[sctx]

Originally Posted by Bumper

Damned straight there better be more...whoever you are!!

But I better not be seeing any more thinly-veiled threats directed towards my friend Scott. He's my hero, along with his youthful ward and sidekick, Don Julio.

Damn, being on a week long drinking trip in Playa and then being held hostage by agave hugging eco freaks and then having to deal with the responsibilities of a stacked up work and “Honeydo” schedule and then getting caught up in the confusion and general indecisiveness of arranging an event such as the PlayaCrew Texas River Toobin Regattas 1 & 2…. just doesn’t leave much time for working on a documentary (yes, this is a documentary…. It has just been proven by Michael Moore in the last week that documentaries don’t have to actually be based on fact, they can be based on one-sided mental snapshots in the head of the writer, provided the writer has been diagnosed with severe narcissism or is under the influence organic drugs…. Such as Tequila). But as I sit here and watch the 18th inch of rain to fall in my yard over the last month, I somehow find it more interesting to finish my story than to watch the rain wash away any hopes for my second quarter profitability bonus………. Where did we leave off…. Agave Liberation Front, on a plane heading to Jalisco, Shrill Boy… I think I was thinking about taking a nap…….

I drifted off into as much as a nap as I can possibly get on a plane… eyes closed, brain processing random thoughts of Selma Hayek pouring Tequila shots down her leg, one ear open, listening for any slight sputter of the plane’s engine. I was mentally on my 27th Tequila shot when Shrill Boy’s voice snapped me back into reality
“Look, look, you can still see some of the abandoned power lines down there”
I open my eyes and Shrill Boy and his 3 buddies are at the window staring down, smiling and “High 5ing” each other. What the hell??? Couldn’t these freaks have the common courtesy not to disturb Selma while she is pouring Tequila down her leg.
So I crawl to the window to see what is so freakin interesting and what do I see… some green mountains surrounded by desert, a thin brown river, a very small town, and what appears to be shiny cables leading from the town to the river…. Oh crap, it’s Boquillas, Mexico… that’s why Shrill Boy is so excited… one of the eco leftists greatest victories. Years ago, there was an attempt made to string power lines across the Rio Grande form Big Bend National park to a small poverty stricken town just across the river in Mexico. Being 150 miles from the nearest Mexcian town with gas and power, the residents of Boquilllas have relied on obtaining all their life necessities from the North side of the Rio Grande. Gas, food, clothing etc. has all been obtained in the U.S. for years. It seemed like a simple and noble idea to just run electric lines ½ mile across the river and help the citizens of this small village gain some semblance of modern convenience…. Simple, except for the fact that just twenty miles away, high in the Chisos Mountains, there is a small population Peregrin falcons. Now, what do Peregrin falcons and electric lines have in common…. Well, let the Sierra Club tell you…. There is a distinct possibility that a Peregrin falcon, depressed with his life of plenty in the beautiful Chisos Mountains, may actually fly down from the mountains, across twenty miles desert…. And yeah, you guessed it …. commit aviary hari-kari on a two inch diameter electric line. Yeah, I know, you’re saying
“ But Scott, a Peregrin Falcon can spot a field mouse in tall grass from 700 feet in the air, dive at a speed of 100 miles per hour and snatch that mouse from the grass without even slowing down… how could one possibly run into a one mile long, two inch diameter cable suspended 100 feet in the air by large metal towers ??? ”
It could happen…. Bird Flu or something… you never know what a depressed falcon might do and it is our duty as conscientious beings to protect our bird brained friends from harming themselves !
“Hey Shrill Boy, that was a great victory for the Sierra Club wasn’t it… I mean saving the Peregrin from extinction and everything”
“Yes, yes it was a great victory… I sometimes go back and read the court transcripts from that case”
“Yeah, I bet that some good reading … you know they actually use the electric lines in Boquillas???”
Shrill Boy’s eyes start turning red at hearing this so I quickly clarify
“Yeah, they strip the wire strands from the cable and make little scorpions to sell to Americans for $1… that’s pretty much the basis for their whole economy”
“See, it was a good thing then” Shrill Boy blurts
“ Yeah, I guess…. You know I visited an endangered species in Boquillas a few years ago…. There was a little Mexican girl there that wanted to study as much as she could, learn English, learn math and the sciences, go to college, and then help her family and community to forge a better life. We wanted to help save this endangered species, so we took some tractor batteries down and gave them to the local school/church…. Since they don’t have modern electrical supply, they have to use solar collectors to store enough energy in tractor batteries so they can run a fan, or a radio, or a TV/VCR with educational tapes for a couple hours a day….. the funny thing was, while we were walking to the school, dragging these heavy batteries, buying $1 scorpions from every child that ran up, we didn’t notice any Sierra Club members around . And we didn’t notice any of them when we got to the school , didn’t even notice any evidence of recent humanitarian donations by the Sierra Club at all ….. and yes, as we were leaving Boquillas, and again buying $1 scorpions from every kid that ran up, we didn’t notice anyone in a Sierra Club T-shirt or cap ”
Now this must have been a heavy trip that I laid on Shrill Boy because he looked kinda comatose and confused. He finally snapped outta his daze and conferred with his meek compatriots in guarded whispers before declaring aloud
“Yeah…But we let them keep the electric cable and they use it to make scorpions to sell for $1 ”.
I just stared back at him in my best Donald Rumsfeld “hey dumbass, do you realize what you just said to me” look. Apparently the stare worked cause Shrill Boy cowered and then huddled with his amigos and with unsure looks on their faces, they entered into a whispery philosophical discussion on endangered species…… looks my psy-ops strategy is starting to work , there is uncertainty in the mind of the enemy….. good time to get back to my nap, could be a long flight…. And besides… a smart man doesn’t keep Selma Hayek waiting for too long !!!
It must have been 2 or three hours and about thirty Tequila shots later that I awoke from my nap with my brain firmly fixated on the need for one thing….nicotine! Crap!!!... I got smokes and a lighter in my pocket but it’s kinda hard to smoke with your hands bound in hemp rope behind your back.
“Hey Shrill Boy, how bout lightin me a smoke”
With a look of utter disgust on his face, Shrill Boy spews
“ No way !!! This is a non-smoking flight… and my Mom says smoking is bad for you ”
“ Well why don’t you just tell your Mom that I’m a Baaaaad Maaaaaaaaaan and light me a Marlboro”
“We’ll be landing in a few minutes, you can have one of your nasty cigarettes when we get on the ground”
As the nicotine withdrawls set in , I peer out the window and notice we’re flying low over some croplands…. Wait a minute, those crops look kinda blue…. Oh Holy Don Julio, those are Maguey fields !!! Off in the distance, I see a small mountain with microwave towers on top…. Could it be Volcan Tequila ??? Off to the south I see a smoky haze over an urban area… that must be Guadalajara, which would imply that our landing would be somewhere close to the town of , yeah, you guessed it again… Tequila !!!
Damn, if it wasn’t for these hemp ropes tied around my wrists and these non-bathing eco freaks sitting across from me, I’d be in heaven. But let me get Tequila off my brain for 1/2 a second, must concentrate on making my escape because if my Dad finds out that I was successfully held captive by a bunch of malnourished, 120 pound, ultra left wing radicals, he will kick my ass . So as the plane bumps to a stop on a dirt road surrounded by Agave fields, I start contemplating how to accelerate my psy-op strategy of exposing my captors hypocritical philosophies to cause the mental uncertainty that will allow me to escape…. But first things first, I need to get that Marlboro lit as soon as my feet touch the ground or there will be no will to escape….