This is another excerpt from my new book Bill Poss Travelogue, available at www.billpossmusic.com:
Without Fred, All is Lost
The last gig before the break was weird in that their were really normal people and absurdly wealthy people sharing the same space. It's a common California phenomenon and yet it remains weird. But that's not why we were all a little on edge. We were all on edge because after the gig, on the way back to our temporary home in Capitola, Fred would be dropped off at the San Jose airport and leave us to fend for ourselves. Big mistake.
It was cold and wet in the mountains surrounding Santa Cruz. We had driven from Rancho Nicasio (yes, THAT Rancho Nicasio) in a few hours and were debating where to park for the night. We were staying at a house, about a block from the beach (about a 100 yard walk down a park path), that our friend Barry had leant to us. It was a little tricky trying to back the RV into Barry's driveway even in the light of day, but at night, I was loath to even attempt it. Where the park path meets the beach, there was a park and a parking lot. Some folks had told us that we could just park there at night and we were willing to take our chances at 3 a.m. Even thought sign clearly stated "No Overnight Parking." I'm a firm believer that most bad judgement is borne out of exhaustion.
Meanwhile, Zinger was driving the band bus somewhere en route from the San Jose airport to Santa Cruz when he got a text from Fred reminding him to get some diesel. So Zinger got off the highway and searched in vain for diesel for about an hour before determining that he was not going to find any. Though the white bus has two tanks, neither has a working gauge, so it's hard to know when the tanks are low, unless you are watching the odometer. That's Fred's job.
So they had two options: get three hotel rooms or make a run for Capitola, 20 miles away. Zinger figured if he could make it over the hill, he would be home free, and he was right. But he didn't make it. The bus ran out of diesel at the top of the pass. The band (and Fred's daughter Jessi) was exhausted and Justine was sick. So Zinger called a taxi to deliver them to the house in Capitola, while he stayed with the bus to solve the problem. But things get confused at 4 a.m. on the top of a mountain and when the taxi got them to the house, no one had a key to the house. But by time they came to that conclusion, huddled in the dark and the cold and the rain, under the tiny awning at the front door, the taxi had gone. So they waited... for us.
We had the other key but, of course, we were one hundred yards away and sleeping soundly. They made a few attempts to text us and then waited. Matty made an effort to pick the lock, to no avail. Finally, someone got through to Barry, who came and let Kori, Matty, Justine and Jesse into the house and then (heroically I'd say) brought diesel to Zinger up on the pass. They primed the engine and got the bus down to the house around sun-up. Meanwhile...
The knock at the door was loud, abrupt, belligerent around 7 a.m. I knew it wasn't the welcome wagon. I threw on my pants and rushed to the door hoping to answer before they banged again and woke up Blue. When I opened the door, I was greeted by a couple of Capitola's finest. They didn't seem sympathetic to my attempts to keep the volume down. I got to hear a lengthy lecture about how camping in the beach parks is not allowed and how if every vagrant in America was allowed to trespass on the beach, there would be no room for the local residents, etc... After I told them about our situation, they asked if I was part of Fred's band. Turns out the same cops had been summoned a week earlier when we arrived at Barry's house and parked our vehicles on that exclusive real estate. They didn't ticket me, but told me to leave pronto, and then added that it was probably going to be difficult to do so because I have left the lights on all night. Shit.
They buzzed off before I could ask for a jump. I was extremely sleepy and not altogether together, and getting a jump seemed like an utterly impossible thing to do.. I approached the maintenance woman but she told me the city had a strict 'no jumping' policy where public vehicles were concerned. I walked toward the beach to get a better grip on my surroundings and when I returned, I noticed a couple standing at the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser preparing to surf. I started to approach them but as I did, the most unexpected thing happened: They both stripped down to full-naked and put on wet-suits. They were like photos out of a sporting magazine: lean, tan, beautiful. And naked. I ended up walking a Z pattern on the parking lot as I tried not to create an awkward moment by approaching them in their full state of undress, but when I got to them, I knew it was too late. They just sort of looked at me while I asked for help and muttered hiply as they stepped off toward the beach to surf. I was never able to piece together what they said.
But it just so happens that we weren't the only homeless people in that park. Some folks had done their legal research and one of them was hanging out in the truck next to the RV. He told me that you could park on certain streets all night and then when the sun comes up, you have to leave, because of the school buses and trash trucks, but by then you could come to the parks. So he had developed a routine. Turns out he was from Austin, TX and we had some mutual friends. So I got a boost from him and his little truck and it took a long time and I didn't mind at all.
We made it back to the house around 9 a.m. where we were astonished to hear the rest of the story. Zinger was just asleep by then.
No comments:
Post a Comment