Socialist Saturday

Saturday I drove up to Madison with Rick to meet up with Lope. Lope is on a 26 day, 6700 mile cross-country fundraiser for his left wing radio station out of LA. He’s traveling with his boss, another gay boss and the gay boss’ gay boyfriend who’s acting as a videographer (he videotapes the events they’re attending) and to provide gay love for Lope’s gay boss in a mid-sized rented RV.

Let me preface this by citing that I have nothing against gay people, and in fact like Lope’s gay boss quite a bit (Rick and I took a trip out to LA last year and saw some good times with Lope and his gay boss) – I just think that it’s funny and power abusing to bring along your lover on a month-long cross-country business trip in tight quarters... especially if the “videographer” has zero filmmaking experience.

Anyways, Madison is about a 3 hour drive from Chicago and Saturday was a sunny 75 degree day. We pulled in about the same time that Lope pulled in. We hadn’t seen him since our last visit to LA about a year ago, and the change was definitely for the positive: Lope leaned down from his husky self, was in more playful better spirits and apparently has had a girlfriend for several months. The whole crew was tired as hell: they’re only left California on April 3rd and had already hit 4 events on their way east (they were next scheduled to attend an event in Philadelphia today). That’s insanity.

Lope had to do some setting up, so we went into the community center hosting the "socialist potluck." Judging by the aging long haired burned out "socialists" in attendance, the government has nothing to worry about… most of the socialists looked hand to mouth poor, were there for a free dinner (a bowl of potato chips and donuts), and – according to their leader – were "considering" placing their meeting minutes online… they’ll get around to that.

Radical!

One crazy ass looking woman in a winter coat cut off the guy at the podium with a "does anybody have a copy of the new civil rights law?" and then later took the open microphone and said:

"I want to start a group for vegan free thinkers… like, every afternoon. I don’t got no money for a place or anything, so we can just meet where ever."

Vegan free thinkers.

When all that socialist crap wrapped up we hung out by the RV and Lope told us about the geocaching hunt that they’re on with the GPS they brought along. It sounds like super fun.

The socialist head of the local left wing radio station took us to this joint called the Weary Traveler. It was way nicer than what I was expecting him to suggest. I figured we’d end up at some dive bar run by fat women with underarm hair, but this place had dark wood and was playing Guero.

It’s easy to catch up with Lope like no time has past. We talked about the kind of girls who say no but mean yes, and came up with a tag: "she smiles when she says no." Looking around at a few of the foxy waitresses and ladies in the room, it was easy to see which ones smiled when they say no. We sat down at the table with the rest of the crew and Rick talked about a girl we know who’s living in Cleveland with her sister who has abortions. We creeped out Lope’s gay boss when we each asked about the same time "how many abortions is too many? Four?" I miss Lope.

Lope’s gay boss and his gay boss’ gay boyfriend wanted to get gay with each other, so they were very enthusiastic about Rick and I taking Lope out for a few hours while Lope’s other boss hung with the local socialist radio guy. I took those two fools to an old haunt called the Paradise Lounge. I have history with the Dise. I first drank there when I was 19 and living in the neighborhood... I’ve had new years eves there... I’ve drank with girlfriends there... I’ve stolen mugs there (they look mason jars with a handle added) – I stole one for Lope that night (they’re great for brewing tea). The Paradise is a great rock dive.

We had a smoke, bought some smokes and drank heavily... someone tossed on Fugazi’s Waiting Room,.. ironic, seeing as Lope and I were really into that particular Fugazi CD nine years ago. I like the Dise because it hasn’t changed at all: they’re still playing old hard rock and metal, the joint is full of young punks and the lost, as well as a healthy population of middle aged to ancient drunks. Some old drunk bellied up next to Lope and, Lope turned to me and asked me if I thought that I could kick that old man’s ass. I thought about it for a second. He was an old, frail man. I told him with full certainty that I could beat him to a coma.

I figured that it would take seven shots:

1 – first tag to the face... let him know that I’m in front of him.

2 – second tag to the face... a little harder this time. I want him to show a bit of a response and hit me back (piss me off), but I also want him to know that I’m just warming up.

3 – third tag to the face... much harder this time. This one should cut skin and release blood.

4 – fourth tag to the face... full on out, this one should fuck up his vision and balance.

5 – fifth tag to the face... this one should knock him back, and then down to the ground.

6, 7 – sixth and seventh shots to the head are just a reminder to not get up... like “stay” (tag #6) “down!” (tag #7)

Soon, our night was over. We were fucked up and super tired. We picked up Lope’s other boss and drove them to the worst KOA campsite I’ve ever seen... it was a dirt field with parked RV's (it's outside of Madison, off County V in DeForest, WI. don’t stay there).

I don’t know when I’ll see Lope again, but that’s part of the fun of our friendship, it’s unpredictable and always fun.