A bit of a French goodbye to Rockford, but hey, we had a lot of shit to do.
Today was the wrap.
Everything goes back.
Vehicles, gear, hockey equipment.
The deflated, re-dead Crowd goes back In-A-Box.
Everything gets counted.
Wardrobe, petty cash, time cards, meal penalties.
Everything gets eaten.
Donuts, popcorn, organic trail mix, gummi worms.
Everything goes back.
Including the 20' stick shift box truck with air brakes.
Julio and I went to the lighting company to pick up the truck.
It wasn't ready so we ate Mexican food.
Over tortas I asked him what he wanted to do in the business.
He liked the idea of directing.
Can't doesn't exist.
"Anything is possible."
It's true.
I was about to drive that kooky truck to the suburbs in rush hour traffic.
I straddled that damn beast again.
First gear still proved elusive for whatever reason.
But my air braking prowess improved.
Soon I was bouncing from the Ike to Stevenson with Julio on my trail.
Traffic felt obligated to happen and it did of course.
Our exit was clogged all the way up the ramp.
I chose this moment to have more difficulty finding first gear.
I had to put a lot of weight on it, like the Avenging Disco Godfather.
In doing so, I let my foot off the brake and started coasting backward toward Julio.
"You almost hit me back there," he would later say at the gas station.
But I was just trying to rid the streets of angel dust.
While I pissed my stress away in the clean suburban unisex restroom, Julio filled up the tank.
When we got back on the road, I noticed it wasn't completely full.
Finding another gave station proved to be a clustered, construction zoned, suburban planned, mall islanded, labyrinth of turning around to turn around again. I frenched a few curbs with the big growling truck.
It turns out you have to fill up these diesel tanks until the pump is dripping the last drops of fuel above the rim of the tank. A bartender's pour.
The truck was returned in one piece with no damage, and I proudly ended my tenure as a commercial truck driver for this job.
On the ride back to the city Julio sang along to The National.
He sang in a soft, pleasant off-key that was similar to his speaking voice.
Tomorrow he would begin an all day road trip to New York City.
While Julio sang, Holli called to see if I would like to PA for a feature.
It would be three weeks on overnights out in the west burbs.
I told her I would think about it.
Three weeks of work.
I could certainly use the money.
And I like Holli.
After all she got me into this business.
I sort of owe it to her.
I would just have to talk with Lauren.
Three weeks is like a tour.
On overnights it's like a European tour.
Verdict: Win
Put'ch ya WEIGHT on it ! Put'ch ya WEIGHT on it !!!!
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