The reference to 'historical documents' is from "Galaxy Quest," the all-time favorite if you're burned out on space movies.
In that one, broadcasts of 'Star Trek' went out into the Universe and were received as 'historical documents' by space aliens who didn't know how to build starships and whatnot but the historical documents showed they could. Comedy ensues when the other-world creatures come to Earth for help in how to fly the ship from the 'Star Trek' actors.
These 'historical documents' are as accurate as I can tell them because a list of people can bust me if there's anything distorted. Some stuff I make up for comic purpose but, for me, these stories are funny by themselves. The purpose in telling them is these are the ones I remember but they aren't so much about me, instead I am one of the people in them ... and then strange things happen.
Lotho asked why I was showing nothing but crashes. We have probably logged tens of thousands of miles on motorcycles of all sizes and capability, raced go-karts at higher speed than you would believe they are capable, driven regular vehicles hundreds of thousands of miles around this country and others. Most of that was without incident ... but it's not funny without incidents.
So, there I was with the scooter on top of my leg in Nice, France.
There's drama in this moment but not so much in the total gorgeousity of an entire field of sunflowers, every one orienting itself toward the sun, exactly is if this were a real-life dream in front of you with the Wizard of Oz.
Riding past that reveals one breathtaking spectacle but not much drama.
So, there I was. The scooter was too heavy to move by myself and I thought, 'hmmm. This sucks. I don't even speak the language so now what?'
You learn the manners words before going anywhere. I know bonjour, merci, and the like but, even with every stretch of my memory, I couldn't come up with the words for ...
COULD SOMEONE HELP GET THIS FUCKING SCOOTER OFF ME LEG???
(Got a bit of a Kinison phase rolling here)
One guy saw the need for help and he was very cool, wouldn't let me stand up until he was satisfied I could ... very cool. All with minimal English.
The gendarmes showed up some while later but didn't stay long. The scooter was off the road then and nothing was obviously bleeding so he split.
That was ok as, hey, I'm glad he didn't shoot me.
(Ed: it's France. Cops don't do that over there.)
Right, right. I keep forgetting that. I should have known as it wasn't the first time I had run into French police ... that day.
The guy helped me out and pretty soon we were kissing and falling in love. We live together on the beach at Côte d'Azur to this day. We own nothing but sand, seagulls, and each other.
Sigh.
(Ed: bullshit. What really happened?)
See, there's the trouble. How do I get out of this. The whole run was three thousand kilometers and I shouldn't have survived any of it. The crash, tho, that gets the headline. Ha!
In that one, broadcasts of 'Star Trek' went out into the Universe and were received as 'historical documents' by space aliens who didn't know how to build starships and whatnot but the historical documents showed they could. Comedy ensues when the other-world creatures come to Earth for help in how to fly the ship from the 'Star Trek' actors.
These 'historical documents' are as accurate as I can tell them because a list of people can bust me if there's anything distorted. Some stuff I make up for comic purpose but, for me, these stories are funny by themselves. The purpose in telling them is these are the ones I remember but they aren't so much about me, instead I am one of the people in them ... and then strange things happen.
Lotho asked why I was showing nothing but crashes. We have probably logged tens of thousands of miles on motorcycles of all sizes and capability, raced go-karts at higher speed than you would believe they are capable, driven regular vehicles hundreds of thousands of miles around this country and others. Most of that was without incident ... but it's not funny without incidents.
So, there I was with the scooter on top of my leg in Nice, France.
There's drama in this moment but not so much in the total gorgeousity of an entire field of sunflowers, every one orienting itself toward the sun, exactly is if this were a real-life dream in front of you with the Wizard of Oz.
Riding past that reveals one breathtaking spectacle but not much drama.
So, there I was. The scooter was too heavy to move by myself and I thought, 'hmmm. This sucks. I don't even speak the language so now what?'
You learn the manners words before going anywhere. I know bonjour, merci, and the like but, even with every stretch of my memory, I couldn't come up with the words for ...
COULD SOMEONE HELP GET THIS FUCKING SCOOTER OFF ME LEG???
(Got a bit of a Kinison phase rolling here)
One guy saw the need for help and he was very cool, wouldn't let me stand up until he was satisfied I could ... very cool. All with minimal English.
The gendarmes showed up some while later but didn't stay long. The scooter was off the road then and nothing was obviously bleeding so he split.
That was ok as, hey, I'm glad he didn't shoot me.
(Ed: it's France. Cops don't do that over there.)
Right, right. I keep forgetting that. I should have known as it wasn't the first time I had run into French police ... that day.
The guy helped me out and pretty soon we were kissing and falling in love. We live together on the beach at Côte d'Azur to this day. We own nothing but sand, seagulls, and each other.
Sigh.
(Ed: bullshit. What really happened?)
See, there's the trouble. How do I get out of this. The whole run was three thousand kilometers and I shouldn't have survived any of it. The crash, tho, that gets the headline. Ha!
No comments:
Post a Comment