On The Town Last Night

Last night I met the following:

A man whom I'd previously met, who showed me a shotgun wound from crossing the border with a backpack of cocaine, from Canada to the U.S. Border Patrol got him and he hightailed it out (before 9/11), dug out his bullet, and stitched it himself. His wife asks him to "make her some money" and I asked, "drugs?" "pimping"? (does she pimp her husband out? because he said she said: "Get in the car, I need you to make me some money.") No, he donates blood plasma these days.

Border Patrol people. Two of the men were married and either on the prowl for a woman they could share, or for illicit information. I hate how I'm always attracted to the Hispanics/Latinos. And guess which one touched my arm as he passed by, and then held my cold hand forever, in his warm grip? Yep. Watch out for the machisto-playah.

A group of turbine workers who travel all over, even internationally, fixing turbines. Big group of men, all whistling and calling when I walked by (no matter which direction I walked). So I sat down with them for a moment but said I couldn't stay because it was a small town. Sigh. You can't mingle and mix with the "strangers" in a small town, without checking in with the locals first.

More musicians. But only briefly.

Friendly Blaine transplants from all over.

And, I was definitely off of my information gathering game. Instead of just being interested and a good listener, which, actually some Border Patrol women complimented me on, saying I'd be great at their line of work because I listened, processed, and then asked questions, last night I was stupidly asking for "stories" about the history of the town and saying I liked to do a little writing.

If anything is going to make someone feel insecure about sharing, it's saying this kind of crap.

When it comes, it happens naturally. Like a surprise falling into your lap. I think of Julia Roberts as Erin Brockavitch, in the movie, shelling peanuts as she quietly contains herself and allows this former worker to divulge what he knows. The whole thing is, she doesn't stop shelling peanuts and she doesn't react in a way that could frighten someone off.

Note to self: don't stop shelling the peanuts.

I DID find out there is a pad around, belonging to Homeland Security, which has helicopters dropping men with briefcases, satchels and luggage, off and then back on. The guy said it was really weird. He also has a camera for "birding" he said he might let me borrow, for capturing things on film. I thought he'd said he filmed "his birds" at first, and I was thinking "what a weirdo" because he's telling me how it has long-range focus like binoculars. Of course I'm imagining him going around the corner, in his house, trying to sneak up on his caged parakeets to catch them doing whatever they do, when they think no one is watching. But then he corrected me and said he'd said, "the birds", and this is big bird country. Not HIS birds. He'd just told me how his wife had kicked him out that night, and I was wondering if it was his strange habit of filming their birds with $2,000+ equipment.