If fucking hate El Paso...

[DCEPTCN]

...or, as the locals probably call it, "The shithole across the river from the warzone".    
    So, I had to jump a bus down here today to spend all week in orientation (aside from Thursday when I'll be rocking Whataburger in the hotel room). Up at 2:45 am, out of coffee at the house D'oh! Out the door with my suitcase by 3:15.
    At the Greyhound (blech) station at 4, ticket purchased. My bus should've arrived at the terminal shortly after security busted the kid near me with a joint in his cigarette pack (Please jesus, have him arrested....da mn) but of course was 30 minutes late. Oh hey, cool- it would appear that Greyhound subs this route out to an affiliated busline ("Leave The Driving To Us...Or Them, Whatever). Los Autobus Americanos. Super.
   Our driver doesn't speak a word of english, "Gobbledy gobbledy gook". Cool, I s'pose I could probably just go have a smoke in the restroom 'cause I haven't been given the notice that it against federal law. At least not in any language that I can understand. Scratch that, I'm sure he'll pull over at some point (he didn't).
   This bus is the Las Cruces, El Paso, all points in Mexico bus so it would appear that I'm the only person en route who speaks english. From all around me, "Gobbledy gook, gobbledy gook".
   Oh, thank heavens- we've arrived in beautiful El Paso and I'm enjoying the view of our lovely neighbors to the south, Cuidad Juarez. Yep, the hot little tourist trap that you've been hearing about, where severed heads in the streets are just part of the quaint allure. Bienvenidos!
   In the station, a Couple Of Color are having quite the ostentatious dispute, so I head outside to call Jose- the contact I've been given by the company for a paid taxi ride to the Microtel. I pull out a cigarette and am immediately mobbed by undesireables who all, believe it or not, have a really good reason for why they have no cigarettes of their own. Fuck off. Alright, now the phone comes out and Jose's phone goes straight to voicemail. It does the same the next 6 times I call over the ensuing hour...and every time I get the voicemail greeting all I can make out is "Gobbledy gook, Jose, gobble gobble".
   Hmm...I walk over to where the other taxis are and ask one of the drivers, "Hey, about how much is it gonna cost me to get to the 12000 block of Gateway West?" The response? "Gobbledy $40 gobbledy". "Alright, thanks" I say and I swear to god I can hear him all the way back to the station's front door, "You wan' go now? You wan' go now?"
   411, Yellowcab, "Where the fuck is this Jose guy that works for you?"
   "Gobbledy, night shift, gobbledy, home".      
   "Well then send somebody else over here and make sure they can get me a receipt so that I can try to get reimbursed for this!"
   The cab shows up and "You wan' go now?"-Guy throws me an indignant glare from across the lot. New cab guy insists that I ride in front with him. "Um....ooookaaaay." He tries to make small talk with me. There are two things wrong with this, 1: I'm not tipping you, asshole- there's no way that I'll get renumerated by the company for a tip and, 2: I DON'T SPEAK SPANISH, MOTHERFUCKER!
   "Where....um, where you are from?" he asks.
   "Near Santa Fe."
   "Oh....pre-sewn. Pre-sewn!" he says.
   "You must be thinking of the prison riot years ago."
   "You...were there?"
   "No, jackass- I've never been to that or any other 'pre-sewn'".
   Just accross the river from the highway I see the biggest goddamned flag I've ever seen. Seriously, this thing is big enough to see from 20 minutes away. For some reason (I guess) the folks over in May-Hee-Co wanna let us know how prideful they are. Awesome- keep lopping off kid's heads, fuckers.
   We get to the hotel and this guy asks, "You pay or is company pay?"
   "Company pay!" I smile and slam the door.
   So, my room was still being cleaned and I had to spend an hour in the lobby. Then I find out that these geniuses have put me up in a hotel that boasts a mere 25 minute walk to the nearest store (including over a bridge where you're literaly in a busy traffic lane! ). An hour of walking along the roadside (roundtrip), A burger in my cakehole and 'Dirty Jobs' on the TV and I'm one bitter tired old shit.
   Oh, and on top of all that I'm still ugly.

[Wrecked Em]

and I'm one bitter tired old shit.
 

[Zap]

...or, as the locals probably call it, "The shithole across the river from the warzone".

[DCEPTCN]

Jesus, I hope *somebody's* reading this.

Anxiety was killing me last night so didn't really get any sleep. Was up and in the shower hours before my alarm was set to go off. All showered and gussied up like a good little bitch, I was in the lobby waiting for my ride 45 minutes before the 7:30 agreed upon time. Pacing indoors, pacing in the parking lot. 7:20....7:25...7:35...7:50. WTF? So, I go back to my room and call this guy who's supposed to pick me up and take me to their facility. He answers and asks, "Didn't they call you?" At that very moment I had a pretty good idea where the rest of my week was headed. "Uh...no...?" As in, 'if they had, would I be calling you like a befuddled dipshit from the fucking hotel room?'. "Um, they called me this morning and told me not to bother swinging by to pick you up...(?)" Okay, so I'll just call my recruiter and find out why. With a dead cell phone and hotel long distant rates hovering around $16.95 per minute, thank god I had a '1-800' number for her.
    Good ol' Angelina in Phoenix answers the phone in that voice that heretofore I've thought was kinda sexy but now I'd like to hear gurgling from about 1' beneath the surface of  pond. I ask her what's up and she starts out by saying that she's been trying to reach me all morning. Yeah, all morning here in FUCKING EL PASO.  She informs me that sweet loving Werner put something on my DAC that wasn't my fault. No space to explain here, but it was a day worse than today in Idaho that came back to haunt me this morning. Our conversation was brief, but it basically ends with me finding out that there wont be a job with Knight after all.
   And my cell phone is dead.
    And it's nearing checkout time.
   And the company wont be paying for another night at the hotel. Fuck.
   The ex wife was just who I wanted to call (from the hotel phone, yikes! ) and ask, "Hey, remember that paycheck of mine that you were going to deposit in my account today? Maybe just get down to Smith's grocery store and Western Union it, eh?" Being as wifi's my only friend right now, I look up the nearest Western Union location to find out how far I'll be walking to go pick up some emergency cash. A mile and a half, huh? Not the *worst* news in the world. Oh, before I leave I'd better be sure that this particular location doesn't just do money orders or some shit. Ah, "Money Transfers", good deal.
   So, I walk along the interstate to Zaragosa and head south to the aforementioned location. "Sorry, sir- we only do money orders." Of course. And where might the nearest location be that actually does money transfers? "Ranch Market". Is that far? "No, only about a mile or two up the road. Super. So, I'm headed the next 'mile or two' up the road and all this walking is making my pants sag a bit (I've lost some weight, thank you very much). I tighten my belt and that seems to have been a good idea for a few blocks....but then I realize suddenly (which is the only way in matters such as this) that I've got a pond puppy on deck that's conviced it needs out. And now. Aw, christ- this is no time to need to 'make stew' as an ex-girfriend's mentally disabled father used to say.
   Walking a little faster now, I can see the sign for the Ranch Market. Oh thank god. But only thank him a little. Those of you who aren't in the southwest might not realize that a name like that denoted that it will most likely be an hispanic/ethnic store with case after refrigerated case of calf's brains and shit like that.
    I get to the customer 'servicio' (or whatever it is) desk and am trying to block out the accordion serenade that is ubiquitous in this sort of place. Ah, screaming accordions and El Diablo bouncing around in my intestines! The line is SO not moving. Accordions, pissed off bowels, line not moving. As is generally the case with demonic shits, I'm actually starting to get a little light-headed. I might puke, I might faint, but either scenario ends with me being a shivering heap of broken man on the floor in front of the servicio desk with a pudding splotch on my trousers. I can make it back the 3 miles or so to the hotel and commit this colonic blasphemy there if only I can get moving, I tell myself. But the LINE JUST WONT FUCKING MOVE.
   Delerious with the shits, no job and a long walk still looming I realize that the older I get the more I talk to myself right out loud and don't give a fuck who hears. I'm dizzy sick and miserable and the accordions just wont shut the fuck up so I mumble,

[DCEPTCN]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0ktKSRs6a4

[SuperSix]

I am indeed reading this - thanks!

"Mr Sylvan - I greatly appreciate your style and content, and would like to subscribe to your newsletter."

[Zap]

I enjoyed it as well. :-)  I  love to laugh at the misery of others, because I'm an asshole.

[SuperSix]

I enjoyed it as well. :-)

[Top Speed]

That was great!  LOL!!!

[DCEPTCN]

I only wish that someday I have to *make up* stoires like this. But, if tales of my own personal anguish and excremental escapades are what it takes to get y'all to post on my favorite board then so be it.

[Top Speed]

I enjoyed it as well. :-)

[Zap]

Men don't need excuses, boy.

[Zap]

I only wish that someday I have to *make up* stoires like this. But, if tales of my own personal anguish and excremental escapades are what it takes to get y'all to post on my favorite board then so be it.

Sorry, I'm still not posting on the cross-dressing midgets board.

[TSM Girl]

[

[Racer X]

Clutch performance.