small world

The Chool Bus (ch25)

CHAPTER 25: After a hair-raising taste of narco-political street chaos, the Forks finally make it to Vegas. But none of them survived the day unfazed.

Decompressing that first night in Las Vegas, Billie opened her laptop for some virtual sightseeing and to give her father an update on her adventures with the Forks. But that wasn’t the full story as she had this nagging growth gaining in size and pressure in her bosom with each passing day. 

TO: Daryl (Dad) Schmidt
FROM: Billie Schmidt
SUBJECT: Mayhem South of the Border

Hey, Pops…

By now you’ve probably heard the news from Mexico. I want you to know we were never in any real danger, but gunplay did get a bit close for comfort. We were enjoying some small world conversations with a bunch of New Zealanders enjoying a port-of-call visit. You should have seen the look on their faces when the sounds of gun play wafted into the cantina. By then, our waiter had translated the general “shelter in place” order. It seems no one warned them (the Kiwi tourists) this kind of thing could happen so close to the US border, but here we were. Talk about a buzz kill… 😉

Truthfully, i wasn’t scared. You know me…i’m a troubleshooter. But the new guy, Buck…he impressed me as someone who never walks into a strange situation without scoping escape routes or items that might make effective self-defense weapons. He reminds me of…me in many ways, and frankly that scares me a bit. Sometimes i get kinda choked up when he snaps into guardian mode. And now, for God’s sake, when i hear certain music. You know, that high lonesome sound, it reminds me of that big Texas lug and i go all a flutter, feeling kinda empty and babbling. You know that’s not like me. I guess this all means something, not sure what, but don’t be surprised if i end up bringing him around for your inspection. 

With all my heart,
                        Billie

P.S. You know, New Zealanders love to mess with tourists. For example, one of them tried to tell us there was a secret underwater tunnel connecting New Zealand to Australia, another tried to tell us native Kiwi birds are ground up for meat in fast-food burgers…duh…everyone knows Kiwi birds are a protected species. And so…the clueless tourist jokes were on them when the dookie hit the rotating air displacement blades…it would have been funnier if the locals didn’t seem so uncertain of the outcome.

Billie’s father was relieved to hear from her. He had seen news reports of unrest south of the border, but he had hoped the gang would stay away from the worst of it. And they did, but some of the minor skirmishes had occurred too close to the tourist centers for comfort. And Billie’s mention of having feelings for the new guy gave him a strange sensation. Almost as if his soul was exhaling after all those years of holding his breath for her. Ever since she came out to him, he worried she would never find the kind of love he had been lucky enough to experience with her mother. He had seen Billie’s lovers come and go but he never sensed there might be a future with any of them, but her email gave him hope.

TO: Billie (Pumpkin) Schmidt
FROM: Daryl Schmidt
RE: Mayhem South of the Border

My Dearest Daughter…

Thank you for taking some time to put our minds at ease. We saw the news reports, and though most of the really bad news was coming from areas further south, i know there is a thriving arms trade at the border. I know those guns are going to cartels and their rivals, so quite frankly, i wished you and your bat-shit crazy friends would just leave the border uncrossed. That said, i also agree with Mark Twain, you know, that stuff about travel being the best cure for bigotry.

Holy Hell! What’s a worried father to do?

Anyway, it sounds like you’ve found a kindred spirit in that Buck Wellstone fella. I would love to meet him, even if these feelings don’t progress into something more serious. He sounds like a stand-up guy. The story of how you met him, really stands out in my memory. The way he was able to deescalate that dust up with your professor friend really impressed me. So yeah, bring him around at your earliest opportunity. In the meantime, we’ll just keep on keepin’ on here at the dealership. Things are slowing down a little with all the inflation and volatility aggravated by the Orange Casino Slayer. 

You know, i’ve always respected the Iranians. Their society is thousands of years old, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. Yes, nuclear weaponry is a potential species killer, but if Iran’s enemies have the bomb, why the hell do we think it’s important one of the oldest still-functioning societies should be prevented from having that particular method of self-defense? It’s only fair. Of course, i won’t be able to develop any hope for the human species until such time as we are able to work together WITHOUT those ultimate doomsday devices, mutual deterrence notwithstanding…but i digress.

Thank you for the update… 

Love from home…
            Papa Schmidt

NEXT WEEK:
The Forks go separate ways in Vegas and Jack Dean crashes out after attending a session concerning Chinese Artificial Intelligence research achieving major progress on the cheap.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch24)

CHAPTER 24: The detour to Ensenada is ill timed as the Mexican Government cracks down on a notorious cartel kingpin and all hell breaks loose.

Rolling into Mexico at Tijuana was an eye-opener for Billie and Buck. The long lines of vehicles were met with street vendors, flowers, jewelry, mariachi singers, hand-made trinkets, and much more for sale, some of the vendors, small children, each with their own unique pitch. “What the hell?” said Billie. “That kid can’t be more than ten-years-old. He’s selling balloons like they’re goin’ outta style.”

“Right,” said Buck. “Gotta love unrestricted capitalism. Seems kind of messed up to me, but i’m sure there’s a reason for it.”

Billie shrugged. “But…they’re everywhere. Maybe the cute kids and the little old abuelitas are the best border vendors… i just hope those kids have a safe place to go at the end of the day.” Billie was feeling a little emotional about young kids out there soliciting the gringos in their fancy cars. Billie was thinking about the migrant families she knew in Kansas. That is before the ICE-cold goon-squads started sweeping them up and shipping them off to El-Salvadore. She couldn’t imagine any of those kids among the long lines of cars with god knows what kind of psychos driving them.

Once through the border gauntlet, The Forks made their way along the Mexican coastal highway, a little over an hour and a half to Encenada where Professor T, on the advice of a US Navy veteran, steered Billie and the Chool Bus to a popular cantina. The cantina was within walking distance of a cruise ship docking area so lots of people from around the world come and go.

After finding a place to park the bus for an overnight stay, the gang made their way to the cantina. Once seated, they struck up a conversation with a group of cruise passengers from New Zealand. Turns out, one of the New Zealanders had spent a few years in the Denver Tech Center working for an engineering firm. He knew several of Jack’s Denver friends, and so the Forks and Buck found themselves at a raucous table of jabbering small world stories. Jack noticed a “bachelorette party” special on the menu, and suggested pooling resources. 

“You can really tie one on here,” said Mort T… fifty beers, a bottle of Don Julio 7, and a plate of guac and chips at the table…a bangin’ party for ten people. Five beers, a shot, and some guac for good measure… not that cheap, but super convenient.”

So Jack passed the hat, ordered up the special, and the party began in ernest. Around the time this impromptu group started giving way to slurred conversations, a small team of federales entered the cantina. They spoke with the manager in hushed tones for a moment, then left abruptly for the next-door business. Presently, the manager made an announcement that there had been a raid in a nearby town where the government targeted a narco-kingpin, killing him and his family and others. The response was spreading like wildfire. Buildings were bombed, vehicles torched, rival gangs were joining the chaos, and battle was breaking out all over the land.

“Damas y caballeros,” the cantina’s public address system amplified the manager’s voice. The waiter translated for the Forks’ table… “We have been advised to encourage everyone to shelter in place until this wave of retaliation subsides and it’s again safe to go out on the streets.“

“Holy crap!” Buck seemed almost excited about the development…scanning the Cantina for escape routes and hiding places. He decided to save the beers for later when a loud explosion shook the table.

Buck made his way to the window to see if he needed to go into fast-action mode. But the smoke was several blocks away.

Just then several pops, like black-cat fire crackers cut through the din, and Buck saw a couple of dark figures a couple blocks away. It looked like they were exchanging fire with a group of federales taking cover behind a black SUV. This is where someone from the New Zealander party directed the gang to hide in a dry goods pantry. A couple other parties joined them and twenty-five souls huddled together among the bags of pintos, cans of tomatoes, and bins of dried peppers. No one was feeling safe and everyone was sobering up, fast.

“Relax, everyone.” said one of the New Zealanders. “They won’t attack the cantina. They don’t want to hurt the tourist trade. I asked the manager if there were any cartel types hanging around. He didn’t think so…hopefully he’s right and we can get back to the ship unmolested.”

After a couple hours of tense waiting, the manager announced the danger had passed. The attacks in or around the area were few, but the gang passed a couple burning vehicles and there was evidence of gun play, spent casings, pools of blood, crime-scene tape, and local emergency responders running to and fro.

The Forks made their way back to the bus… feeling fortunate the action hadn’t got closer. It was a tense ride back to the RV park in San Diego and no one slept easy that night… definitely one to remember.   

NEXT WEEK:
After a hair-raising taste of narco-politics and street carnage, the Forks finally make it to Vegas. But none of them survived that day unfazed.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links