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Prozack Turner / Blog

Sunday Morning in Reno

 I was waiting for the pawn shop to open drinking a cup of what was supposed to be coffee. I guess it was coffee by definition, the same way that Mcdonalds claims to sell food. Everything about this cup of coffee was wrong from the atmosphere eating styro-foam cup it came in, to the powdered creamer that refused to disolve floating on the surface.I'm not a coffeee snob by any stretch of the imagination, but a line has got to be drawn somewhere right?  At least it was hot" thought the optimist in me. I took a sip and burned the inside of my mouth. There weren't a lot of people out this early on a Sunday morning in Reno. Some old guy in his fifties, wearing a Todd 1 sweat jacket and regular, generic, cotton sweat pants tried selling me some costume jewellry. He had on those enormous terminator shades, but the Walgreens senior citizen version and wore a silver and turquoise bracelet."Hey G!" he said. "You wanna get one of these chains? Everyone's lovin em, they're hot!" I said no thanks and wondered to myself who in their right mind would take fashion tips fron what's "hot" from a guy that dresses like he's about to help his friend move and still uses the term "G" to address a stranger? I imagined that perhaps this guy might have gone to prison in 1990 when the term "g" was commonly used, and only recently been released and was trappped in a slang time warp.  I told him to "keep it real" and he moved on down the street. I had the drum machine wrapped in a blanket on the bus stop bench. The tow truck driver let me get it out of the back seat before he took my car. What an angel he was, a real softie. "Get your fuckin' video game or whatever the fuck it is outta the back seat or I'm a' take it with the car" he said. I thought about telling him it was not a video game, but a drum machine in hopes that it would make me appear more cultural, but decided to keep my mouth shut and just retrieve it while I could. After all, is having a drum machine really any more impressive than having a video game console these days? Other than the inside of my mouth, I was cold. The sun was just starting to hit the sidewalk on the other side of the street, but I was still covered in shade from the buildings. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and blew on the surface of the "coffee". I would have gotten a lid, but for some reason, they didn't have them layed out at the coffee station in the casino. They have a complimentary continental breakfast complete with stale croissants, watery juice,warm milk for your cereal, freeze dried coffee and canned fruit cocktail. All a person really needs to start a day of losing miserably at the slots. I try not to play the slots. I only play them when I'm waiting for a free drink or pretending to bum a cigarette from a pretty girl. My game is Black Jack. Don't get me wrong when I say this. When I say that "my game is Black Jack" it has no bearing on my ability to play the game. Let's just say that I wouldn't have it put the slogan on my business card. Sometimes I win though. Sort of like my rap career. I felt like a derelict sitting on that bench in my linen suit that smelled of tequila and smoke waiting for the pawn shop to open. The later it got, the more cars drove by. I think it was about twenty minutes past eight when the first bus drove by. When I say drove by, I mean not stopping. I wasn't even waiting for the bus, but still I was offended that the driver didn't even stop to ask. Then, I figured the driver didn't see me. It wasn't personal was it? Maybe the driver was texting while driving past my stop and didn't notice me. Maybe he was texting the cops that there's a hobo with a big video game wrapped in a blanket at the bus stop! God I hope so! How embarrassing and pathetic has one's life become when the bus drivers in Reno don't stop for you because you look suspicious?