoming was but a short jaunt away, but no one was feeling rushed as events from the previous night were still ringing in their collective gizzards. Billie couldn’t remember the name of the good natured southern gentleman that intervened in the misunderstanding triggered by Professor T’s silly looking recording rig. But Jack did and he also recalled inviting Buck Wellstone to join the forks at a popular Laramie brew-pub once the focus group interviews were conducted and the Forks were ready to relax for the evening. 

“Buck Wellstone is his name and he’s interested in applying for a graduate assistantship in our department. He wants to join us on the tour,” said Jack.

“I don’t know if we can get through the application process quick enough for next semester, but we do have an opening,” said Professor T. “Did you say he was meeting us in Laramie?”

“Indeed he is,” Jack responded.

“Good. I can check on his eligibility on the road, and i’ll give him the standard interview while in Laramie. If his references check out, maybe…” Professor T was secretly hoping this would work out as Mr Wellstone had a refreshing positive vibe. Smart, funny, physically imposing, and genuinely interested in the research the Forks were conducting and the tight-knit camaraderie displayed by this motley collection of humanity.

The Chool Bus rolled into Laramie in time for the gang to grab lunch and get freshened up before gathering participants for the focus group interviews. And, as expected, the room was divided as the nation’s fibrillating heart seemed to be in this culturally-fraught era. But the session was conducted professionally and participants behaved respectfully. As soon as they got started, it was over. Participants went their separate ways and the Forks pointed the Chool Bus toward the designated brew-pub for the rendezvous with Mr Wellstone.

Now, the Forks had plenty of experience in Wyoming and after everyone was settled into a pleather-cushioned booth, each with their chosen libations working their social-lubrication magic, Professor T mused about a two-week engagement the band played in Riverton Wyoming in the early 1990s. In Professor T’s recounting, the gig felt like a lifetime trapped in a malfunctioning deep freeze. December in that desolate outpost was a symphony of howling wind and sub-zero temperatures, a perfect recipe for laryngitis. Professor T, at the time, known as Mork T,  fueled by a steady diet of codeine cough syrup and still clinging to his delusional dream of rock stardom, chased those nonexistent high notes across a well lit stage in a room full of barely interested strangers. Needless to say, it went about as well as a fleshy juke box in a dank, howling sauna.

As is often the case, one anecdote leads to another with this group so Jack, musing about post-Forks times, recalled a highly-unlikely story where he, partnered with a gonzo ski-resort co-worker, someone that went by the alias, Fozzy (for the sake of anonymity).

Now, this Fozzy character, a Laramie-educated electrical engineering savant with a graduate school acceptance letter burning a hole in his pocket, held a peculiar belief: That Laramie Wyoming, was a magical land where cops were blind to the transgressions of the gloriously intoxicated. This, of course, was a theory ripe for testing by these two nihilistic souls clinging desperately to the wreckage of their semi-feral animal-house-esque existence.

Imagine, if you will, a borrowed car (ownership and registration a fiction at best), fueled by cold beer (courtesy of the nearest liquor store), hurtling towards Laramie like a pair of wobbly missiles. The speedometer, a mere suggestion, registered a healthy too-damn-fast, a testament to their utter disregard for both the law and their own mortality.

Several beers and a vanished sunset later, they rolled into Laramie like banshees on Adderall. To their utter disappointment, the flashing blue lights so richly deserved remained stubbornly absent. Finally, in a moment of glorious absurdity, Fozzy managed to run a red light, narrowly missing a cop car pulling out of a parking lot.

“Well, this is it,” Jack chuckled, fresh with i told you so energy dancing in his eyes. “Busted… hauled off to the drunk tank, a glorious, self-inflicted martyrdom!”

The officer, a woman with a withering gaze that could curdle milk, approached Fozzy’s window. The story Fozzy concocted to explain their lack of documentation was a masterpiece of nonsensical bravado, worthy of a Bugs Bunny episode. Miraculously, it worked. The officer, perhaps amused by the sheer audacity of it all, subjected Fozzy to a sobriety dance (how he passed remains a mystery). Deemed sufficiently non-threatening, they were banished from her sight with a stern warning and a $25 fine, payable through a conveniently located after hours slot at the courthouse. And so Fozzy’s theory was field-tested and determined factually sound. Or perhaps, the officer had simply taken pity on these two hapless fools.

As Jack recounted this delicious slice of youthful debauchery, Mr Wellstone’s countenance danced between mild astonishment to dubiousness as he wasn’t sure how much of this was exaggeration or outright fabrication. As Jack was winding down, Mr Wellstone’s expression softened as he seemed to recall his academic advisor complaining about drunk drivers skating by with impunity in their wild-west college town. Jack swore the story was mostly true to a detail and since the rest of the Forks had already heard the story (several times), they vouched for Jack because they knew Fozzy, and the story tracked.

As the evening progressed, Mr. Wellstone made a strong impression on Professor T that he was serious about joining the Forks on their tour, applying for the open graduate assistantship, and eventually earning an informatics/new media master’s degree from their University. “I can’t promise anything at this time,” said Professor T, but we have room for one more on the Chool Bus, and your assistance was greatly appreciated in Fort Collins. If Jack And Billie agree we’d be honored to have you aboard.”

“I vote eye,” said Billie, with a sly grin.

“And i concur,” said Jack lifting his glass for a toast. With that, all raised their glasses and it was settled. The Forks had a new roadie and Professor T gained a loyal aid de camp.

NEXT WEEK:
Chapter 6: Where The Forks begin their time in Montana with a relaxing day in the steamy drink at Chico and Jack calls Bullshit on a wild Park Ranger’s story.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links