Trail of the Firewriter…
2010 Road Trip: Day Seven

Got off to a good start this morning, I went to church. It was the same place where they had the line dancing.  Marjory Main met me at the door. I didn’t see any of those show girl instructors. The priest was an old guy, who gave a good talk. I prayed for all my friends who are having medical problems. I also asked the lord to guide me to victory in the card game I was planning to get into in Tunica. As I left the church, Marjory Main said good bye. I was thinking I should hook her up with that toothless guitar player at the Empress Casino in Joliette.

I decided to do my Spanish lesson on my computer before I left.  I have been trying to learn that language for two years now. I was sitting next to my grandson at the kitchen table. He was busy studying something. I popped in my Spanish disk into my laptop and put on my Boise earphones. The lesson started and I could hardly hear a thing. Damn, I thought, these are expensive earphones. I fooled around straining to hear my tape. It sounded like the voice was coming from the other room. I jacked up the volume on the computer as high as it would go with no change in sound. Finally my grandson leaned over and plugged in the wire dangling from my earphones into my computer. The sudden roar of Spanish dialogue made me jump off my stool. I stepped on the dog’s tail. She yowled and my daughter gave me a dirty look. It was time to hit the road.

It was an uneventful drive from St. Louis to Tunica. I checked into Sam’s Town. I got a good room rate but no comp. The poker room was on the second floor. I got a seat right away. I was truly in the south. The players were mostly local and their slow drawling conversation sounded like a foreign language. Thought I was listening to those three famous hillbillies Dave Ratcliff, Bill Mills, and Billy T, who were firefighters in the 7th Battalion. There was a wild man at the table. He was raising every hand. I finally called him with an all in bet. My tens and sevens beat his eights and sevens. He stomped away grumbling, “The South shall rise again.”  I was afraid to tell him I misread my hand. I thought I had a straight. I went down to play the penny slots. A midget Chinese woman started to follow me around. She was three feet tall and weighed about 200 pounds. She didn’t talk to me she just stared at me. It was weird.  It seemed I was attracting some odd characters on this trip. Maybe things would get better when I got to Florida.  I am still ahead with my gambling kitty. I am looking forward to day eight.

"Trail of the Firewriter" Posts

"Fire Horses" book authored by firefighter R.J. Haig.


Home PageAbout the BookFirefighting LinksAbout R. J. HaigPhoto GalleryTrail of the FirewriterFire TalkCop Talk