2005 in Book Form

When I planned on retiring this blog, I thought it would be nice to capture all of the entries (the good, bad and ugly) by putting them into a book form as keepsakes for me and the kids.

Using Cafe Press, which I used to create the Goin' Out to Cally books, I created the first volume of the hard copy of Surviving in Safety Harbor which covers the entries in 2005. Since each book is limited to under 500 pages, I've had to break them into numerous volumes. Volume 1 will include 2005. Volume 2 will be half of 2006. Volume 3 will be the second half of 2006. Volume 4 should be able to fit 2007. And Volume 5 should be able to fit all of 2008.

Below I'm holding a test copy of Volume 1.

(Click for Bigger Pic)

Since, in 20 years, my kids and grand kids won't have any idea what a blog is, I designed the front cover as a blog entry.

The back cover is a mock-up of a web page that is used to enter blog entries.

Not the greatest designs from a mass selling perspective, but since they're for personal use only, I liked this design better.

If you're a masochist, like my brother Paul, you can order a copy online at the Sonlight Pictures store. I can only sell one book at a time, so as soon as my Volume 1 copies arrive I'll be removing it from the storefront and uploading Volume 2... and so on.

Cally on the Family Book Tour

I got a funny call from my brother Paul a few nights ago. It appears one of the few copies of the Goin' Out to Cally book I created from the blog entries on this website have been making the rounds through his wife's family. I only had a few printed, giving one to my Mom for her 80th birthday, one to Tim, my travel partner to Cally, and one to Paul, upon his request. The rest are for me and my kids.

Anyway, Paul let Joan, his mother-in-law, read his copy. Apparently, she thought it was very funny and gave it to one of her daughters, Mary Jo. Mary Jo read it, liked it and gave it to her sister Pat. Pat read it, liked it and gave it to Mary Jo's daughter, Amy.

I find it amusing that it's making the rounds in their family. The next time I see them they'll either think I'm very important or more of a freak than they originally suspected.

I'm guessing the latter more so than the former.

Only time will tell...

Now, if I could only get my brother's John and Stephen to get their bike trip from New York to Florida on paper.

Back in Bedrock

Nineteen years ago my best friend Tim and I drove across the country, stopping at a campground called Bedrock City outside of the Grand Canyon.

As my family and I left the Canyon and headed south toward Sedona, we found Bedrock City still standing, better than ever. It brought back a flood of memories. I called Tim from our approximate camping spot 19 years older and said "you'll never guess where I'm standing."

He couldn't believe it.

After my round trip down memory lane, we hopped back into the car and headed toward Sedona, a destination strongly recommended by Cathy Ross, the music director of our Lifeteen Mass at home.

Calling Tim from the Bedrock City.

The proof is in the signage.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 62, Where Are We Now?

It’s been over 18 years since that trip to Cally. Life has not gone as we had planned back then, but life rarely does. We had many surprises and challenges, exciting achievements and heart-broken disappointments.

Unlike our trip to Cally, life is about the journey, not necessarily the destination. If we spend too much time asking “are we there yet?” we’ll miss those magical moments that happen during the trip.

Tim and I remain friends… he’s my best friend, actually. We go to movies together, watch sports together and our kids spend a lot of time together. We compliment each other very well. He inspires me and grounds me and makes me laugh more than just about anyone else. He is the most loyal and generous person I have ever known. It’s an honor to call him friend.

Tim and Beth have since been married and divorced, sadly. They have two beautiful daughters whom I love as if they were my own. Tim intended his first marriage to be his last, so such an outcome has been particularly difficult for him. Tim also has another daughter from another relationship and she’s adorable and lovable and wonderful. Tim’s managed to move on in his life and trust the Lord will guide him as his journey continues to take unexpected paths.

Beth remarried and lives with their two daughters and two step-sons in Florida. Thanks to her I was able to get to convert our home movies from the trip to DVD and put some of the screen captures on the web.

Pete Producer finally got his film produced. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to secure Robert DeNiro, but he did get a Robert to play the part. Robert Urich played the lead role of Harry Spooner in the family film Spooner.

Pete also gave me direct and honest advice on my first two screenplays. Unfortunately for me, it was an opportunity wasted because my writing talents were not good enough at the time. Future screenplays would win me awards and get produced, but not because of Pete. Eventually, I’ve lost touch with him. When I look him up on the internet, I find his last screenplay was produced in 1998. I don’t know what’s happened to him since. I hope all is well.

Sunday and Dave moved to Los Angeles soon after our trip to Cally. Sunday went on to get numerous supporting roles in television and movies. She’s most notable as Olive, the cashier with the long fingernails on Seinfeld. Her character ended up dating Kramer, who had a persistent itch. Their relationship only lasted one episode as his itch eventually dissipated.

Sunday and Dave continued to date for another ten years before finally tying the knot. Sunday converted to Catholicism when they got married and I was last able to speak to her in person about seven years ago. She mentioned how she attended the same church as Gregory Peck. I was in L.A. in 1998 and was surprised to find the last phone number I had for her no longer worked. I haven’t talked to her in a long time. About once every six months I scour the internet to see what she’s up to. I found this headshots recently, which means she’s still pounding the acting pavement in LaLa Land. I am impressed by her passion for her art and so proud of her persistence.

Within a year after college graduation I would develop Crohn’s disease, which would end up changing my professional career forever. The disease eventually forced me to give up on trying to be an actor for a living. It was not an easy decision, but inevitable. Acting was the most fulfilling profession I’ve ever had. I miss it dearly.

I was able to work at Nickelodeon for a few years, behind the scenes, but eventually needed health insurance to manage my disease. I ended up retraining myself from scratch and am now a global technology manager of a $5 billion computer manufacturer. I fill my creative needs by making movies on the side and writing a lot… screenplays, short films, my blog and this story.

I eventually met and married my beautiful wife, my soul mate, Dea, with whom I’ve been married for over 14 years. Words alone cannot effectively describe just how much I love her. We have been blessed with two beautiful children. My daughter, Dorothea, who shares my passion for acting, my sense of humor and my love of film. My son, Gabriel, who shares my love of sports and my strong competitive nature. I have so much in common with both of them… I realize that I am one very lucky man. I am truly blessed.

This trip to California in the dry, hot Summer of 1988 was memorable for so many reasons. It was my first great adventure, the first great experience for which I was uniquely involved. It had romance and drama and thrills and spills and hopes and dreams and pain and suffering. It was the first story of my life worth telling and its taken eighteen years for me to finally get it down on paper.

Goin’ Out to Cally was a journey where my world expanded and my dreams were forged. It has remained carved in my memory, where it will stay, for the rest of my days.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 61, And So It Ends…

As we pulled into Sunday’s apartment complex her face suddenly changed. The muscles that had been holding back anger and frustration and disappointment had relaxed and she was, again, beautiful.

I helped carry her massive luggage back into her apartment. We shared a long hug and we said our goodbyes. Sunday, the fourth wheel who inadvertently joined our trip, had become a source of frustration for all of us. She started out as an acquaintance and ended up being my only friend on this trip.

In an very odd way, Sunday and I had become more distant and closer at the same time.

Amongst all of the flirting and confusion and anger and miscommunication, Sunday and I had bonded in a way no one else could ever share. There is something about living through an experience that gives you an unbreakable bond. No matter how hard we could ever try to explain the journey we had just experienced it would never capture the scope of actually living through it yourself.

As we drove away and headed toward Wildwood, the last chapter of our trip was finally being written.

The back seat of the car was lighter and the foot room was available for the first time since we packed Sunday’s luggage almost three weeks earlier. However, even Sunday’s departure could not mend the great divide that had been chiseled between Tim, Beth and me.

Once we hopped onto I-75 South I watched with great anticipation as each mile marker passed, each representing a mile closer to Wildwood, a mile closer to freedom. Considering I was so anxious to get home, I was surprised a just how fast the last hour of the trip passed. Usually, when you want time to speed up, it slows down. Fortunately for me, the opposite was true.

As we pulled into the large gas station at the midpoint between Gainesville and St. Petersburg, I could see Paul waiting patiently in his small tan Toyota Tercel. Seeing Paul there was probably the closest I’ll ever get to the sense of seeing a knight in shining armor. He was my salvation, my escape, my freedom from the hell I had created by suggesting we go on this trip in the first place. He was my Get Out Of Jail Free card.

With newfound energy and focus I unloaded my belongings into the back of Paul’s car, gave a quick and rather emotionless farewell to Tim and Beth, then strapped myself into the front seat and relaxed for the first time in three days.

Tim and Beth departed one way, Paul and I in the opposite direction. It would be the last time I would see or speak to Tim or Beth for over a year.

As Paul and I merged onto the interstate he made the mistake of asking a very simple question.

“So, how was the trip?” he said.

With that simple statement the floodgates of opinion and conjecture and anger and judgment and relief and disbelief and sarcasm opened and the story spewed from me in a non-stop flow of words and exclamations and convenient revisionism.

He found the trip so funny and unbelievable that he had me recount it to my parents when I got home.

I tried to write the story down a few times earlier. Once, right after the trip was over, I tried to recount everything in pseudo-journal form, but some of it was too painful to state. One of the goals I set for myself was to get published as an author, so I thought of using this sordid tale as inspiration for a fictional account, but that attempt fizzled out as well.

It was only now, some 18 years later, because I promised myself that I would write a daily entry into this blog for a year, that I have enough distance and skill to recount the story with any sort of consistency. However, I also know that 18 years have passed. Tim, Beth and Sunday may read this story and discount or argue with some of the details and they may be right. I can only go from my memory, as broken and fragmented as it may be.

So, all of the facts may be out of order or vaguely inaccurate at times, but this is my story about my trip to Cally, through my eyes, through my memory and through my interpretation.

I can say this… that trip to Cally, for all of its flaws and pain at times, is something for which I will never regret. We were naïve and stupid and unprepared, but we did it anyway. Sure, there were bumps in the road, but the important part was that we took the journey.

I wish I could un-know a lot of what I know about life and the world and consequences. I often think if I was a little more stupid about things, I would have accomplished so much more.

And so ended the last day on our trip to Cally.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 60, Escaping Into The Wildwood

I don’t really remember much of the drive from Illinois to Florida. The only thing I can recall is, during one of the two remaining gas stops, calling my brother Paul and telling him to meet me in Wildwood so he could pick me up and take me home.

“Why?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you later. But you HAVE to pick me up, okay?” I asked.

“Okay,” he replied.

I knew that, after we were to drop off Sunday in Gainesville that the next stop was to be in Brooksville where Tim would bring Beth home. Knowing Tim and having experienced this trip I knew that we wouldn’t just drop Beth off, we would spend hours there recounting the entire trip… the same trip Beth had just described to her parents for over two hours on the phone in Illinois.

If I had to sit there and listen and wait and not be home I think I would have gone postal. I would have ended up in Starkey Prison near Gainesville with a roommate named Axel who fancied my shapely tush. My only escape, my only salvation, was my brother Paul.

Paul and I lived together my first year in Gainesville. He was entering as a junior and I was entering as a freshman. We stayed in a dark little mobile home in a darker little place called Shady Nook. It was a two bedroom mobile home that did not have cable television and in which we could only get two channels, the local PBS channel from the university and the local ABC affiliate. We would watch these two channels on a micro-black and white television while sitting on some of the most ill-conceived, badly implemented travesties masquerading as furniture one could ever imagine.

Paul was, at the time, engaged to Jean and during our first year, missed her terribly. He was often depressed and that only added a little more darkness to our first year’s experience at the University of Florida.

The only thing that got us through a depressing week at school was traveling home on the weekend. Paul would get to see Jean and I would get to see family and Tim and my other high school friends. They were my anchors that kept me grounded. I had not yet developed any significant friendships at school so these trips home were critical to our mental health.

Even though Paul and I had spent our entire lives together, we never really got to know each other until that year, until those numerous drives to and from Gainesville. He would teach me about chemistry and I would teach him about acting. I learned that he was far more creative than I ever knew. Growing up Paul was always a bookworm and I was, well, lazy and haphazardly approached school.

Paul found enjoyment in education, I found fun in fart jokes. We were so very different, yet we found commonality during those drives. Not only did we bond through shared experiences that first year, but we found common ground between us, between our interests, that we never knew had existed. I look back on those drives and they make me smile.

Paul and Jean would end up being my greatest fans. They were the only ones in my family to attend every single one of my performances while in college. Trust me, that’s love. Some of those things were downright painful to watch. But they loved me and supported me and they gave me strength to continue to pursue my dreams.

When I finally got into the Fine Arts College Paul and Jean threw a small party and took their limited resources and bought me a small Super 8 movie camera. This was a financial sacrifice for them and I was so touched. Paul, the bartender in that awful black and white video ten years earlier, knew of my passion for film and they bought me a tool to help make that dream come true. Later we would use that camera to shoot a very funny short film called The Term Paper.

Since our time in college Paul and I continue to talk about movies and chemistry. As we’ve gotten older we continue to participate in those areas of each other's lives. Paul reads all of my screenplays and continues to give me excellent feedback. He helped fund the shooting of our first feature film called The Box and he continues to be a source of inspiration to me. Through my day-job experiences, I’m able to share in his challenges as a doctor of analytical chemistry in the oil industry. Funny thing about business, no matter what you build or what you service, the problems and challenges are all the same.

And all of our history together was founded by those two hour drives from Gainesville to St. Petersburg and back, the mid-point of which was a small town called Wildwood.

And that is where Paul had agreed to pick me up and allow me to finally escape this nightmare that was our trip to Cally.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 59, Time Mismanagement

The long journey home through Colorado, Kansas and Missouri was as boring as the trek through western Texas, except this time our nerves were all frayed and exposed. Tim and I had discussed, prior to the trip, of trying to visit as many baseball stadiums during our journey as possible. Our first attempt in Dallas to see the Rangers play the Red Sox was nixed when we found out the teams were in Boston.

We looked at the schedule of the Dodgers or Angels while in Los Angeles, but none of the games coincided with the times we had not already booked. In San Francisco, we didn’t have enough time to watch the A’s or Giants play. And as we drove through Kansas and Missouri, our chances of seeing the Royals in Kansas City or the Cardinals in St. Louis evaporated along with our dreams of ending this trip on a successful note.

We finally made our way to Illinois and by seeing the world in five hour increments, which was the amount of time a full tank of gas would last, we knew we were three more gas stops away from being home. We were getting anxious to finally escape the Acura that had turned into a blue cocoon for all of us.

During one of our stops to get gas Sunday and I pooled our change together and had just enough to buy a loaf of bread and a small jar of peanut butter. We were less than 15 hours from home and we felt we could easily survive eating and smelling like peanut butter for the last day in the car.

After filling up with gas, Tim and Beth, whose wallets were stuffed with Sunday’s San Francisco cash, decided to stop at a McDonalds and indulge in a hit of McLunch before heading south. Or so we thought.

Tim and Beth entered McDonald’s while Sunday and I remained in the Acura meekly making our peanut butter sandwiches, struggling to get the little plastic knife to retain its shape as it tried to move through the thick, crunchy peanut butter. We looked up and, instead of finding our travel companions in line to get something to eat, Beth was on the phone talking to her parents.

Her body language and hand gestures were large and expressive as she was conveying her frustration at the current state of our trip. Sunday and I looked on, swallowing our anger along with the peanut butter, as the conversation wore on and on. Minutes turned to over an hour with Beth still on the phone, apparently recounting the entire trip.

I was furious. In the amount of time she spent on the phone talking to her parents we could have been home and she could have told them in person! Each minute that passed while we were in that parking lot was another wasted minute in the 15 or so hours that awaited us on the road. I was so pissed off I could have spit fire.

Sunday and I stewed in the car as two hours passed with Beth talking on the phone to her parents. Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand two hundred seconds… wasted in a McDonalds parking lot in Illinois. Shortly thereafter, Beth finally hung up the phone and, despite my overflowing anger, I was just happy to get back on the road. The sooner we got back home the better.

That’s when things got just a little worse, like pouring salt into an opened wound or, more accurately, slowly pushing a hot iron into your skull through your eye socket. See, after spending two hours on the phone recounting a trip that we had not yet completed, Tim and Beth decided that they wanted to eat something before they left. Could they have eaten while they talked on the phone? Sure. Could they have gotten the food to go so we could get on the road? Sure. But they didn’t. Instead they sat down and ate in the restaurant, the clock ticking, minutes passing, rage building.

At this point, I wanted to be home that instant, utilizing a Star Trekian transporter, if necessary. However, with such technology unavailable to me, Sunday and I just sat, waited and hated.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 58, Twenty-One Wishes

I was pulled from my deep sleep as the Acura jostled over a large bump in the road. I looked over to see Sunday staring out her window at the passing landscape, her eyes looking past her current surroundings to somewhere else, somewhere far away. She seemed sad, but I wasn’t sure why. I could only imagine it was the result of this trip, but I was reluctant to ask.

After a stop at a rest area where we all cleaned up, changed clothes and where I washed my hair in the sink, we continued on. The car was so quiet during this phase of the trip, but the silence had weight, substance. We all gazed out of the windows imagining we were anywhere but here. The stress of the trip was even taking its toll on Tim and Beth. Their allegiance in our game of Survivor was still strong, but even they communicated only when necessary.

Sunday’s melancholy continued as the day wore on. We passed Lake Tahoe and were heading toward Denver, Colorado. Even though the thought of adding more depression to this suicidal trip was too painful to comprehend, I was growing concerned about Sunday and finally asked what was bothering her.

“Today… today is my birthday,” she said quietly.

“Oh…” I said with both surprise and sympathy.

“My twenty-first birthday…” she said even more quietly.

Tim and Beth overheard us. “Wow! Twenty-one!” Tim chimed in, sincerely trying to lighten the mood. “That’s great!” he continued.

I thought quietly to myself… how awful for her. There are so few birthdays in one’s life that have epic value. Any birthday between one and 10 is important, then when you’re 13 you become a teenager, when you’re 15 you can get a driver’s permit, when you’re 16 you can drive on your own, when you’re 17 you can see R-Rated movies, when you’re 18 you can vote and get drafted, and when you’re 21 you can drink legally. Plus, turning 21 is an official kickoff into the long term journey of adulthood. There’s no turning back.

So, we were all depressed and empathetic to Sunday’s dilemma of being forced to celebrate such a momentous occasion in the middle of Colorado in a car full of people she had grown to despise.

The only positive about the event was that it initiated conversation in the car again that did not revolve around the immediate history of this trip, for which we all now hated. Sunday smiled a bit when she mentioned that she and David were going to have a quiet celebration when she returned to Gainesville. It wasn’t much, but it was the only part of the day so far that had given Sunday hope.

Our experience in Eureka had taught us that traveling across the country without a AAA Trip Ticket was not a good idea, so Tim and Beth found a AAA location in a run down mall on the outskirts of Denver. As Sunday and I waited in the car, I heard a little “pop” and found my shirt suddenly dotted with ink. It appeared that a pen in the passenger door compartment exploded from the change of pressure in the mile high city.

Sunday and I looked around the car for unopened soda cans or any other potential explosions. Under the car seat I found one can of Pepsi that had been unopened. Neither the idea of being doused voluntarily by opening the can or involuntarily by it exploding on its own appealed to me, so I exited the car and threw it away.

Just as I was about to reenter the car, I spotted Tim and Beth exiting the mall. When they arrived at the Acura, they pulled out a small stuffed animal and gave it to Sunday.

“I know it’s not a lot,” Tim said, “but, Happy Birthday.”

Sunday was touched, not only from the gift, but more from the sentiment. It shined a little light on the dark cloud that was our trip to Cally. She hugged everyone and thanked them. I was both happy for Sunday and uncomfortable, as the change left in my pocket did not allow me to participate in Sunday’s gift.

But, the important thing was that Sunday was happy, if only for a moment. I’m sure if she were to blow out her twenty-one candles she would include twenty-one wishes of getting home.

Fortunately for her, and us, as we neared Illinois we all knew were only three stops away from returning home.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 57, Succumbing To Fate

“What if he got out?” I asked.

“Yeah, what if someone dropped him off and now he’s on foot out there?” she replied.

“That’s frickin’ great!” I exclaimed.

Now our panic ramped up a couple of notches. Sure, being stranded in the middle of nowhere with a maniac after us, well, that was one thing, but at least the only thing we had to focus on was the headlights approaching us. With the darkness that blankets a desert during a new moon, the glow of headlights was about the only thing we could see. But now, under Sunday’s theory that our potential attacker was on foot, we now had to focus on everything… in a desert… in the dark!

Our eyes darted back and forth. We looked through the side windows and the back windows and the rear view mirrors and out in front of us.

“I can’t see anything!” I said.

“Me either,” Sunday agreed.

The length of the day was starting to get to me. Frustrated and angered from the events in San Francisco, I did not sleep well in the car. My shift behind the wheel started in a state of exhaustion over seven hours ago. Now the toxic combination of fear and fatigue had me near an uncontrollable collapse.

Just then Sunday screamed “There he is!”

My head swung to the right and I looked past Sunday, spotting a cow standing next to her window.

“Sunday… it’s a cow,” I sighed.

“Sorry…” she said with understandable embarrassment.

The sight of the cow and the momentary release from the pressure cooker of fear in our car that resulted from it put me into a state of exhaustion from which I could no longer recover.

“I… I can’t keep my eyes open anymore,” I said as I released my grip from the keys in the ignition and leaned the driver’s side seat back.

“If I die tonight at least I’ll die in my sleep,” I continued as I closed my eyes.

“Me too,” Sunday followed.

I looked over to her and our eyes met, both red from weariness.

“Good night, Sunday,” I said with a smile.

“You too, Pete,” she responded with a half-smile, then turned and closed her eyes.

It did not take long for me to fall asleep in the deep dark that night. I was so tired I didn’t even dream.

I awoke the next morning to find a sight I never expected. Somewhere between the maniac at the hotel, our drive into the rest area, our near death experience at the hands of a cow and finally going to sleep… somewhere in the night our rest area became one of the most populated spots in Eurkea.

As I pried my eyes open in the morning sun I looked to my left and, out of the driver’s side window, spotted a large recreational vehicle parked next to us, through which I could see the driver cleaning himself up from a morning shave.

“When did he get here?” I said to myself? I propped up the car seat to an upright position and looked around the rest area which now looked like a parking lot at a used car dealership. There were numerous cars and trucks and motorcycles and semis.

“Were they here all night?” I said with disbelief. “I don’t remember seeing any of them when I pulled into here.”

“See who?” Tim asked as we awoke from his fulfilling night’s sleep.

“Nothing,” I said.

About one hundred yards away, passed the cars and trucks and motorcycles was the now lit sign of the gas station… it was open.

I started the car and pulled into the gas station. Wanting to quickly change positions with Tim and Beth so I could get some quality shut eye, I offered to pump the gas if Tim paid the attendant.

The morning air was extremely cold. I shivered in my shorts and t-shirt as the cold wind whipped through my oily hair, the metal gas hose clanking repeatedly against the gas tank in the Acura. As the gas flowed into the arid, empty tank I looked over toward the hotel where our adventures in Eureka began.

The pickup truck was gone.

It made me wonder if the truck that stopped and stared us down only a few hours earlier was indeed our angered drunk. I would never know. All I cared about now was sleeping and waking to find that this once-hopeful trip would be finally nearing its end.

********

Part 57, (Text, Audio) - Part 56, (Text, Audio) - Part 55, (Text, Audio)
Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)
Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)
Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 56, Enveloped In Fear

With a near empty tank of gas stuck in the small bump of a town called Eureka in the middle of Nevada located on a stretch of Highway 50 with a large, drunk verbally threatening to kill us… well, things could have been better.

Our only hope was to wait until morning when the gas station would reopen. I pulled the car into the apparently vacant rest area on the other side of this small town, turning it around so we would be facing the direction of our potential attacker who would be coming from the hotel a few blocks down the street.

If the maniac was going to try and kill us, we wanted to keep an eye out for approaching cars. I sat with my left hand on the wheel, my right hand on the key in the ignition, one foot hovering over the clutch, the other gently placed on the gas pedal… if the maniac got anywhere near us I was ready to start the car and bolt out of there for as long as the gas would last.

Exhaustion eventually forced Tim and Beth back to sleep. Sunday and I were too afraid to relax. Our senses were heightened, our eyes piercing the dark night focused on the road, waiting for a set of headlights to approach.

“That guy was scary!” Sunday exclaimed.

“I know! It freaked me out!” I replied.

As I waited, keys at the ready, I kept trying to work through my options. There weren’t a lot. If the maniac drives up, shotgun in hand, what could I do? Drive away… to where? We don’t have enough gas to get us anywhere. Then we’d just get hunted down in the middle of a desert instead of at a rest area in a small town.

The only other option was to drive away and honk the horn, hoping someone would wake up and help us out.

Neither solution was a good one. So, Sunday and I sat and waited, our breath shallow with fear, our eyes focused, yet red with exhaustion.

“Oh my God!” Sunday yelped as a pair of headlights approached.

“Is that him?” she asked. I looked intently at the approaching headlights, trying to discern the possible motive of the driver. Was it a car or a truck? Was it a small truck or a semi? Was the vehicle slowing down or maintaining speed? Was it turning into the rest area or continuing down the highway?

“I think it’s a car, not a truck,” I said as the headlights continued passed us. Sunday and I took a collective sigh and enjoyed the momentary respite before our flight or fright instincts encircled our psyche again.

We continued searching the dark for a hint of growing illumination from anything resembling oncoming traffic. A few minutes later the white dotted lines in the middle of the road began to glow slightly as another vehicle approached.

Sunday and I again gasped and our muscles involuntarily tightened as our heads turned with the moving headlights as they grew brighter. We found ourselves literally holding our breath while watching the car draw near, then continue on down the road.

Our bodies again relaxed as the intense fear within us temporarily dissipated.

“How much longer until the sun comes up?” Sunday asked.

I checked my watch, it read 2:53 a.m. “Four or five hours, at least,” I replied.

Visibly shaken and with her voice trembling a bit, Sunday looked at me with wide eyes and said “I don’t know if I can make it that long.”

“We’ll make it,” I said, trying to reassure her, but inside I was just as frightened as she was. I had never felt so trapped before in all of my life. This great expanse of the Nevada landscape had suddenly collapsed into the small space inside of the car. There was no escape, there was no way out, there was just waiting to see if the maniac was going to live up to his angered threats.

I found myself empathizing with the kids in the movie Sunday told me about who were stuck in the mall. My mind was racing with fear and panic and overwhelming helplessness.

Just then, another car approached. This time the headlights belonged to a pickup, a pickup truck that matched the size of the maniac’s.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Sunday uttered in quick succession. “Is that him?”

“I don’t know,” I said, fearing the worst.

Our hearts stopped when the lights from the truck slowed as it neared the entrance to the rest stop.

“He’s slowing down!” Sunday yelped in a panic.

The faint outline of the pickup truck illuminated by the dim light from the new moon was visible as the truck slowed to a stop. It just sat there, the engine idling, the truck motionless.

My fingers tightened around the key, my hand reset the gear shift into first, my feet readied above the gas pedal and clutch. I was ready to take off in any direction on a moments notice.

The pickup truck continued to sit there as if it were staring right at us, right through us. We felt so exposed, as if the driver was purposefully taunting us.

Sunday’s and my eyes were glued to the truck only thirty yards away, waiting, each second passing with pain and enveloped in fear. Just when the burden from the weight of our increasing fright was about to overtake both of us, the pickup began to slowly pull away and then disappeared into the distance.

The emotional toll of the evening was about to break me. I could barely stand the pressure any longer. I leaned my head back against the head rest, trying to recollect myself when Sunday, in moment of clarity and paranoia, looking passed me to where the pickup was sitting idle only moments earlier, then leaned close to my ear and whispered...

“What if he got out?”

********

Part 56, (Text, Audio) - Part 55, (Text, Audio)
Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)
Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)
Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 55, Evil In Eureka

After struggling with sleep deprivation and its associated hallucinations causing random, erratic driving situations, my exhausted brain was tightly focused on the quickly fading gas gauge as it fast approached Empty. After forcing Sunday awake to keep me from killing us by plowing into the occasional head of cattle, she too was growing concerned.

God only knew how the delicate, volatile balance between tired friendship and uncontrollable rage would have tilted were to we have run out of gas at this point on our journey.

“Ten more miles!” Sunday exclaimed, spotting a sign showing the small town of Eureka possibly within our limited gas range. I unknowingly rung the steering wheel with my hands like a soaked wash cloth, my growing anxiousness getting the best of me.

Where, while crossing the Texas desert time seemed to adjust and slow from boredom, here, while riding on fumes as we approached the only gas station within a hundred miles, time seemed to almost stop from enveloping fear. My ears reacted in an almost bionic sense as I zoned into the variations in the hum of the engine. Was that a sputter? Did the engine slow slightly?

Every second felt like hours until we could spot, only faintly in the distance, a small collection of lights that formed the one stop light town of Eureka, Nevada.

“Almost there,” I said to myself, as we approached the quaint town, slowing the car to match the decreasing speed limit signs. The change of the vibrations of the wheels against the road and the softening hum of the slowing car engine pulled Tim and Beth from their back seat sleep, half-aware of the car’s decreasing speed.

“Where are we?” Tim asked.

“Some place called Eureka, Nevada,” I replied. “And just in time too, we’re almost out of gas.”

As we pulled into the small western town, it was after two in the morning. Almost everything was closed. We drove around the small town, but could not find an open gas station.

“Ask someone,” Beth chimed in.

“Ask someone what?” I replied, confused.

“Where the nearest gas station is,” she followed.

“I think we passed it and it’s closed,” I answered.

“Just ask someone,” Sunday interjected.

I looked at her with utter surprise. Did I hear that right? Did Sunday and Beth, now bitter enemies, agree on a course of action? And was not this the same course of action that almost had a fatal outcome in south Los Angeles?

“You want me to ask someone? At two a.m.?” I sarcastically replied.

Beth and Sunday answered in unison, “Yes!”

“Fine!” I said as I immediately found myself at the end of Eureka city limits, as the town itself was only a few blocks in size.

“The only place open was that bar back there,” I said as I turned the car around in a rest area and headed back toward downtown Eureka.

I pulled the car up to the tiny bar located in a small brick building with windows painted black. I turned the car off and sat there.

“Well?” Beth asked.

“Well what?” I replied.

“Well, go ask them,” she continued.

“You want me to go into a bar in the middle of nowhere at two a.m. asking anyone still sober enough to understand if they knew where we could get any gas?” I asked.

“Yes,” she stated with certainty.

“Then go ahead,” I said.

“You’re a wuss,” Sunday chimed in.

“Yup,” I said as many uneasy images raced through my mind, most of which consisted of me getting my ass kicked. I may be many things, wuss included, but I am also very pragmatic. I don’t do anything that has unnecessary risk. That’s why I never got drunk. It’s why I never did an illegal drug. It’s why I’m completely boring on many levels.

So, the idea of wandering into a strange bar located in the middle of an open range in a town I’ve never been in to tell the remaining inhabitants of the bar that I was from out of town and out of gas… well, that seemed fraught with disaster. Why not just tattoo “take advantage of me” on my forehead… the end result would be the same.

As the discussion on who would enter the bar grew more heated in the car, a large, intimidating man stumbled out of the bar. Sunday quickly rolled down the window, turned on the flirtation motors and said, “Excuse me, do you know where we could get some gas?”

“Gas? For your car? Well…” the man thought for a long time, “… the gas station is closed until morning. But, I have some extra gas in the back of my pickup. I’ll sell it to ya.”

We quickly discussed the option in the car and, despite my growing concern, Beth leaned forward and said “Okay.”

“My pickup is across the street at the hotel,” the drunk, big man said.

He stumbled and weaved across the street and we slowly crept behind him in the car, following him up a small hill to the parking lot of the undersized, cheap hotel.

The big man stopped by his pickup truck and examined some containers in the back. He then entered his hotel room, only to return a few moments later, making his way back to our car. He leaned in, his breath laced with alcohol, his eyes focused with penetrating invasiveness.

“Look, before I can sell ya the gas, I need to get my boss’ okay. It’s his gas, really, but he doesn’t believe me, so I need one of ya to come back to my hotel room…” he said, his eyes never leaving Sunday’s face.

Everyone’s discomfort rippled through the car as we realized just how vulnerable we were.

“No thank you!” Sunday said and rolled up the window as I put the car in first gear and raced out of the parking lot.

The man screamed at us at the top of his lungs with a deep and evil tone.

“Get back here! Get back here you bastards! I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get my shotgun and kill all of ya!” he screamed as we screeched onto the main drag of Eureka.

We were all upset. Frightened, I looked at our gas gauge then back to my travel companions, saying “What are we going to do? We don’t have enough gas to get to the next town. We’re stuck here until morning with that maniac after us.”

Everyone in the car remained silent as our options were limited and our fear was growing with each second.

********

Part 55, (Text, Audio)
Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)
Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)
Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 54, And Then They Got Him

As the gas gauge quickly approached Empty, my heart began to quicken and my palms began to sweat. I was now struggling fiercely with intense sleep deprivation and had slowly veered from one side of the road to the other on various occasions.

I was left with no other choice.

“Sunday!” I intensely whispered.

She remained motionless, comfortably asleep.

“Sunday!” I said louder as she slowly stirred awake.

“What?” she asked, still more in dreamland than reality.

“I need to talk to you! I need you to help me stay awake!” I said urgently.

“Okay…” she fumbled. “What… what do you want to talk about?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“I don’t care. Anything!” I exclaimed.

“Okay…” she said as she drifted back to sleep.

“Sunday! Sunday! Talk to me… tell me, what’s you favorite movie?” I asked desperately.

“What’s my favorite…” her voice drifted off.

“Movie!” I said. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“My favorite movie?” She repeated.

“Yes, what’s you favorite movie?” I asked again.

“My favorite movie? What’s my favorite movie?” she again replied.

“Yes!” I said, getting frustrated. I spoke a little louder and more slowly so she could grasp my question through the haze of exhaustion. “What-is-your-favorite-movie!”

“It’s… it’s….” she faltered.

I finally leaned over to her and with a very clear voice said “Sunday, if you don’t talk to me right now we’re going to die!”

Sunday bolted up. “What?” she asked, suddenly aware. “My favorite movie? What’s my favorite movie?” she asked quickly. “I… I don’t know.”

I rolled my eyes and tried another question. “Okay, then what was the last movie you’ve seen?”

“The last movie… oh! I don't remember the title, but iIt was about those kids who get stuck in the mall,” she responded.

“Can you elaborate?” I prodded.

“Yeah, it’s about these four kids who skip school and they do to hang out in the mall. You know, one’s the jock and he’s with his girlfriend and then there’s the jock’s friend and the girlfriend’s nerdy brother.”

“I haven’t seen that one. What happens?” I asked.

“Well, they sneak into the back halls of the mall, fooling around, spying on girls, shoplifting and stuff when, before they know it, they find themselves locked into the mall overnight,” she explained.

“That’d be cool.” I said.

“Noooo!” she said cautiously, “See there’s this guy, this freak who’s stuck in the mall with them. And they're trapped. They can't get out! They have nowhere to go! And this maniac, he follows them and hunts them and scares them and tries to attack them and…”

Her words hung in the air like a feather floating on unseen winds.

“And?” I pleaded.

She shrugged and said simply, “And then they got him.”

“And then they got him? That’s it?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah,” she stated. “Then they got him.”

I laughed to myself, partly because of Sunday’s retelling, but also because I was slap happy with exhaustion.

"Okay," I chuckled. "And then they got him."

I looked to the road and swerved sharply in a panic.

“Why’d you do that!” Sunday yelled.

“You didn’t see… something… in the road?” I stumbled as I tried to visualize what I had just seen... or thought I saw.

“No. There wasn’t anything in the road,” Sunday said with concern.

“Boy, I hope we reach the next town soon!” I said.

As I looked down at the gas tank, it had better be really soon or else we’d find ourselves stranded in the dark of night in the middle of Nevada.

********

Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)
Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)
Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)