Semi-Good Natured Terms

In Mexico a coyote is a man who uses sly tricks to make money in ways that cheat the government and the people.
-James Mitchell Clarke
"Luis of Guadalajara"

Twenty-five years ago today:

July 25, 1985
Thursday

When I woke up this morning I called the BONAVENTURE Hotel Room Service to inquire about costs to use the Los Angeles Racquetball Club.
“Oh Sir, the Racquetball Club is free to our guests,” she said proudly.
And so, Dale and I went to work out. They only had one set of Universal gym equipment though. How dull! I still worked out a teeny-weeny bit (but hardly at all).

Dale went to the swimming pool but I chose to return to the hotel room. He called me while I was in the room.
“Michael, you have to come back here. The pool boy is just your type!” Dale said with extreme urgency.
I took a quick shower and decided to appear. The pool boy was NMT (Not My Type). He was a nice enough chap. His name was Michael, too. He lives in Pasadena, California.

We ate breakfast at the Sidewalk Café. Our Hotel was very Ritzy-like. The buttermilk pancakes were quite filling. After the breakfast we checked-out and left for the Rodeo Drive vicinity. I bought a telephone shaped like a piano. It’s so neat. It was seventy-nine dollars ‘neat’. The man working at the store (The Price of His Toys) was coming on to me, too. I could tell. He wasn’t exactly MT (My Type) but he was a very nice guy. It was really nice weather-wise in Beverly Hills. It felt so summertime nice.

We left for Highway Interstate 5. Dale and I were in semi-good natured terms. There was a delay by a Highway Patrolman because a truck had overturned. I will try not to mention the delay by the girl in the Cadillac who kept talking to a guy wearing a pink shirt who was in a black Volkswagen with tinted windows.

We stopped at a Rest Area and something unreal happened. I ran into an old high-school classmate of mine from Alameda High School. Her name is Carol Maybee (Carol Taylor is her married name). She had two little girls with her along with a younger sister who was very cute. Carol and I had a nice chat. I’ll have to write to her since we exchanged addresses. She lives in a town called Vista, near San Diego. I will definitely write to her and get the scoop on her younger sister. Ha-ha. I wonder if Carol divorced her husband since he wasn’t with her.

We departed the Rest Area and Dale and I had an argument again about his driving throughout the whole trip.
Dale added, “And I felt like you were trying to get rid of me on Tuesday night when you met Jim, John and Eric.”
I thought silently, “Oh well—things will smooth themselves over soon. I won’t allow him to brainwash me into feeling like I am to blame or was in a position to purposely hurt him…because I wasn’t.”

I bought Rachelle a little Cabbage Patch pin for her to wear. I hope she likes it. We telephoned her at the next Rest Area stop.
Rachelle said, “Did you know Marty moved out today!”
“He did?” I asked, “Well, it’s kind of a relief having the ‘somewhat of an intruder’ leaving.”
As we continued our drive I thought, “I have to check my next phone bill for Marty phone calls and make the appropriate deductions. Marty also has my garage door opener, so I need to make sure I get that, too.”

It was nice to hear Rachelle’s voice.
Rachelle said, “Danee and I were over at your house yesterday and today we were at the pool. It was funny because Marty was flaunting his body in his little shorts.”
I said, “Well, I better not smell any pot in the house…or cigarette smoke!”
Rachelle laughed.
“You know, Danee and I may want to move-in in about six months.”
That comment sounded good, but then again it could have its drawbacks. And I am adamant about NO SMOKING allowed.

Dale and I decided to stop at Rachelle’s house in Castro Valley. It’s 8:25PM and we were in San Ramon, near Crow Canyon Road (practically home). We arrived at Rachelle’s and she immediately takes center stage.
“I want you to know that I have plans for tomorrow to go with Danee to go to this party with Matt.”
I hate her sometimes. What a welcome. She won’t even go out with me and I have been gone for almost a full week. Dale and I didn’t stay there for very long. Dale dropped me off at home. He seemed very solemn. I believe he was disturbed by all of the arguments we had and the ‘not getting along’ incidents. I had kind of foreseen it because it’s like that a lot with us—even at the workplace.

When they asked him about himself, sounding as if it really mattered, he found himself wanting to cry.
-Morag Joss
"Half Broken Things"