Goodweirdians Invade Anderson Bluegrass Festival

Animated Characters: 

Paddy: Afro Jewish looking Roman Catholic financer extrodinare’.

Luigi: Head Chef and mastermind behind the “Sausage & Peppers”

Mogulmaker: “Made Man” aka: Johnnie Mogulini, aka:  “The Weasle”

Pan: Designated Driver from Hell aka: Pandolfino aka: “The Finger”.

Timeline: July 28-35th 2009

Place: Girdwood to Anderson a stretch of about 326 miles……….a  very long 702 miles roundtrip.

Twighlight Zone Voice:

Imagine if you could four men on a ride with destiny to a place where time stands still or moves all to fast, a moment in a bad acid trip where anything and everything will not happen at all or all at once………………..

Pan first had seen Luigi and Paddy slingin’ their New York-New York Sausage & Pepper’s @ the Forest Fair some weeks prior and came to the conclusion they had magical healing  proprieties since it helped him fight off panic & despair during a shaman ritual gone terribly awry. While at the Casa Del Sol restraunt in good old Girdie, they sparked up the conversation of the possibilitie of vending up in Anderson where the annual Bluegrass Festival was held. It was the northern equivalent of the Forest Fair, where people of all walks & tribes came together as one. It would be a great opportunity to once again stroll through the Taiga Drunken Forest of Black Spruce, Salmon Bake, Lynx Tavern and pay tribute to his old love, the Nenana River. The river that flows not South as most but North into the Tanana then into the Yukon and finally spilling its glacier milk into the Bering Sea some 1200 miles to the West, like a spent lover.

They had the financial backing provided by Paddy, yeah that Jewish looking Roman Catholic and lover of Chardonay, the dryer the better. They also had the product ie. of the sausage imported from Vinnie Cattellini’s (Food Network) father in Seattle (a old debt was settled) which Luigi added too, a smorgasborg of differant types of peppars, onions and spices cooking them w/ Cianti for hours on end to perfection. They were like a party in your mouth where everone is coming, yeah that fuckin’ good. Mogulmaker simply “weasled” his way in by helping out with loose ends and his “acquiring skills” All they needed was a driver since none of them have a licence. thats where Pan comes into this story having recently recieved his driving privalages back from the States of California, Utah, Colorado and Alaska,….. respectfully, he was even reportadly fully insured by Geico under a high risk SR-22 policy that had to conform to all the afore mentioned States but in reality he didnt have the cash to pay this month. They approached him with offering’s of India Pale Ales, drugs and hookers and a Wet Burrito w/ Luigis infamous Chipolte sour cream. They haggled endless promises, hundreds if not “thousands” of dollars which must have been in Cambodian or Mexican currency since I have yet to see any of it. yeah all the Sausage & Peppers he could eat, loose women  and other articles of debauchery I cannot disclose for another 7 years but most importantly a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket to all three days, Pan with another 6 pack of the Beast thrown in for the hell of haggling was in. Soon the Z- team Rat Pack was together.

Paddy: plays Peter Lawrence- Yearnful & Dreamy

Luigi: as Frank Sinatra- Stoic and Optimistic

Mogul: you know it- Dean Martin w/ drink in hand, cig hanging, hair dirty but perfect.

Pan: Offers stellar performance as : Sammy “mother-fuckin” Davis. Crooked eye & all. 

Turnagain Times- Five Fuckin Stars Upside Your Head!!

Chugach- What Times?- I never laughed and cried so hard in all my life, stunningly tragic and beautiful.

Anarchy in the AK.- Pando I need this piece submitted before the deadline dammit’-RD

All they needed now was a car. Hmmmmm I wonder.

So theres this gorgeous hippy girl that had a pure and trusting soul and a Toyota Forerunner that would work since no one was jumping on the Paddy Wagon Love Wagon and so with more offerings and bottomless promises She folded like a lawn chair and caved in under pressure. ( Thanks Sarah, lets do lunch,. like Surf & Turf for me & all you can eat Salad Bar for you, I love hippie vegetarian girls!!)  First they had to get those sausages thawed from the Silvertips freezer which was like trying to release a frozen Mastadon from a glacier, then all they had to do was make the product, pack the truck and hit the road. Easier said than done, for the next 2 days and nights they slaved away cooking these sausages and peppers…..Night & Day-Day & Night they cooked, they argued, they laughed, they cried, they slept…… not really.

Mogul was able to steal, beg or borrow the assortment of coolers, ice, wood, batteries, tent, tables but dammit no steaks and Tobasco Cipolte Sauce. (refer to last years story, Ah shit,;;; I might as well fill you in, you see it seems as if something always goes wrong when driving up to Anderson. Last year Danny (( Famous Girdwood Proprieter)) was pulled over for speeding through Cantwell and it didnt help having like a empty 24 pack of Sierra Pale Ales fall out as he was getting escorted to the red & blues, which left Pan & Drinkard w/ his ride and full of booze to boot, He felt bad for a minute, exactly, the year before- same thing but this time it was a mile outside the festival where they pulled them over and Pan & Mogul are making plans for a free trip to Fairbanks, call my mom, send underwear & socks and put $$ on books, phone #’s,.. etc, you know’ the usual shit, wherein they only take Pan’s Driver Licence and Mogul, who left his steaks and Tobasco behind-whew damn run on sentences..) Back to story at hand.

Next thing Pan knows him & Mogul are packing those huge ass white coolers full of Sausage & Peppers out to the afore mentioned borrowed vehicle which by the way has a rear door that doesnt work and can barely fit these fat ass sausages in her doors. It had to carry all the product, camping, kitchen gear & 4 guys w/ booze, guns, knives etc. and has no rear shocks. We packed the shit out of that rig, it sat as if ready to launch out of Cape Girdnavel w/ Evil Knieval at the helm.

So after lashing, tying, pushing, shoving, stuffing, cramming every available space all the while trying not to crush the 25 bags of buns., at percisely,  4:20 pm Thursday the 20-somethingth, they said their goodbyes, that is: not before stopping in at the Casa for a safety meeting and a much overdue drink. we got our blessings or good ridance from the locals of Girdwood, knowing it was they who would be representing the Chugach this year…………..oh god.

 One thing is for certain is that being a designated driver is a huge responsibility and should be taken very seriously. but it can be trying when your the only one sober and their taking these weird orange pills that seem to make them believe they’re on a talk show or a guest speaker at a Hustler convention. I have heard some pretty tasteless jokes in my time but I will be needing therapy after those little orange happies’ unleashed their sick & twisted dreams and desires. We lost the gas cap by Wasilla, Pan almost lost his mind by Willow. It was like a old Iron Butterfly vinyl album stuck over & over & over, mid-jam, no matter how many times you reset it, fuckin’ keeps making noise. It was so awesome when they passed out like triplets drooling on eachother, necks arched back like baby teradactyl hatchlings he wanted to stuff those rock hard buns down. Their was only one cassette tape in the rig as there are no radio signals up there, it was hippy shit. Ugh. 289 miles to go, and they said it would only take 4 hours to get there. Pft’, right. Pan drove on into the endless day as it rained on………. it was going to be a long drive.

Anchorage traffic, gotta love it, and also the smoking breaks they had to have as if their lives depended on it & was only going to stretch this trip out, it seemed they stopped more for cigarettes and booze breaks more than for drugs and hookers as promised. but they perservered through Wasilla but had to stop at the Houstan Roadhouse as alcohol levels were getting dangerously low. They all got their poison , Pan as well……a Pepsi on the rocks, ugh. After smoking no less than 10 cigarettes apiece and crackin’ out on this weird ass bar table video game, they were back on the road through Trappers Creek, Talkeetna (smoke break # 26 & Mogul stole a air freshener from the mens room as the rig was getting funky) Pan experiencing facial twitches bordering on Belle’s Palsy, white knuckling the wheel as if it were Paddy’s neck, Luigi was like the Ed McMahon to Paddys Johnny Carson, all he did was laugh for the 1st 150 miles only encouraging insufferable rants of distaste & disgust, the later 1/2 he shuffled between power sweats and nicotine naps. Mogul taking it all in stride like a motha fuckin champ sleep’s it all away. Pan in occasionally in a self gratification moment would slam on the brakes so the 20 some odd pounds of dinner rolls would bury them accompanied with folding tables stuffed in on top of the coolers which would bang both their heads at once, a classic three stooges manuveur. yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk!!

He knew he should have fueled up at that last gas store-shower-place but didnt want the sleeping beauties who were now chomping away in Lotus Land even though he only wanted to smoke a joint and suffered from a head ache inspired from  Larry, Moe & Curly. Here they were at least 20 miles from the McKinnly Chateau’s riding on the needle way below”E’, must have been running on their 1/2 tanked fumes. When the Sun started to dip behind the Alaskan Range there in the distance was a gas station but it was now like 1:30 am the following day (…yeah, tell me about it) it was closed and no one had cash. Now heres where Pan simply snapped, all that pent up energy came forth as if a PHOENIX in its Death Throws, unleashing a power and fury the stooges staggered back and Luigi tried to light a ciggarette from. With a torrent of truth as it may be, he proceeded to chew off each and everyone of their asses. He was contemplating running into the Nenana, his lover of old to Quench his Thirst to Dowse these Flames……… steam rising from his form,.. minutes away from self combustion, Paddy in his most sobering moment in 5 days pulls out what he thought was a defunct bank card and slides it into the pump, it APPOVES!!! AAAIIIEEEE!!! The Gods have seen our troubles and give us safe travels obviously on someone elses account since Paddy swears he cancelled this card some 2 years prior. Why was it in his wallet you ask?, Hmmmmm allow me to answer that question with a question:

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? get back to me on that one asshole. Paddy’s my man…………………. they empty out those dead soldiers with a crash of glass and gear up for the last leg of the ride into destiny.

Pulling into Glitter Gulch proved humbling since they were out of alcohol and no stores were opened, onward to the liquor store in Healy, Noooooo!!! CLOSED that sign said as they lay on the ground and grovel like tormented souls, Pan chuckled and felt somewhat chipper thinking to himself this sober shit aint that bad watching them writh in apparant agony. Somewhere around the Stampede Trail where Alex Supertramp went “Into the Wild” Pan started experiencing difficulties seeing the road even though the rains had now ceased.

Over 300,000 acres had recently been burned or was burnig up near Anderson when they arrived which made for difficult driving for it was very hazy and the smoke iiritated Luigi’s Alergy’s, the guy can smoke 4 packs a day but a little wildfire’s gonna cause a frickon seizure give me a break, Luigi, I outta…… Finally at aproximately 4:20 am (and interestingly enough) they pull into the Anderson RV campground the following day, some 12 hours after leaving Girdwood a total of 326 miles somehow took 12 hours, according to my math and albeit 6th grade at best this calculates to approximately 27 mph. They obviously must have been abducted , probed and erased of any recolition since none of them except Pan could remember how they got there and Pan wasnt talking, he simply and casualy grabbed his backpack and walked off into the wild, actually it was a kids playground.

Someone was screaming his name, Dude! I cant believe its you!” Holy Shit man, get up, its tommorow!!” they ranted on but he was dead to the world. In and out of slumber these spectors tried to awaken him but to no avail for he was spent. there he lay in the catbox with Hot Ass Sand Nymphs swinging away under the midnite Sun, almost oblivious. He awoke under a blistering 7:00 am Sun beating on him like a hot skillit, he was in some kind of enclosure seemingly meant to protect children from pygmy bears as it was only 18 inhes tall and made of plastic. His backpack lay strewn about the sands like the spice route. His clothes which were soaked from the previous days rain was hanging in the various swings, slides, see-saws….. but he didnt remember doing it, must have been them Sand Nymphs rifling through his shit looking for the goods. He spied what appeared to a woman looking inside the ladies restroom as if a bear or something was in it which only proved to be Paddy strolling out trying to pull up his fly with a somewhat bewildered look on his face and for sure as I write this I can attest to the fact he probally pissed all over the seat.

From what the other vendors stated is that we pulled into a quiet section and proceeded to scorn and beat the hell out of eachother while trying to assemble that huge ass tent the size of Noah’s Arc being both sleep and alcohol deprived. I guess some other vendors came over and put it up for them as they figured it was a better ends to the means they were attempting. talk about some shitty looks the next day, didnt bother Johhny as he was busy dry heaving, Luigi was imagining terrible beast that were going to come out of this wilderness and eat him, Paddy just stared off into the trees mumbling some mathematical equation or something. Pan seizing the day grabs a beer and pounds it. Time: 9:29 am. Friday.

ANDERSON BLUGRASS SCHEDULE  (Fri.7/31/09)

Stackhouse 

Ice Jam

Bluegrass OG’s

Last Frontier

New Cut Road

White Twang

It was sort of comical to say the least to watch all the vendors greet the day with a flurry of activity. They were all setting up their kitchens and cooking up their grub and all these vagabonds had to do was sober up, warm it up and sell. That is before they spilled the cooler and were promptly attacked by Alaskan Killer Hornets who by the way can smell fear and targetted the old & weak. It was something to see the New york crew seemingly fight off some unseen assailant that didnt seem to affect the vendors on either side of them. Pan went out to the 660 acre park that was built as a overflow aquaduct for the Nenana in times of extreme flooding. Trucks w/ trailers, RV’s, buses of all makes and sizes, Harley Davidsons, Kenworth’s came one and all in droves. Soon tipee’s, tents, inginious car/tent/housing projects were erected. People were gearing up for the music and you could feel the excitement in the air. The plan was to sell the Sausage & Peppers in the booth then after the music shut down, start walking around w/ a hot bag full of grub to the starving people down on the river and in the forest. So there he was with a hot bag like the pizza delivery guys use walking through the dark Alaskan nights with 20 dogs, at least 5 hippies and probally a brown bear or two in tow. “Get your New York Sausage over here!” he yelled from camp to camp, at first everyone just stared at him then a few revelrers recognised his voice, “PANDO!? Is that you?……….”

And so it started with a few freinds needing some food to get it out there and the word got out that this was some quality goods especially sincee it was 4:20 in the morning and everything was shut down and people were getting rummy. the only problem was that people didnt have that much money but had things to barter , you know hippie stuff mushrooms, acid, weed and drink, oh god………. Needless to say that when he returned to camp the next day and was confronted by the Siclian Mobsters wanting their take, they were a bit dismayed to say the least when he showed up with $43.17 instead of $200. ” Pando! have you been selling our product for drugs/” Paddy asked. Pando with one fully dialated eye and the other wandering up into the distance stated simply, ” Uh….. I…..well you see, whoa! whats that?.” Paddy in turn ” Pando I will slice your belly open like a FUCKIN Salmon asshole GO TO BED!” Your Fired!! Problem was he couldnt sleep since he was hallucinating so bad so continued to wander into the woods as dawn broke. Mescilito and Kokepeli dancing feverihly with Taiga Nymphs in tow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s