The cruise down Highway 97 was fairly tedious, convincing me that a bike tour on that road would be suboptimal. I rolled into Shasta City several hours ahead of ML, so I discussed our scheme with Richard, the Ranger who seemed to know his Forest like a book. He patiently explained the ideal route, taking pains to carefully annotate the tricky intersections and water resupply areas. Our tour would be a relative breeze, a little longer than initially planned, but a pleasant stroll through the backcountry. Satisfied that we had made a wise decision, I walked into the notorious Roxy's Vets Club for a few happy hour beverages.
It was just as I had remembered it: a cavernous place full of geezers and working stiffs bitching about their no-good kids while the grizzled Rose manned the bar with her gravelly whiskey voice. In other words, my kinda late afternoon joint. As luck would have it the flier on the bar indicated that Sapient (of Sandpeople) was playing a HipHop show that very night, with support from the Digital Misfitz. A few dudes were setting up some gear when a 50ish and thoroughly normal chap sat down beside me and ordered a Gin Martini, lots of vermouth, briefly swirled, no ice in a rocks glass, with three olives. Rose had a look on her face that said "You gotta be shittin' me". Clearly this guy had the makings of an asshole.
The fellow sitting next to Martini had to be 80 if he were a day. The Digital Misfitz assaulted the regulars with their brand of phat beatz during a brief soundcheck. Upon their conclusion the octagenerian declared, to anyone who was in earshot, that he knows how to play the harmonica, "mostly country and western. I don't know about this bullshit; I wasn't born in Africa. I was born in South Dakota, ever hear of 'The Yellow Rose of Texas'?" Before anyone could answer he played the tune on the harp he kept in his shirt pocket for such an occasion.
His passionate effort was met with uncomfortable silence, broken by Martini's haughty declaration of "That's all right, but I usually play the guitar at the same time". Not to be outdone by a pompous jackass, Geezer replied "I used to play a four-string banjo at the same time", picked up his coat, and headed out the door.
His only audience gone, Martini turned to me and began to engage in small talk relating to the Giants game on the TV. Since I don't give a rat's ass about baseball I completely agreed with everything he said, which was a terrible move on my part, since he then assumed that I was his bosom buddy. I learned that his name was Keaven (yes, he does spell it blatantly wrong) and asked the innocent question "What are you doing here at Shasta?"
"I'm preparing myself for ascension in 2012 by harnessing the power of the energy crystals that I buried out here in a past life. I aided St. Germaine, who led the effort to transfer the power of Atlantis as it was being destroyed in 999. This place was chosen for it's mystical powers, and I am here to put my full faith into them. St. Germaine, if you don't know, was the spiritual heir to Merlin and Christopher Columbus.
"You see, you should be thankful you are here now, when the heavens are in optimal solstice alignment to bring out the harmony of the crystals..."
At this point I was so befuddled I quickly grabbed a napkin and a pen and frantically tried to take notes on this nonsense. Some random gems:
"Pyramids have a manifestation rate of 137 times the normal rate..."
"You see, it's the Illuminati who control our information and have been keeping us in the dark..."
"You live in Portland, eh? I have to get you in touch with my good friend who is an Astrological Cartographer...he will pinpoint the optimal place in the universe to start a business or fall in love..."
"Don't you think how it's really weird that every time you look at a watch it says 11:11?"
"There is an intergalactic portal over Mount Adams that has been the primary gateway for extraterrestrial activity on Earth since the dawn of time. You know, our universe is the least evolved of all the universes and other life forms have been downloading information to our world as soon as they feel we can handle it. If we are on the same evolutionary plane as them, there will be peace and harmony throughout all the universes. How else can you account for the technological leaps of the past hundred years?"
"Hey look! My nephew just came into the game to close for the Giants. He spent the summer of 2001 with me at my condo in Hawaii...we had a great time. I actually wrote a song about his life to the tune of 'Cat's in the Cradle.' My music business connections think it has the potential to be the best baseball song since 'Centerfield'."
I finished by beverage and got the hell out of there. This is his actual business card:
ML rolled into town at sunset like a hero of the American West. "So did you scout out an awesome campsite for us tonight? And did you talk to a Ranger about our plans?""The biking will be no sweat, maybe some tricky intersections. I was going to find a place to camp, but I ended up talking to this guy..."
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