Coronado Dreaming (The Silver Strand Series) (21 page)

It was almost like we were in the dust with the bulls and the horses, the cowboys, cowgirls and clowns. I could see that the animals were every bit as strong and potentially as dangerous as the lions from that morning; the film was so realistic that you could almost smell the sweat and feel the heat and vibrations produced from hundreds of pounds of sinew and muscle thundering past.

I noticed similarities in the overall set-up of the ring compared to the Babylonian stadium from over 2000 years ago. I suppose elevated stands around a center of entertainment are somehow embedded into our genetic codes… judging by the multitude of football, baseball and soccer stadiums around the world. All of our arenas are most probably throwbacks to that earlier era, although the activities in modern centers are tamed down somewhat from the bloodthirsty times gone past… at least, a little bit. After learning about a game known as ‘Bull Poker’, though, I have my doubts. Four men sit at a poker table, ostensibly playing cards, as an angry bull is released into the ring. Apparently, the last one at the table wins. It’s like a game of chicken, except one of the chickens is a thousand pound Brahma bull with an attitude and horns.

I can’t imagine that participants in this particular sport have very lengthy careers.

As I sat there watching the culture that had developed during the taming of the American West, I was struck by how different it was from any other type of culture in the world. The boots, the hats, the spurs and other paraphernalia worn by the participants were part and parcel of a unique world view shared by most of the people in attendance at the rodeo. It seemed strange that all of that had come out of a period in history that was relatively short-lived as far as historical periods go… also, I found it strange that the people who helped create and define that culture were mostly imported from other countries.

Germans, Spaniards, Italians, French, British, Polish and a plethora of others were all amalgamated into a group with a completely new identity and set of rules. Even imports from other far flung parts of the world were involved. Africans, Middle Easterners, Asians and Indonesians… not to mention home-grown Native Americans… were all transformed into new animals… cowboys and cowgirls. Many of the people couldn’t have been more than a generation or two removed from their countries and cultures of origin, but were almost unrecognizable as the progeny of such.

The fluidity of humanity was interesting to contemplate. How quickly we adapted and changed. Social evolution was on display, and I couldn’t help but wonder how changed we would be in future generations. How different would our descendents be on other worlds, in other solar systems, other galaxies? Would bits and pieces of our cultures from Earth still remain, carried forward like snippets of common DNA into the organisms of the future? Would there still be stadiums and contests and danger?

Somehow, I felt certain that there would be. I let the scenes and sounds of the IMAX wash over me like a salve, soothing me with images from our present time. I don’t know why it was comforting… it just was.

After the film, we made our way back out into the
San Diego
afternoon and I noted how the people milling about and enjoying the day comprised their own subset, their own culture. Casual, laid back, appreciative… influenced and nurtured by the weather, the ocean and the dry,
Golden
State
land. It occurred to me that we are all shaped by unseen forces, and that people, like words, can have many definitions.

Giddeon put on some sunglasses that I’m sure he didn’t bring with him. They gave him a very Californian look.

“Let’s go get some rest. We’re going out, tonight,” he informed me.

“We are? Where?” I said.

Boris and I decided to take an afternoon nap in my bed. Evidently, he had forgiven me for smelling of lions and acting like a fool with
Gid
, earlier. I stretched out on my back and he curled up in my chest; his tail gently swished back and forth from out of my torso.

I could hear him softly purring as I, too, drifted off to sleep.

__________

I awoke in a new pair of Levi’s, along with cowboy boots and a belt… a belt that sported a gigantic buckle. In addition, I had on a neatly pressed, white, long-sleeved shirt. I sat up and saw Giddeon in similar attire, although his shirt was striped with pastel mauve, green and blue. He had on a cowboy hat… I’m uncertain of how many gallons it represented. I felt one appear on my head, also. I looked back and forth between us.

“Really?”

“You’ve got to get the whole experience. Flip flops and a t-shirt won’t do. Cowgirls go crazy for a sharp dressed man.”

“That’s from a rock song, and they can’t see us, anyway.”

“Details. Loosen up. You can’t dance with a board up your butt.”

I consented. “Okay, okay. Let me brush my teeth.”

“That’s not necessary, you know.”

“Neither is this ridiculous get up.” I made my way to the bathroom, ducking a bit so my headwear wouldn’t scrape the ceiling.

“Touché,
padnuh
.”

I shook my head and checked out my hat in the mirror. I actually kind of liked it. Stomping around in my boots and tight fitting jeans, I did feel a bit different; I found it odd how a ‘uniform’ can affect one’s psyche. I brushed my teeth and considered shaving, but, since my stubble seemed like it was never more than a day old, decided against it. The little bit that was there seemed to fit with the new look. I came back out into the belly of the boat.

“Let’s ride.”

I suppose Giddeon took me literally, because we left the Catalina and headed for the Focus.

__________

Line dancing lessons were in full swing. Guys and gals were in long rows on the dance floor, where most were attired in a fashion similar to me and my Western counterpart. Country music blared from ceiling mounted Klipsch speakers, and the people before us were moving back and forth like an undecided school of fish. We watched for a while as Giddeon and I absorbed the mechanics of the motions. I took note of how clean the air was; there’s a ban on indoor smoking in
California
. For some reason, I had pictured smoke… in my mind, there seemed like there should have been smoke from cigars and cigarettes. That’s what you always saw in Western movies. If you want indoor smoke around here, you have to go into a Casino owned by the Indians.

I find that somewhat ironic.

We stepped out onto the dance floor and positioned ourselves at the end of a line. Giddeon was beside a cute cowgirl with curly brown hair and a red bandanna around her neck. In front of me were a leggy brunette and her date. The instructor showed the next set of moves, and we all practiced it in place. Then, the music came on… a song about how a guy’s girlfriend thinks his tractor’s sexy. Gid and I easily reproduced the steps and I spent most of my time as I went through the dance focused on the lyrics of the song, which I thought were quite good. Giddeon spent most of his time watching the curly-headed cowgirl next to him.

There was something primal and reassuring about flowing with the group. Another song came on and we repeated the dance, just to make sure everyone was fairly proficient with the moves. Most were; some struggled… usually they were guys…but, all in all, I don’t think the majority of the people there really needed the lessons. It was more of a social thing.

When the music ended, the instructor demonstrated some new additions to the steps, making things a bit more complicated. I was amazed at how easily I took to it, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Like I said, most everything was coming easier to me as time went on. With the firewall down, I think I had access to some of Gid’s processing power. I made a note to myself to actually work on a foreign language in the near future. I’d save calculus for later.

After thirty minutes or so, Giddeon and I went to a table for a rest. Two long-necked Coors appeared, and we drank our drinks and took in the atmosphere. He offered me some tobacco from a little round can and I shook my head ‘
no
’ emphatically.

He grinned, and the canister disappeared… he had just been having a little fun at my expense.

As we sat there, I noticed how well-mixed the country music was compared to a lot of the stuff you hear on rock stations. It seemed to me like there was more separation in the sound… more space between the notes.

“I think so, too,” said Giddeon. He obviously had complete access to my thoughts, then, which he didn’t seem to have had when I first arrived in Comaville. “I’ll show you the basics of Pro Tools later.”

He had referred to the gold standard of recording software. I had read about it a few years back, and had actually considered purchasing it to play with on my Apple laptop. The expensive price tag kept me from doing it… not a problem in Giddeon’s world.

“Cool.”

I sipped on my beer and looked around. I noticed the ratio of girls to guys was easily two to one… I had kind of grown accustomed to that in
San Diego
. I’m not sure why it’s that way. Maybe because it’s such a big military town and a lot of the guys are continually being deployed overseas. Or, it could be that women appreciate and are drawn to nice things, and, as cities go, this one pretty much qualifies as a nice thing. Anyway, as I was contemplating my theories, three more ladies were having their I.D.’s checked at the door. I glanced over and was very pleasantly surprised.

Melody, and her two friends.

They came in just as another song began to thump from the speakers. The trio of women went straight to the dance floor since none of them was carrying a purse. They instantly fell in step with the complicated dance, smiles on their fresh, young faces. Melody was in a form-fitting pair of faded Wrangler jeans, faux ostrich skin boots, a red blouse and a white cowboy hat. She looked magnificent. She also moved like a seasoned professional. I had suspected that she was a dancer from way back, and, boy, was I right. She could have shown the instructor a thing or two.

Gid
and I jumped from our seats and he let me have the spot next to Melody. He took the row directly behind the girls, where I’m sure he enjoyed the view. We lost ourselves in the rhythm of the music for several dances and it was quite surreal… almost like I was on an actual date with the woman of my dreams.

We all moved as one organism. I only wished that I could have reached out and touched her and held her hand. It would have been so nice to have been able to talk to her between the songs.

We spent the next two and a half hours spinning, stepping and swaying under the lights and music.

__________

When we got back, Gid and I went straight for the guitars. I had never written a country song, before, but after paying close attention to the structure and story lines of the ones in the club, I felt inspired. E, A and D… three chords, only. This was the product of my first attempt:

I took my Golden Years, just a little bit early.

What good is all that gold if you’re too old? Now, surely

You can understand…

I’m a right here, right now, kind of man.

You never know when you’re gonna ride in that hearse…

Life’s short, eat your dessert first.

I don’t delay my gratification,

I think right now is always time for a vacation.

Can’t you understand…

I’m a right here, right now, kind of man?

I don’t worry none ‘bout no rainy day…

Even when it’s storming, I play… Let’s play.

(instrumental chorus)

Life is for living, don’t you die before you’re dead.

I think this town could use another coat of red.

Don’t you understand…

I’m a right here, right now kind of man?

Times are good… times they could get worse…

Life’s short, eat your dessert first.

Eat your dessert first!

(chorus)

And, girl you look like cherry pie to me.

I’m foot-loose, and, are you fancy free?

What you say we dance across the floor…

And, when we’re done, let’s dance a little more?

When we’re done, let’s dance a little more!

‘Cause, I’m a right here, right now, kind of man.

Surely girl, I think you understand.

When you’re feeling blessed,

thank goodness you ain’t cursed…

Life’s short, eat your dessert first.

Life’s short, eat your dessert first.

Life’s short… so very short.

Life’s short, eat your dessert first!