Friday, October 31, 2008

Old Legends Never Die.

There was a time when I worked for my best friend's (Ernesto) mother's boyfriend. He was a Plumber, and his name was NOT Joe. His name was Roy, and he was a Chippewa "Indian," or Native American, and always had great stories to tell us.

Some were just everyday life stories. For example, he told us about the time he got so drunk that he drove his car on the sidewalk. When the Police stopped him, he said "It's okay, I'm FBI." The Police said, "You're FBI?" He answered, "Yes, Full Blooded Indian." He was then arrested for drunk driving.

His two business partners at the time wanted to go to Las Vegas. My friend and I had never been to Las Vegas, though we did drive through it on the way to Utah once, and were invited to go. We drove two cars to Las Vegas, one with Roy and his two business partners, in the "Adult" car, and the other with me and my two friends, in the under 21 car.

We had a good time in Las Vegas, even though we got kicked out of the Casino for being under 21. We didn't know you had to be over 21 to gamble, we thought that being over 18 was good enough. My other friend Ramon had a "baby-face" and was approached by a Security guard while playing a slot machine. Ernest and I both had mustaches and looked over 21. After being told to leave the Casino, Ramon walked up to both of us at another Slot machine, and told us that he had been kicked out. Almost immediately, the same Security guard came over and checked our IDs. We all got the boot.

After our trip ended, we were driving back to Los Angeles, and Roy decided to take a detour. I had no idea where we were going, but we ended up going through Death Valley. Somewhere along the road, there was a turn-off to a dirt road that led up into the mountains. It was beginning to get dark, and all I could see was their car in front of me. There are no street lights or any other extra ambient lighting.

As we drove up this dirt road, we wondered where Roy was taking us. Was it a short cut? An old friend who lived in a cabin? We were confused, and as it got darker and darker, we were a little scared.

Finally we came to a plateau, and stopped. It was PITCH BLACK. There was no one and nothing around but us, but we were whispering as if we didn't want to wake the dead.

This is how our conversation went:
"Where are we?" "I don't know..........." "Why are we here?" "I don't know............" "Why are we whispering?" ?????

Roy got out of his car, and we joined him out in the pitch blackness. He said, "We're too late." Late for what????? He told us this story of an old Indian legend.

"A large group of Indians were here having a celebration. When food was running low, they sent Scouts to get more. When the Scouts returned with more food, the rest of the Indians were gone. Disappeared. Not a single trace of them being here, or where they went.

So, legend has it that if you return here at Dusk, and do a special Indian chant, you will be able to see and hear them celebrating in the distance. But we're too late for that."

In our opinion, we were kinda glad that we were late.............

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