The South: Part I

AUSTIN

NEW ORLEANS - PIRATE RADIO

Between all the free film and cheap/free developing I realized I should be shooting way more. I'm taking the camera with me everywhere starting now.
- Larsen

Austin

It's hard for me to write about a city that I already feel so comfortable in. When we got to Austin, it felt like we just got home, like we were taking a break from the tour. But I like being consistent, and it was just as much part of the trip as the other places, only way more familiar, so I'll just try to remember as much as I can about our time in Austin and write it down any way. The first night, Rob and Adonis took us out to get food from their work. We got fed every day by our friends in food service jobs, and it was all delicious! On the way to the carts, Rob got pulled over and ticketed for riding on the sidewalk/running a red light, which was pretty lame, but then it was redeemed when we got some free + amazing japanese/korean food, mmm pork belly. The night ended "early", as in we didn't end up doing much else, but it was probably pretty late by the time we crashed out.

On Thursday, Mims, her friend Kyle, and I went to a seasonal watering hole that had just filled up from the rain a few days ago. The water was amazing, but I felt a little sick, so I didn't get to fully appreciate it. That night I stayed home and recovered while the others went out bowling and drinking. Friday, woke up and felt much better, got some delicious vegan ice cream and worked on the motorcycle all day. First, we had to take off the wheels, and take them to the shop to get them swapped with some new tires Larsen had. We took the wheels to Bub's, a Harley shop on Cesar Chavez. Larsen was geeking out over all the old motorcycle parts. They put the tires on for us, and cut us a great deal (was going to be 60-70, but they did it for 40). We brought it back to Mim's and worked on it some more, replaced the fuel filter, fixed the clutch lever, replaced the breaks, put some lube in some places, cleaned some shit out, put some shit back together, got attacked by mosquitos, then by the time we were done it was about 11pm. Then we got on the bike and met up with some Skidmarxxxx at Double Down. We showed up right as it was closing, so we followed the group to the house where the Skull By party was. We watched some girls play shitty pool and drank home brew, then I drove a drunk Marcus home in his van while Larsen took the motorcycle alone. On the way home, I see Larsen riding in the opposite direction next to Rob on his tall bike. Apparently they went to see if Aprille had arrived from LA yet, but she wasn't home (what a dick).

Next day, a bunch of us spent the day at Uncle Billy's Bar&Que, and got day drunk, then we all rode over to the Yellow Bike Project and ate some vegan donuts and drink free beer for days, LarMarMims leave early and I stayed to watch the yellow and black marching band (can't remember what they are called). Later on Larsen and I headed over to Highball and Mim's gave us a tour, which included visiting Kyle in the DJ booth and partying in some random person's karaoke room. The whole place is impressively decorated and easy to get lost in, way classier than the people inside. Afterwards we hit up Whataburger for their reknowned "honey butter chicken biscuit" which is served on the 11pm-11am breakfast menu, and consists of honey, butter, and chicken in a biscuit. We also get a basket of chicken strips for Mimsy. When we get back to the house, to our dismay, we realized that they FORGOT THE BASKET (oh the horror!). So Larsen and I go back and we get a free texas toast and lemon pie in addition to our neglected chicken basket!!

On Sunday, we headed over to the deli Keely works at and grab the keys to her scooter, which Larsen fixed the first day we were in Austin, and she fed us some amazing highly acclaimed Ruben's and got a bag of Zapp's, cuz they remind me of New Orleans. Then, I finally got to ride my first motorized two wheeled vehicle! It was so insanely fun. Larsen rode on the back while I drove (role reversal's are fun too)! With the scooter, we went to the watering hole and met up with Mims and her room mate Phil. We waded around a bit and watched people get pulled around by rapids, then we said Hi to Nathan at a unicycle flag football game, then to Shangri-La for some more hanging out. Afterwards we all headed over to a party where Kozmo was hanging out where there was meat, crusties, beer, and friends. Bichael gave my back an assessment, it was creaked from the motorcycle ride and from trying to lift the scooter earlier on it's center stand. Since it was our last night in Austin, we said goodbye to every one, but we know it's only a short goodbye, because every time we come back, we see how close it really is to Los Angeles.

Grand Canyon, Durango, Big Lake County Hostel, Fuck West Texas

Grand Canyon

Durango "Hot Springs"

Bottomless lakes, Roswell

Getting arrested in Sterling County

Fresh out of the cell

No, do.

Getting back to the bike 

danger snakes

 Off hours drive-in movie concession shop

The Gas Tank

Photos by Andre Lansel

Artwork by Louise Chen

Come for vacation, leave on probation

*Some details have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.

Our trip took a turn for the worst, or at least most interesting, just as we made a right onto the 87 from La Mesa. It was the first time I felt the impulse to grab onto Larsen really tight, for really no reason at all, since we left Roswell. As soon as I had a good grip on him, he sped off, going from 30-100 in a matter of seconds. He zipped through the cars and carved like a mad man, and all I could think of was how good it felt to go that fast. For a split second I heard myself think – maybe I shouldn’t let him go this fast, everyone said to keep an eye on him, and keep him from doing anything reckless. But that thought vanished as quickly as it came, and all I could think of was the vibrations of the bike, and holding on as tight as I could to this speed demon on Baphomet. Then, all of a sudden, I feel him slow down, and to my left, spot a squad car flipping around from the other side of the freeway. Larsen comes to an immediate stop, after the squad car basically cuts us off and then has to turn back around pull up behind us. I notice that another squad car drives past, and then turns around and parks facing us. The officer in front of us comes out with a pistol and tells us to put our hands up. I’m told to “get off the bike, walk slowly away from the bike, and put my hands above my head". At first I couldn't hear what they were saying because my helmet was on and my ear buds were in, so I pulled off my helmet and put it on the ground and then turned around as per their request, and walked backwards towards the officer behind us. I clumsily walk into the officer, so he sets me straight and instructs me to clasp my hands together behind my head. He asks if I have any weapons on me, I say “no”, and then they tell me to take off all of my gear and put it on the hood of the squad car. Of course they found nothing of interest, except the black and white feather that Spencer gave me before we left, that I had in the left breast pocket of my leather jacket, which the officer remarked as “pretty”.  I look over and Larsen is getting padded down, not a protesting bone in his body. I see him getting handcuffed. 

I ask the officer dealing with me if my friend is getting arrested, and he said “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask the sheriff”, then I ask him “Can he get arrested for speeding”, the officer says “No, but he can for evading arrest”. I think to myself, but that doesn’t make any sense, unless of course we had Crystal Castles bumping too loudly and couldn’t hear the cop car behind us at the first county line where they say they detected us going 80 mph, then at the second where they clocked us at 122 mph, or perhaps it was because squad cars can't touch 120, especially if they're stopped on the side of the highway, so there would have been no way for Larsen to know that we were being followed. The sheriff walks over and thanks officer Juarez for detecting this SOB on the radar. I smell bullshit, but that doesn’t give me much, so I just pry for more information. I find out that we showed up on Officer Juarez’s radar at the county line, and he put on his sirens after us, then we sped off at 120, and then the other dude was called to try and meet us further ahead, or so they say. I also find out that they are taking him to Big Lake, which is the closest town with a jail, about an hour and a half away, and that they can’t give me a ride any further than a gas station half a mile in the opposite direction, and that they are taking the bike. Fuck Texas. As soon as I realize that I’m probably going to get stranded for a little bit, I ask them if I can take some things out of the bike before they take it away. They let me, but first they go through everything on the bike. I open up my paneer and grab my laptop + charger, cell phone charger, my dress, and my diva cup. The officer assisting me with this task asks to look at the diva cup, wants to know if there is dope in it. Part of me was amused that a Texas Highway Patrolman was holding my diva cup in the cute little polka dot drawstring bag I made for it before we left, checking inside it for dope. I close up the paneer and ask to grab my backpack, to stash all the things I was about to take with me into stranded-dom. I open it up to let them see what’s all inside. Regular backpack stuff, except for my keychain, which had a small brass canister attached to it. The perfect size for my stash of DOPE, is what the officer’s face stated when he discovered it. 

He asks me what I keep inside of it, I say “sugar, but I used it all on my last cup of coffee”, which is the truth. He goes, “You better hope it turns out to be sugar when I take it to the lab”, and I go, “I promise. I’m addicted to caffeine. “ He points out that it’s not very much sugar, and I say “It’s as much as I need”, and add that “I use artificial sweeteners, they are stronger” which IS a lie, because there was only real sugar in that canister, and I put it there to be funny, and really did use it on my last cup of coffee, and it really was just enough. I ask if I’m going to get the small Tupperware container back in which the sugar was held, but the officer just scoffed at me. Then he took off the gold canister where the Tupperware was housed, which was attached to my faux lucky rabbits foot on the same hoop. I asked if he was going to take the rabbit’s foot too, and he said “No”, and then removed it from the hoop. Finally, I checked the locked compartment on the dash, to see if Larsen had left his phone in there, but found mine instead. I had stashed it in there earlier because it was dead, and totally forgot about it. Then I was told to walk back over to the other vehicle and wait. Larsen was put in the squad car opposite me, too far away for us to communicate. Eventually they all left, and officer Juarez was "nice enough" to take me to the local gas station half a mile away to sort out my situation. He suggests I hitchhike to Big Lake which is about 90 miles away, and I say “I wish I had some mace, I don’t feel safe being a girl hitchhiking somewhere in the middle of nowhere”. I was hoping to make officer Juarez feel as guilty and awkward as possible within those few minutes to the gas station, and I think it worked. I thanked him graciously, and he told the clerk at the gas station that I would be hanging out for a little bit until I found a way to Big Lake.

The clerk was a nice young lady, who let me charge my phone. I asked a lot of questions, and got a few answers. I asked her about the wireless, so I could go on facebook and seek help, she said the boss was the only one who knew it, and he was gone for the day. I asked her how far Big Lake was, she didn’t know, and had never heard of it. I asked her if hitchhiking was illegal, she said no, in fact the officers around these parts have been known to help hitchhikers, a few have been dropped off at her gas station. She asked me what happened, and I told her. She then proceeded to tell me what seemed like the longest vaguely related story ever, about how her boyfriend and his sister got arrested with her in the car, and how she cried like a baby. She offered me a ride to the closest city when she got off at 6, but I couldn’t wait that long. I let my phone get a little bit of juice, then I turned it on and listened to my messages, sure enough, the second was from Larsen. It went “Call AAA, have them tow the bike to where they are taking me, my card is in my wallet, as them for it”. My heart sank, too bad my phone was dead when that message would have mattered, too bad I didn’t think to do that myself, too bad, too bad. After panicking for a minute and realizing that I had fucked up, I called around and found out where the bike was (Robert Lee, 30 miles from the gas station in Watervalley), and how much it would cost to get it out (265), and that Larsen had to get it out.  I started asking everyone in the station if they were headed to Big Lake, everyone was going the opposite way. 

Finally, I decided to go out onto the road, so I made a cute little sign and said thankyougoodbye to the nice lady clerk. It took me about 15 minutes to get a ride. The man who picked me up was a sharp looking black man, driving a shiny 6 wheeled truck. He said I looked out of place and stranded, so he had to turn around to get me. Before we even exchanged names, he handed me a blunt and asked if I wanted a hit. I said YES PLEASE.

This dude was really legit. Here is why:

1. He runs a company that operates cranes that install and move oil rigs, which he started from scratch.

2. He was recently dumped by his girlfriend because he works too much, and wants to become a millionaire in the next 5 years rather than appease his baby mama.

3. He believes in fate and the random cosmic energy that makes good things happen and brings good people together.

4. We stop at an oil rig along the way that has already been fallen, and he offers his crane services to a group of very confused looking white dudes.

5. He used to be a drug dealer, but now is a businessman that makes over $100,000 a week and lives in a $1100 a month 3 bedroom house in Houston.

6. He looks like he lives in Baldwin Hills and has the AC on full blast.

He told me all about the oil rigging business, and how there is a big boom in this area of Texas right now because of the recent discovery of oil within shell rock, so he is here to join in. His company is called DGAF Rigs. The whole way there, he points out oil rigs, and cranes, and crane dollies. It’s fascinating. He was on his way to Midland to meet with a potential business partner, about some “sheisty” under the table dealings having to do with monopolizing the rigs and crane aspect of the oil industry. He said it was my lucky day, because no matter what he would not leave me stranded. We ended up driving about an hour out of his way to get me to Big Lake, but he said it was alright, and this is what’s called the butterfly effect, because if he hadn’t picked me up, he wouldn’t have stopped to talk to those people along the way, and he wouldn’t have had a chance to meet a nice pretty girl like myself. I offer to do any graphic or logo design pro bono, I practically owed this man my life. I notice that his card says his name is “Jeffrey Hadnot”.  I giggle and think about the position I’d be in if he “Hadnot” picked me up. We reach Big Lake finally, and it’s tiny. The jail is about 1000 ft. from the border of town.

We locate the jailhouse/courthouse/townhall, then he drives around the block to see if there are any bail bonds places. We don’t see anything, so he drops me off in front of the jailhouse and wishes me good luck. I walk in and the place is quiet and empty. After hunting around for some sort of personnel, I find a button next to a door that says “push for assistance”, I feel like I am in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate factory, and oompa loompa’s are about to come out of a door and take me away. Finally, a lady chimes “How may I help you”, “I’m looking for a Larsen Farrell”, “Just a moment, someone will come outside to assist you”. A few minutes later, a short, stubby oompa loompa looking lady comes out and tells me a few things, and makes me wait a bit longer. I give Katbear a call again, to kill some time and get some comforting advice. She’s at deep creek with Rex, that makes me happy. She laughs at the details of our ordeal, and arps the anxiety away. A while passes, and I get a call from Larsen. It seems informal in there, he’s talking to the jailer and is allowed to call me back after calling the bail bonds man. I’m starting to feel feverish (literally), and now awaiting a call back from either Larsen’s mom, or the bail bonds man, to hopefully get him out tonight. Finally, I get a call back from Dania, Larsen’s mom. She’s very calm about everything, and tells me to consider this a sign from the universe that Larsen needs to take it slower, no need to rush when you’re not trying to meet a deadline. She also says that he gets instant Karma, in the same way that he is able to manifest things. Lucky for us, a bail bond and impound fee will be the only damage. Unfortunately, the bail bonds man calls me back soon after and tells me that we can't get him out tonight, it will have to happen first thing tomorrow morning.

Sleeping in a jailhouse lobby isn’t as bad as you’d think. The temperature is controlled at a cozy room level. I found a nice bench that was the perfect size for me to sleep on, against a hallway that was less traveled and away from the main entrance. Nobody bothered me at all while I slept through the night and into the early morning. I was expecting at least a few questions, but I didn’t get as much as a tap on the shoulder. I figure they get people like me spending the night in the lobby, waiting for their loved ones all the time. There was a bathroom, a couple water fountains, an outlet, and even a vending machine. I felt quite comfortable during my stay at the jailhouse lobby inn. It was also mostly me in the room, people passed through only once in a while, but nobody seemed to stay in the room for more than a couple seconds. The next morning I awoke to the footsteps of Rangers walking by me. At about 9 am, I get a call from the bail bonds man, and he says he’ll be over there in about half an hour, it takes him an hour and a half, but finally he shows up. After the paperwork is done, I see Larsen being escorted out, thankfully with a smile on his face. But of course, he got fed (twice, and apparently this jail is known for it's good food...wtf??), had a warm bed to sleep in, books, a TV, and a warm shower. Lucky SOB! 

The bail bonds man gives us a ride to San Angelo, which is still about 60 miles from Sterling City, where Larsen still needs to go to pay some fines to release his bike, which is then another 30 miles away. We get another ride from the bail bonds office to the mouth of the highway, where we make a nice sign and are given a free fountain drink from the gas station, and a tip to move up the street to avoid getting harassed by cops. A cop pulled over to talk to us once, he got a call from some concerned citizens thinking we were some kids trying to run from something. He wished us luck and let us get back to hitching. Eventually we got picked up by a lovely man in a truck (I guess everybody drives trucks in Texas), who said he was going to Sterling City to pick up a roll of plastic for gasoline. It was pretty serendipitous that he was going to Sterling, because when he saw us, we were hitching without the signs to see if it would work better. Apparently it did!

We get in the car, and immediately he offers us an entire meal, an untouched hamburger and French fries. What a fucking guy, I was so grateful, all I had eaten in the last 24 hours was an orange that I got from Food Not Bombs in Durango. He also offered to take us to Robert Lee after Sterling City, which is where the motorcycle got impounded. At the courthouse in Sterling City, Larsen pays his debts and gets back his pocketknife. I also get my gold canister back; the results came back clean, go figure. Then we walked down to the Stripes gas station, and sure enough, our friend Adrian was lowering a huge roll of plastic onto his truck. We got back in the truck and drove to Robert Lee, another 30 miles away. At some point in the last 24 hours, the bike, Larsen, and I were all in different counties of west Texas. Finally, all three troops would be in the same place at once. Right before we got out of the truck, Adrian handed me a 100 Dollar bill. Thanks to the kindness of strangers, we made it out of west Texas alive, and finally got on our merry way to our family in Austin.

Bail bonds man: 325 655 7307

*Some details have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.

Leaving Flagstaff, Durango + Roswell

OK! Short(ish) recap of the last night in Flagstaff, Durango, and Bottomless Lakes near Roswell:

Flagstaff is so small that when there is something going on that night, it’s the only thing going on. The last night we were in town, the thing going on was a cross dress karaoke party. HT was getting dolled up by the girls, he looked stunning. He actually looked like a decent girl, hair curled, lips rouged, and a tight sparkly floor length dress. I let him wear the bullet necklace that Alexis made, it looked perfect with his outfit, he looked like a mafia wife. Larsen got a hipster chick makeover, a mini skirt from the campus dumpsters, my black knee highs, my leather jacket, my red scarf, and red sunglasses. I put on my leather pants and dawned Larsen’s leather jacket, hoodie, and Ridazz bandana. The best dressed of the night was Blake, another big house mate. When he walked in wearing a bright pink Quinceañera dress, face powder white and cheeks lipstick red, his long hair braided into a bun and topped off with a large butterfly clip, I nearly died. We decided his name should be Mariposa. 

After we all got dressed up and assigned each other gender appropriate names (Larsen and HT were Mercedes and Porscha), we headed out for the party, which was three houses down on the other side of the street. Some jungle juice, youtube karaoke, deep drunken conversations, familiar faces, and hours later, we headed back to the big house to play a game of Qatan. After a few turns, we decided it was futile and started packing away the game. That’s when the shit hit the fan. At some point, drunk girl aka Michelle’s tattoos became a point of interest for the boys, and she started feeling insecure about them. Being drunk and defensive, she attempted to seek out Blake’s tattoos so she could make fun of them. Not knowing where they were, she started stripping his top off and prying everywhere she could. In an attempt to apprehend this belligerent chick, Larsen grabbed her and tried to pin her down, which escalated into an all out brawl between the two of them. It was mostly just Michelle biting and squirming around and being crazy, while Larsen happily danced around her trying to avoid her attacks. Eventually after getting tied up and locked out and banished from the kitchen, she calmed down and left us for a bit. Until we went to bed, then she tried to get Larsen out of bed to “hang out” some more, but he shooed her off and said he’d see her before we left tomorrow. In the morning, she was much more docile, and said she didn’t remember a thing from the night before. And so, we left Flagstaff and headed towards the mountains to Durango.

We arrived in Durango at night, and was greeted by a tall, fluffy haired, girl named Teresa. All I knew was that her and Larsen met through bike porn. She served us tea and made us feel warm and cozy. We watched a movie and went to bed. The next day we headed out by car to run errands and visit the campus. Along the way we stopped by Food Not Bombs and had some breakfast pizza and awesome veggie stew. Afterwards, she took us to a secret hot tub an hour drive away. The story goes that this couple owned the hot tub in the 70’s and when they broke up, they couldn’t decide who should take it, so they just left it next to the hot springs. Over time, the hot tub became cemented into the earth through calcification of the natural minerals in the water (there were other stories but this one was the most interesting). It looked like a natural hot spring in the shape of a hot tub. A couple dudes and a lady were sitting in the tub when we got there, enjoying some beers. I started feeling a cold come on, so I kind of tuned out for the rest of the evening, and fell asleep on the ride home, and then on the couch that night. The next morning was rough, feeling achy and stuffy, I begrudgingly got out of my sleeping bag and packed. We fled before noon, with Austin on our minds.

We rode for what seemed like a really long time, through rolling green hills, desolate flat lands, decrepit ghost towns, and some really intense heat. By nightfall, we were in Roswell. I expected to see or experience some weird shit while we were there, but it was mostly just a lot of cheesy Alien marketing and a town like any other in the middle of nowhere. We found a campsite called Bottomless Lakes, just outside of town, made some dinner, and hid the bike and ourselves behind a tree for the night, so we could avoid paying camp fees. The next morning, we were able to escape before the rangers could spot us.

fuck walgreens

 Sand dunes South of Salton Sea

 In front of the Big House in Flagstaff, Arizona

 Just outside of Grand Canyon National Park

 Taken from the back of the bike

 The Grand Canyon

 Lake Havasu

 Grand Canyon

 Sweet side car

Salton Sea + Flagstaff

We got to the hot springs at Slab City at about 3am, and took a dip before going to bed. I woke up the next morning alone next to all of my gear, and at first didn't see Larsen or the bike, and in my sleepy disoriented state, thought some foul play was involved. As soon as I got up, I realized that the bike was hidden behind a van a few feet away, and Larsen was chatting it up with a fellow rider next to the springs. I walked over and introduced myself. His name was Jinx, and his bike was a honda shadow, it looked way too nice compared to the rider. He said he was riding North.

On our way out, we stopped by the slabs and attempted to get some free coffee at the Oasis Club, but they were closed for the summer, bummer. So we rode to Niland and got a burrito and beer for breakfast, got some friendly local directions and headed North East. The route led us to some Lawrence of Arabia sand dunes, just east of the Contra Sea camp grounds, as well as an RV camp ground on a river near Havasu Lake where we stopped for a while to rest. The water was clear and cold, perfect for the 95 or so degree weather we were riding in with our full leathers on. There was hardly anyone there, but apparently it's a spring break hot spot for the local college students, we just got lucky.

After riding for a while, we stopped at an overpriced gas station about 75 miles out of Flagstaff and saw a gang of Harley's across the street, so of course we followed them. They took us onto the historic route 66, and they turned out to be a group of middle-aged tourists who were riding rented harley's and being followed by a support vehicle. Pretty cheesy, but with a group of 15 or so motorcyclists, we were all able to go 95 and not worry about getting busted.

The place we're staying at in Flagstaff, Arizona is called the "Big House". It was once used as a half-way house before the wardens decided the kids were fornicating too often in the upstairs bathroom, and had to move it to a larger, one story location. They have shows here regularly and a pirate radio station set up next to the laundry room. The house next door is practically identical in look and feel, but the folks at the Big House say they are a "different kind of people".

Everything here is walking distance, but since there is no helmet law here, and the weather is warm and inviting, we've been taking Bæfɵmɛt out on the town. Tonight we're going to a cross-dress karaoke night. The local kids seem to have taken a liking to us,  and we've been invited to stay longer to check out some house shows and the local watering hole, but tomorrow we will make our way towards Durango and see what more adventures await.

Love,
Weezy