Quackers first week of freedom
Hi, I'm Quackers the duck.
My story begins many generations ago when my great great grand-ducks were captured and enslaved in the exotic stuffed animal breeding industry. For the generations that followed, my family has been forced to breed cute little stuffed animals such as myself. Before we reach our prime, we are ripped away from our family and shipped to various gift stores across the country so that we may be pimped out for the store's profit motives.
Unfortunately, I was shipped to a store in the Castro, so I had been stuck on a shelf for the past 6 months staring at a wall of dildos, butt plugs, and other strange sex paraphernalia that I have yet to figure out (I swear, you just can't find a store in the Castro that doesn't sell at least one thing that you are supposed to shove up your butt -- you people are depraved!)
Sometimes my siblings have been lucky to be purchased by a loving family, but other times my siblings have ended up as a dog toy (YIKES). I was certain that I was going to be purchased by some pervert and would be sacrificed in some strange sex ritual (considering my surroundings in the Castro). So when Chrys bought me and I was shoved in a dark bag, I was quacking at the top of my lungs -- "Hey, buddy, I'm not into that kinky - sensory deprivation thing... get me out of this bag!!!"
The next thing you know, the bag in which I was trapped got wedged under the windshield wipers of an obnoxiously bright yellow mustang convertible ("it was the last convertible rental available" says my new owner) . Turns out, I'm not a kinky sex sacrifice after all... Chrys had purchased me as a sweet going away present for his boyfriend Stephen before Stephen disembark on a cross-country road trip... Yippee! Now Stephen and I are traveling the country and making friends (ok, maybe some enemies) along the way...
Our road trip was delayed at first, because Stephen packs like a big ol' girl and he could not even fit his bags into the trunk... So he had to go back in and re-pack into duffel bags that he could fit in the trunk and the back seat... (What a homo!).
Let me just say, the first 9 hours of driving (from San Francisco to Las Vegas) were insightful. I really got to learn about this Stephen fellow... He really should not be left alone with his thoughts for so long! On a number of occasions, I've observed him yelling at random things, and "singing" at the top of his lungs for the world to hear... Everything we passed a cattle ranch (and there must have been at least 87 fucking cattle ranches along the way), Stephen would just start yelling "Oh my God, Oh my God, I'm going to fucking die"... Then when we passed a billboard that read "Abortion stops a beating heart" Stephen would yell "so do mouse traps, but you don't see billboards for that.."
Once we got to Vegas, we stayed at the Luxor. Here I am enjoying the view from our room.
The first night at the Luxor, I was too tired to go out on the town with Stephen, so I stayed in the room and got some Z's. Meanwhile, Stephen went out and blew a couple hundred dollars right off the bat... Ouch! In all, it was a somewhat tame evening...
The next day Stephen enjoyed the afternoon by the pool, though I heard him bitching about how the entire fucking pool was 3 1/2 feet deep, so you could only squat awkwardly if you want the water to reach your neck...
After a relaxing afternoon, Stephen was ready to get sloppy.... so we headed over to Coyote Ugly at New York, New York, for our first of 2 (or three -- we can't quite recall) Strawberry Daiquiri -- this one with 2 extra shots of alcohol.
I really enjoyed that I got to come out and meet some new people at the blackjack table, but I didn't really appreciate how Stephen kept passing me around the table while making everyone chant "Rub the duck for good luck; Rub the duck for good luck"... It got old real fast -- but Stephen was too drunk to care...
After a few unlucky hands of blackjack, and a horrible stretch of bad luck with the freaking Wheel of Fortune slots, it was time to visit "The ATM of SHAME"
A few drinks later (oh, did I mention that Stephen was still ordering the free cocktails at the blackjack table and just dumping them in with his daiquiri), Stephen started feeling really sick... He had multiple puke sessions in the bathroom of the Casino (once even while on the phone with his boyfriend -- Bad Stephen!). There was so much red liquid everywhere that I swear it looked as if someone were stabbed to death in that bathroom stall).
After puking his guts out Stephen realized that it was Midnight and he had forgotten to eat dinner. And although he was blacked out most of the late evening, he did remember the pizza he had at midnight -- I believe he kept repeating, " this is the best fucking pizza I have ever had in my life"... Though I think that was the alcohol talking...
Somehow, we made it back to our room in one piece -- don't ask us how, as I was sleeping in Stephen's pocket, and he was a blacked out zombie!
The next day, we headed eastward. Our next stop was Hoover dam.
I grabbed the camera and flew up for this shot of Stephen...
Next we raced over to get to the Grand Canyon before sunset. Stephen was so overwhelmed with the beauty of the view, that he vowed that we would come back the next day and do some hiking and perhaps have a picnic at the Canyon...
... 5 minutes later, Stephen changed his mind and was "over it"... "been there done that" he said, so we hopped in the car and headed to Flagstaff, AZ where we are currently spending the night at a $40/night shit-hole motel. But they have high speed Wi-Fi internet access, so I was able to finally hop on and tell my story.... Stay tuned as we head to New Mexico and Oklahoma...
