Quackers about to croak Hi all, This is Stephen; I know that you were probably expecting to hear from Quackers about his final road trip installment, but I'm afraid I have bad news... After 7 drunken days in New Orleans, Dallas and Phoenix, Quackers collapsed from alcohol poisoning. It now appears that he is in a persistent vegetative state... More on Quackers condition later... Here's how he lived his last waking days on earth...

I should have known that something was wrong with Quackers when we reached New Orleans... He decided to stay in to "recover" on our first night in New Orleans while Kent and I went out on Bourbon Street with his boss Will. (Here's a picture of Kent and Will before the night got real ugly)...



It didn't take long for the night to spiral into a mess... 5 minutes later, we met a Teacher/Whore straight out of a 1992 Van Halen video... Much to my disgust, she insisted on showing us her boobies for beads, even though Kent and I told her that we would only share beads with boys that show their schlongs...



Fortuntately, I did get to give some beads away that night (even though we only got to see a picture of a schlong -- thanks to the lovely group of drunk bacheloretts we met later that night).

Kent and I had a great time out on the town, and when we went to the hotel, we expected to find a well-rested Quakers asleep in bed... but we soon discovered his motivation for ditching us on our first night in New Orleans. Quackers had picked up a whore and wanted to have some alone-time to get his freak on...





The next night was a drunken blur which ended when the sun came up.... Ugh! I then got a 2 hour nap before Quackers and I joined Kent for a Swamp Tour.



Let me just say, if you are in New Orleans with a hang over and it's cold outside, be sure to go on a swamp tour -- what a great idea! (yeah right, like the time I bunjee jumped in Las Vegas even though I had a hang over/headache -- why do I do such stupid things when I'm hung over?!)

Because it was cold outside, the aligators did not want to come out to be viewed... So Kent did his best alligator impression (just imagine his arms are opening and closing like the mouth of the 'gator) in order to give the crowd something to photograph...




Finally, Quackers go so bored on the swamp tour that he flew out into the brush, dove down into the water and grabbed a baby alligator and brought him back to the boat (thank goodness, Quackers had some extra rubber bands so that he could bind the gator's mouth shut).




We finished the tour, and, at Quacker's request, we took a quick "Disco Nap" before we went out on the town again.

At dinner, Quackers and I shared a Hurricane...




But soon, Quackers insisted on having his own drink.... I should have stopped him (a little duck can only drink so much)... But instead, he finished it off on his own and the evening's debauchery began...



Before long, Kent, Quackers and I met up with our "Bad Influence" friends from Utah, Todd and Kevin (The Mormons do know how to party -- once they break away from the church, that is!!!) Todd and Kevin had a tendency to keep me and Quakers out drinking till the wee hours of the morning... which is probably why I ended up getting Bronchitis in New Orleans...



Quackers kept buying us drinks and insisted that we go to the scuzzy bar with the Go-Go Dancers (which surprised me, 'cause I didn't think that Quackers flew both ways).... If New Orleans was the Devil's playground, this bar was the Devil's pulsating sphincter (yet Kent and I had a great time)!

Soon after we arrived at the bar, I noticed that Quackers kept stealing $1 bills out of my wallet to give to the dancers....




Eventually, Quackers got us kicked out of the bar... I think he snorted coke in the bathroom and, when the bartender announced that we were too drunk for service, he started quacking at the bartender, "you can't stop serving us, I know the owner of this bar!"... The bartender was not impressed and we were out on our ass... Fortunately it was time for breakfast... Quackers promised that he would never do drugs again, then he passed out...

When Quackers woke up, we had already made our way to Dallas. And although I only got to see my friend Jason for about 1/2 an hour, Quackers had enough time to snort some more blow and hire 2 more hookers (human ones this time)...




We promptly left Dallas and headed for Phoenix, then home to San Francisco. Quackers had been awake for 72 hours straight (due the all the junk he snorted). Here is the last picture I took of Quackers before he collapsed.




My bronchitis was getting worse by the hour so I was rushing to get home home to me to a doctor and to get Quackers to a Vet. It was a shame I didn't have more time to enjoy the beautiful scenery...








When we got home, the doctor gave me antibiotics for my respiratory infection (and told me to take a trip to Hawaii to recover -- which I will do later this week).

The news was not so good for Quackers. The Vet inserted and feeding tube into Quackers. He told me that Quakers was in a persistent vegetative state. Unlike Teri Schiavo, I'm not expecting a big controversy when I remove the tube... But I've kept him alive all this time for a reason... I'm trying to fatten Quackers up with the feeding tube while I look for a good braised duck recipe... Any suggestions?  0 comments ¶ 9:55 AM

  And it all went horribly wrong.... Howdy again -- this is Quackers! A couple of pints before I begin ranting and quacking about my last few days... first, you can see more pictures of the roadtrip (some that don't even involve me!) in the "Pictures" section of Stephen's web site. Second, if you didn't read my first post, please skip to the post below to find out about the first leg of this trip.... 'Cause it's all downhill from here!!!

Please excuse me if I seem a little off, but I don’t think it’s legal for Stephen to pump this much alcohol into me (and himself) in such a short period of time! If he substituted liver for mixed drinks, I'd sweare that he was preping us both to be Fois Gras!

We drove through the rest of Arizona and through some of New Mexico and saw some very pretty "deserty" things along the way... including tumbleweed!



When we got to Albuquerque I demanded that Stephen wash the stench of Las Vegas out of his clothes (I was the one who had to sleep in the duffle bag after all)! Stephen was happy to comply, as the smell of smoke easily triggered Stephen’s gag reflex – I don’t think the smell of Vegas will ever settle with his stomach again (and I THOUGHT that he would never drink again – boy was I WRONG!!!).

After washing Stephen’s clothes (and my little orange scarf), we were off to a friendly neighborhood bar called “Albuquerque Mining Company”… It was a strange little bar… When we walked in there were 10 or so guys watching and yelling at the Basketball game on TV. For a few minutes, we weren’t sure if it actually was a gay bar… But when the home team scored, some of the guys shrieked in delight and hugged each other… suddenly we knew we were in the right place.

Even though we only wanted one drink, the bartender proceeded to refill Stephen’s Vodka Cranberry with out asking (and without much Cranberry, for that matter). After getting sloshed once again, we went home and Stephen crashed…

Before heading out of Albuquerque, Stephen decided it would be fun to get a CB radio so that we could listen into the “secret world of truck drivers”… (you can see the antenna seat-belted into the back seat of the car).


Instead of getting tidbits of “trucker wisdom” we quickly learned that most CB conversations revolve around fluids… Conversation topics included “what types of fuel additives are y’all using”, “I’m so thirsty” and “I always carry a gallon jug of tea with me in this here cooler behind my seat (this conversation lasted at least 20 minutes – including types of tea, how many bags to add, and how sweet the tea is in the south)”; and the all important “boy, I gotta piss” conversation. Also, we herd some delightful conversations about the need for a shower “boy, you know you need to shower when you are offending yourself”.

Perhaps the most enlightening thing we did learn from the CB is the concerted effort that truckers make to block asshole drivers on the road. At one point, there were at least 4 truckers in a conversation about blocking in the “asshole in the white SUV”. They must have blocked that poor schmuck in for at least 20 minutes and kept him slowed down to 60 mph (in a 75 mph zone).

At one point, we heard the truckers referring to us as big bird. I’d like to think that they were talking about me, but Stephen is pretty sure that they were referring to our big yellow car…

Instead of heading to Oklahoma and Dallas next as planned, Kent convinced us to come to New Orleans first so that we would get more time to hang out with him. Though I had never met Kent, Stephen told me plenty of sorted stories – and after meeting him, I knew they were all true...


Stay tuned for New Orleans...  0 comments ¶ 8:03 PM

  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...  3 comments ¶ 2:56 AM