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rami-hoe · 5 years ago

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Circus Freaks Chapter One

Summary: Aspiring writer Barbara decides to follow the King Company Circus to get authentic inspiration for her book.

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Merriell Shelton x OC (slowburn)

The cab pulled into the lot just after 7:30. I’d woken up before six just to make sure I could get there on time, but I still arrived after the action had started. I handed my driver a handful of bills. “Keep the change,” I said. I scooted over to the door and pushed it open.

“Don’t forget your bag,” the driver called over his shoulder as he slipped the money into his pocket. I uttered a breathless ‘thanks’ and grabbed my bag as I jumped out of the car. The wheels began to turn before I had even closed the door. The rain spat down on my face and I pulled my umbrella out of my backpack. I lifted the straps onto my shoulders and pushed the umbrella open as I walked towards the hub of activity. A field of canvas was spread out over the lot, and the riggers bustled around it. They knotted ropes and pounded stakes deep into the ground as I ghosted through the lot. I made sure to give them a wide berth, but my mere presence was enough to warrant some pretty nasty looks. It was a bit of a relief that I wasn’t the only person on the receiving end of them, though. A handful of onlookers stood up on the hill; a man with a camera, snapping pictures no doubt meant to be developed in black and white and hung up with the other student art projects. A family stood beside him. The father kneeled down beside the kids and pointed at the canvas. Though I couldn’t hear what he was saying, I could imagine it was some quick remark about how, in just a few short hours, this place would be transformed, and they would be able to come back and enjoy the show. A small smile tugged at my lips. My father always brought me to the circus bright and early too, before it was set up. He told me it was important to appreciate the workers we didn’t get to see on stage. He always made me wave to them. Looking back, I’m sure our presence was something of a nuisance to them, and my waving did little to rectify that.

I pulled my backpack around and pulled my notebook out. I pulled the pen off the rings and flipped open to the first page. I stood on the sidelines and wrote, jotting down notes about the people and the venue. I made my way up the hill; I figured I’d be more out of the way there. The family had retreated to their car and driven off by the time I arrived, but the photographer was still there. He lowered his camera as I approached and shot me a smile.

“Here to watch the load in too?” he asked. I nodded and looked back down at my notebook. He shuffled over to me. “You a writer or something?” I tucked the book against my stomach as he tried to peer down at it, and turned to face him.

“Yep,” I said. “And I take it you’re a photographer.”

He chuckled. “Just a student for now,” he said. “But I’m working on it.” He fiddled with one of the many buttons on his camera. “I wanted to come down and get a few shots before it all went up,” he said. “Capture the reality before it becomes the fantasy.” He puffed out his chest as he gazed down at the landscape. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He turned back to me and gave me a look I could only assume was meant to be sophisticated contemplation, although it came across more like he was letting out a long, silent fart. Here it comes. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re absolutely stunning?” I could hold back the laugh that time, but I did manage to keep it down to a short chuckle that I was sure could pass as amusement. “You know, I would love to shoot you sometime,” he said. “Find a nice, quiet spot. Maybe a park. Lots of grass, maybe a few trees.”

I dragged my thumb along the side of the notebook. The soft paper was immobile beneath my skin. “Yeah… I just don’t think I have the time,” I said. “I’m gonna be pretty busy the next few months.” I swung the cover of my notebook around to close it and raised it up as a kind of barrier between out chests. “With writing and everything.”

He nodded and took a step back. “Fair enough,” he said. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small piece of cardstock. “But when you get back in town-” he handed the card to me “-why don’t you give me a call?”

I plucked the card from his fingers and smiled. “Sure,” I said. It was easier to throw the card away once he left than to argue with some stranger about why I didn’t want to go out with him. I tucked the card between the pages of my notebook, and he turned back to snap a few more pictures in a lunge far deeper than necessary. I wondered if he realized he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself before attempting to entice me with an intimate photoshoot.

The photographer, who remained nameless even as he trotted down the other side of the hill and revved his car to get my attention one last time before he drove off, didn’t stay longer than a half-hour. I wasn’t entirely sure what the point of the shoot was if he didn’t stay for the best part: the lifting of the tent. My dad always made us stay until the tent had risen up. He said it was the best part of the circus coming to town; seeing that canvas climb higher and higher into the sky. I couldn’t say I disagreed. When that canvas was on the ground, it was just a lot, but as soon as those ropes carried it up… It became something else entirely. When I was little, I used to look up at the tent and swear it was tall enough to touch the clouds. Even now, when I was old and tall enough to know better, I was mesmerized by the tent reaching towards the heavens.

The riggers’ job outside was done before long, and they moved into the main tent to set up the stage. It was about that time that the performers began to emerge from their trailers and head backstage. They weren’t in costume yet, but I liked to guess which performers they were; who were the acrobats, who were the clowns. Some of them had writing and pictures on the side of their trailers, but I was too far away to make them out clearly. I’d have to remind myself to try and get a closer look after the show; some of the artwork was truly incredible.

I waited up on that hill until I heard the music drifting out of the tent. Cars began to pull up into the lot and park. Families jumped out, and soon the excited squeals of children mixed with the music. My eyes fell on two kids who had gotten away from their parents. They ran up to the tent with the biggest grins on their faces, shouting back at their parents to hurry up. The couple walked hand in hand towards their kids, and all four of them disappeared inside the entrance tent. I descended from the hill and joined the wave of people moving towards the box office. My notebook was stashed safely away in my backpack as I greeted the ticket man with a smile. He barely looked at me; no doubt he would forget my face as soon as it was out of his sight.

I continued on into the main tent, and was rushed into the world of wonder the labourers had worked so hard to create this morning. It never ceased to amaze me how they could create something so awe inspiring in just a few short hours. I found a seat near to the front and placed my backpack between my feet. I leaned against the chair back and watched the people file into the tent. The audience filled up before long. It must have been a sold out show, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. This town didn’t get a lot of special events like this. The circus was a rarity, and it looked like everyone had come out to take advantage of the opportunity.

I would say a hush fell over the audience when the lights dimmed, but that wasn’t entirely accurate. Something vaguely resembling a hush, with the exception of children’s voices, practically vibrating with anticipation, asking if it was starting, and the parents in the audience shushing them. The ringmaster stepped out from behind the curtain and strutted to the center of the ring. He raised his hand and earned silence in return.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he called out, his booming voice reaching every inch of the tent. “Boys and girls. Prepare to be amazed, dazzled, and delighted!” The children in the audience cheered as the ringmaster, who introduced himself as ‘Ack Ack’, went through his speech. When he punched his finishing line: “welcome to the show,” the performers poured through the curtains in a bright display of pomp and pizzazz. Everybody in the audience under the age of ten jumped up and rushed to the barriers to get a closer look. The performers grinned and waved, some blowing kisses, others showing off a few tricks that hinted at what their act would be. Two men entered the ring with a series of handsprings and presented their agility to the audience. A woman adorned with blue spandex and gold glitter pranced and twirled, spinning a red ribbon around her body. A thin man wearing black slacks and suspenders over a bare chest brandished silver daggers that reflected the stage lights back at the audience. The sight of the sharp edges made the boys in the audience scream.

The parade of talented faded back into an empty stage, save for Ack Ack. He took a moment to thank the audience for coming, then the drums began to roll. Ack Ack sauntered around the outer edge of the ring, smirking at the audience. The lights over the house were off; I was sure he couldn’t see any of our faces, but it still looked like he was trying to stare into the eyes of each and every person in the tent as he introduced the first act. They started off slow; clowns, stilt walkers, and jugglers performing small tricks to warm up the audience. Each act departed the stage with an abundance of cheers, and made way for the next. Ahk Ahk told the audience to prepare to be astounded by the acrobatic stylings of Sledgehammer, Daisy, and the PFC, and astounded we were. The two men flipped and tumbled on the floor while Daisy ascended high above the stage. No wires or harnesses aided her in her journey; just large bands of fabric draped from the ceiling. The climbed them seemingly without the burden of her own weight, and bent and contorted herself in the air. Every move she made was effortless. The men, on the other hand, seemed to be exerting quite a bit of effort. I could see the sheen of sweat covering their bodies from where I was sitting. Their lean muscles flexed as they moved about the stage. I saw more than a few women in the audience eyeing them, while making a decided effort to ensure the men they came with didn’t see they were looking. Of course, the men in the audience didn’t have quite as much subtlety when it came to staring at Daisy. But then again, it wasn’t just the men; Daisy had captured the attention of a good portion of the women as well. I couldn’t say I wasn’t feeling just a little hypnotized by those legs myself. I could have enjoyed a full show of just the three of them, but their act couldn’t last forever.

The roar of applause during their exit almost drowned out Ahk Ahk introducing Fools and Errand. The girl sitting next to me, who couldn’t have been more than four years old gasped when she saw the two men standing up on the tightrope. That wasn’t the only time she gasped during their routine; she was rather mesmerized by the performance. She let out a small shriek when Fools ‘lost his balance.’ He swung his arms in three large circles before flipping back off of the rope. His hands latched onto the rope just in time, and he swung back around. The little girl danced at the miraculous display, only to scream in horror when he toppled Errand off of the platform. The small man flipped over the safety railing; it took a keen eye to see the little jump that got him the height he needed. Fools stood proudly on his own while his partner fell back first into the safety net and bounced back up.

The filler act killed about fifteen minutes while two men dressed all in black rolled out a large wheel and set it up in the middle of the ring along with three small targets with balloons tacked onto them. The clowns strolled off the stage as Ahk Ahk announced the ‘deadly stylings of Snafu and Cherie.’ The pair sauntered out arm in arm. The heels lifted Cherie about four inches over Snafu, but his wild hair made up the difference. Cherie peeled off Snafu’s coat and tossed it to a stagehand. He was a skinny guy, but the lights revealed the definition of his muscles; his arms were… Well, impressive to say the least. But most people weren’t looking at his arms; they were looking at the knives he was holding, two in each hand. He juggled one rotation with the blades, the primary purpose of which seemed to be moving three of the knives into one hand. The drums rolled, and everyone in the audience held their breath as Snafu stepped in between the three targets. With one fluid motion, he extended his arm and threw the knife. It hit the balloon square in the center, which popped so loudly I wondered if they had microphones attached to the targets. He took out the remaining two targets with similar ease and speed. The audience erupted in applause as the final balloon exploded on its post, and Snafu raised his arms in victory. He held his hand out, and Cherie stepped forward to take it. He guided her over to the wheel and strapped her in as the stage hands removed the now empty targets. He secured her limbs and stepped back, pulling two blades from his belt. The drums rolled once again as he turned towards the target pulled his throwing arm back. A gasp moved through the audience as he flung the knife forwards. It landed about a foot and a half to the right of her stomach. After the second knife embedded itself in the wooden wheel on the opposite side, Snafu turned around and the audience, once again, applauded. But then the wheel started to turn, and the audience grew silent. He pulled the remainder of his knives, five in total, from his belt, and turned back to face Cherie. One by one, the knives flew. Some struck two feet away from her body, others merely six inches, but each thud of the metal burying itself in the wood pulled a cry from the audience. After the last dagger landed, the wheel stopped with Cherie left upside down. Snafu unlatched her and she flipped off the wheel with unbelievable grace. The pair took their bows to thunderous applause, and jogged back through the curtain.

The last act of the show was a daredevil who Ahk Ahk introduced as “Lucky.” He promised we would be holding our breaths through his performance, and he certainly wasn’t wrong. I was sure there was some sort of trick involved, that the risk to Lucky was negligible, or at the very least not as great as it seemed. Though he was a talented enough performer, and he certainly captured the interest of the audience, my thoughts remained with his predecessor. Snafu and Cherie’s act had left my throat dry and my heart pounding, and I wouldn’t be forgetting them any time soon. They could have been the closers if you asked me. No doubt they would say the same.

The final parade was met with even more cheers and applause. The children rushed to the barricades to wave at the performers as they circled the ring and disappeared back behind the curtains. I heard at least one child ask where they were going, and knew there were others in the crowd wondering the smile. I always wanted to know what lay behind that curtain. When I was a child, I thought it must be some kind of wonderland. Even now, when I was sure it was nothing more than a dressing tent crammed wall-to-wall with props and sweaty bodies, it was hard to let go of the fantasy.

I stayed in my seat while the audience began to clear out. The families were all eager to be the first ones out, and the first ones in line for the other attractions. I’d been to enough circuses to know what awaited them outside; a parade of flashy souvenirs and overpriced food, and for those to managed not to be tempted by those, a showman selling tickets to the sideshow. By the time I made my way out of the tent, half the crowd had already fallen victim to one of the many traps laid out to separate them from their money. I didn’t plan on being sucked in; I didn’t have a lot of money with me, and I couldn’t afford to waste it on cheap trinkets and double-fried junk.

The first employee I found without a ten-person deep line in front of them was one of the riggers. The wifebeater, jeans, and steel toes would have made that fact clear even if he wasn’t fiddling with one of the lines as I approached him.

“Hi,” I said with a smile. The look on his face told me loud and clear he wasn’t used to dealing with the public, and he had absolutely no interest in it. The poorly disguised loathing in his eyes gave me more than enough reason to seek out someone else to talk to, but there was no one within eyesight. I swallowed my nerves and tried to paint a friendly expression on my face. “I’m looking for the, uh, business manager?” His reply was an unchanging expression. “Or whoever handles the business operations.” He stood up and brushed his hands off of his jeans. The grease, the source of which I was still unsure of, left a brown smear across the faded blue denim. He shoved his wrench in his back pocket and walked passed me. Something told me I wasn’t supposed to follow him.

I went through two employees before I found one willing to talk to me when they realized I didn’t want to buy anything. He told me to ask the ticket man in the box office. The boy sitting behind the glass window couldn’t have been older than eighteen. He flipped through his magazine, either ignoring or unaware of my presence until I cleared my throat. All I got from him was a name and directions, but that was more than I had gotten from anybody else. I felt a little uneasy going backstage without an escort; I got the feeling I wouldn’t be overly welcome.

I went around to the side of the back tent and stepped through the canvas curtains. Props and costumes were littered everywhere; well, littered might not have been the best word. Everything looked like it was quite well organized, surprisingly. The objects were all sorted based on who they belonged to and who would be using them, but they were still everywhere. Organized chaos, that was the phrase. I followed the sound of voices through the tent until I spotted someone who looked like they actually belonged there. I had to squeeze by a costume rack to get to where he was sorting his blades into a cloth knife holder. “Excuse me,” I said. He barely glanced over his shoulder at me, but I figured that was the best I was going to get from him. “I’m looking for, uh… Gunny?”

He shoved the last knife into its pocket and rolled the cloth up. “He’s back there,” he drawled, gesturing to the right corner of the tent.

“Thank you,” I said. He tucked his cloth under his arm and turned around as I stepped forward to follow the all too narrow path to the corner Snafu had directed me to. I managed to stop my momentum before I bumped into him, but he didn’t move an inch. I stepped to the side, and he strutted passed me and made his way out of the tent.

The path through the tent was surprisingly easy to follow. I didn’t get turned around once, although I did get a few furrowed brows and narrowed eyes from the people I encountered on my way. I found Gunny, or least, the person I assumed was Gunny, sitting near the edge of the canvas at small fold out table he had made into his desk. I greeted him with a small ‘hi’ I tried not to let sound to timid. Circus people were all about confidence; I wasn’t going to win them over by acting like I was terrified just being back here, no matter how true that was.

Gunny eyed me up and down. “Can I help you?” Well, one thing was certain: he had far more people skills than most of his colleagues. I guess that would be a necessity, since he was the one working with the public to organize the show.

“I’m Barbara,” I said. I extended my hand towards him, and he gave it a quick compulsory shake. “I’m a writer, and I’m working on a story about a circus troupe.” Gunny stared at me without so much as blinking. I gave up on getting an initial reaction from him, and continued on. “I was hoping to follow your operation for the season. I want to make the story as authentic as possible.”

Gunny scratched his nose. “And what do you want from me?” he asked.

I blinked. “Well, uh…”

“You don’t need permission to follow us,” he said. “Our route is on the back of our flyer.”

“Oh no, I know that,” I said. “But I was hoping… Well, it’s just that, it’s the people I’m interested in more than the show.” The show was incredible, of course, but it was the characters I needed help with. I couldn’t make them seem real; I’d never met anyone like the people I was trying to create.

Gunny had returned his attention to his papers about halfway through my introduction. “Look, I can’t stop you from following us,” he said. “And if you wanna chat with my people after the show’s over, that’s fine too. Lot of them go out for drinks once we close.” He scribbled a quick note on one of the papers straying near the edge of the table. “The public isn’t allowed backstage, in the cook shack, or the trailers.” I chewed my bottom lip; I should have known I wasn’t supposed to be back here without an escort.

“Okay…” I got the distinct impression that was all I was going to get out of him. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” My face grew hot as I spun on my heels and hurried out of the tent. Really, I shouldn’t have been expecting that conversation to go any other way. The circus was a notoriously tight knit community; they didn’t like outsiders coming into their space.

The first group of circus goers dwindled off by the mid afternoon, but they were quickly replaced by the evening crowd. The 7:00pm show went off just as well as the first. I didn’t mind paying the second entry fee; it was worth seeing again. Just like last time, the performers left the stage with the audience on their feet, cheering and clapping. The crowd cleared out much faster with the evening show; the parents were eager to get the kids home and into bed before it got too late. A few couples stayed to play some of the games and have a snack before they left, but before long, the lot was empty. As the riggers made their second appearance of the night, to undo all the work they had done that morning, the performers began to trickle out of their trailers and make their way across the lot. Some I recognized from the show; most I didn't. Out of their makeup and costumes, a lot of them could be mistaken for an average person. Not all of them, but enough that this group of people walking along the side of the road didn't attract too much attention. None of them spared me a glance, but I was starting to feel just a little grateful I was so invisible to them; when they did look at me, it sure as hell wasn't with kind eyes. I trailed after them, well aware of just how like a stalker I was acting, until they arrived at their destination: a run down bar not far from the lot. The sign hanging over the door was completely burnt out, but the neon ring continued to glow around the word 'open' in the window. Looking directly at it left black splotches over my field of vision.

I slipped into the bar after the group. Most of them had made their claim to a handful of tables. A couple were at the bar ordering their drinks, and two of the men had set their sights on picking up one of the local women. The first, a man I didn't recognize, had plunked himself down in a group of women, and appeared to be chatting all of them up with equal attention. The second, Snafu, was leaning against the bar and whispering in a woman's ear. His hand was on her knee, and whatever he was saying was putting a big smile on her face. I hadn't come in two minutes after them; how the hell did he work that fast?

I spent the evening nursing a couple virgin drinks and doing my best not to stare at any one of them for too long at a time. I was hoping to fly under the radar tonight; I'd say I got what I wanted. The largest group was easy enough to observe; they made no attempt to stay quiet as they drank and joked. It was a great opportunity to get to see the group dynamics at play; how they interacted with each other when they were in an unfamiliar environment, the way they closed themselves off so subtly but so completely. But every so often, a giggle would draw my attention back to Snafu and his lady of choice. Every time I looked back, she was making it more obvious that all he had to do was say the word and they could go wherever he wanted. Playing with her hair, pushing her chest out, running her hand over his thigh, biting her bottom lip oh so seductively. But every time I looked over, there they were. Still in the bar. Fully clothed. I didn't understand it; Snafu could have taken her back to his trailer five minutes after he walked into the building. What was he waiting for? I got the only answer I was going to get around one in the morning, when the group settled their tab and made their way out of the bar. Snafu got up to follow. His lady friend gripped his arm, either asking him to stay or asking if she could go with him; I couldn't hear the specifics. Either way, Snafu's answer was very clearly no. He pulled his arm away, shoved his hand into his pocket and tossed a couple of crumpled bills on the bar. The bartender nodded and counted out the cash. I craned my neck to see; it couldn't have been more than a few dollars, but he had been drinking all night. The woman turned on her stool and stared down at the counter as Snafu made his way over to the group. He pulled a box of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and took one between his lips. As he flicked his lighter on and held it to the end of the cigarette, the other man, who hadn't had quite as much luck with his girls' night out group, scurried over and clapped him on the shoulder. I squinted my eyes and scanned the familiar features of his face, trying to place him.

"The hell you wan', Peck?" Snafu muttered around the cigarette.

Peck nodded towards the woman he had abandoned at the counter. "You done with her?" he asked.

Snafu took the cigarette between his fingers and blew out a long stream of smoke directly into Peck's face. "She's all yours," he said.

The lot of them left the bar. Peck, and Snafu's friend followed a few minutes after, and I was left in the bar with handful of drunk locals. I left the money for my last drink on the counter and walked into the night. The wind moved right through my jacket and left goosebumps over my skin. I shivered and wrapped the fabric over my torso, hunching my shoulders and scampering off to my motel room. The train to their next location left at seven in the morning; I had to try and get a little sleep before I had to get up again.

***

Notes:

-Ill tempered when dealing with the public on a casual level

-Don't talk to outsiders

-When they leave the lot, they stick together

-If they take someone back to their trailer, they don't spend the night

-Us versus them mentality

I sighed. It wasn't enough. I needed to get to know these people, to see how they behaved up close and personal, but they wouldn't let me anywhere near them. I'd been following them for six shows, and I was lucky if I could get any of them to say two words to me once the show was over. After their first show, I'd gone on a strict budget. I didn't have a lot of money and I needed to stretch it out as long as I could. But even staying at the cheapest motels and riding nothing but public transportation, my cash was running out at a rapid pace. I had one more show left, maybe two if I didn't eat. But it wouldn't be enough. One or two more shows weren't going to get me what I needed. Nine or ten wouldn't either. As long as I was just a follower, I would always be "them," and they would want nothing to do with me.

It surprised me that, considering how they felt about the public in their spaces, nobody bothered to tell me to leave when I went into the back tent to find Gunny. I got some questionable looks, sure, but nobody asked me what I was doing or told me I shouldn't be back there. Gunny was in his usual corner of the tent, but he wasn't alone when I arrived; another man leaned against the edge of his desk. Gunny's eyes fell on me, and their conversation came to a halt.

"You're back," he said. The other man turned over his shoulder and looked me up and down. My eyes widened when I got a proper look at his face; it was Ack Ack, the ringmaster. God, he looked different out of costume. Gunny waved me forward and I walked to the front of his desk. "What is it now?" Not exactly the friendliest of greetings, but at least he wasn't telling me to fuck off.

I had planned out exactly what I was going to say, but with both men staring at me, but well prepared statement fell right out of my head. "I, well, uh, I just- I mean, I was hoping I could ask-"

"Spit it out," Gunny said.

I took a breath. "Is there anything I can do, in terms of helping around?" I asked. "I'd like-"

"A job," Gunny finished for me. He chuckled. "Run outta money, huh?" My lips parted to respond, but he didn't give me the chance. "Look, we don't have anything for someone like you, okay?"

I couldn't say that wasn't the answer I had been expecting, but my heart still sank in my chest when I heard it. Part of me had been holding out hope that... Well, it didn't matter now. "Okay," I said. "Thanks anyway."

Ack Ack shifted on the desk as I stepped back. "Could always use another shill around," he said. It wasn't directed at me, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks.

Gunny shook his head. "We have shills," he said.

"No," Ack Ack said. "We have artists you make do shill work after the show." He placed his hand behind him and leaned over it to stretch out his back. "They don't like it, and they half ass it."

Gunny folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "She's a gilly," he said.

"Then she'd be a perfect shill," Ack Ack said.

Gunny turned his eyes back to me. It felt like hours before he finally shook his head and spoke. "We can't pay you," he said. "You'd get three square meals a day, a bed in the cook shack, and a ride to the shows."

"That's fine," I said. "That's perfect."

He turned back to Ack Ack. "And since it was your idea, she can ride with you." Ack Ack chuckled and slid off the desk. "Now both of you get the hell outta here," Gunny said, returning to his paperwork. "Can't get any damn work done around here," he muttered.

I followed the path out of the tent with Ack Ack hot on my heels. I squinted as we stepped out into the sun, and turned back to him. "Thank you," I said.

"Don't," he said. "I saw an opportunity to help my people out and I took it." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing to do with you, gilly." He brushed by me and pointed to a small tent behind the other two. "That's the cook shack," he said. "Meals don't always happen at the same time every day, but there'll always be three of them." He led me far enough around the tent so we could see the trailers. "That's mine up front," he said. "We make the jump at four. If you're not there, I'll leave without you." I didn't doubt that.

"What exactly does a shill do?" I asked.

"I was getting to that," Ack Ack said. "What you do is make sure the clems spend as much cash as they have," he said. "Go to the blowoff, play the games, look like you're having a good time." He sniffed. "You get your float from me. Make sure the operators know your face before you start and they'll rig the games for you. Got it?" There were a couple words in there that I didn't understand, but I made my assumptions from the context and nodded; I didn't want him thinking I was completely useless before I even started. "Good," he said. "Stay out of the roustabouts' way, don't oach, don't pick fights, and you should be okay." He held his hand out and I shook it. "Welcome aboard, gilly."

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#merriell shelton #the pacific #snafu shelton #circus freaks

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microshiner · 5 years ago

Text

Ska, craft spirits, and Colorado's real drinking town

The hangover bell rings loud and clear in my head as I lift a 70 pound guitar cabinet into the back of a white 2000 Ford Econoline XL. Rain falls lightly. I am running on only a few slovenly hours of sleep but despite the pounding head, my mood is jovial. My band mates and I recount the night before over and over. In the world of ska music, there are few bands more respected than Hepcat, and few bands more infamous than Mephiskapheles, and we just shared the stage with both in one night. It was also the kick off to the second leg of our spring and summer run- this morning we hit the road out of Denver and head for Durango, Colorado, where we’ll spend a week in the studio and follow it up with two shows in the area including a performance at the legendary Ska Brewing Company.

Alright.

Personally, I am excited for more than one reason. I went to school in Durango, but it’s been six years since I’ve lived there and from what I can tell, the drinking scene has only gotten better. A new craft distillery just opened up, and the number of breweries has jumped from 4 to 6 (All this in a town of 17,000. Fort Collins gets the glory, but at over 150,000 residents, are their 14 breweries and 3 distilleries that impressive? Which is the real drinking town?)

I contemplate this and other pressing issues to pass the time on a 7 hour haul over the Rocky Mountains. As we climb in elevation, my mood levels off. It always does when passing time in the van. Whether I am headed somewhere new or somewhere I’ve been many times, as long as it’s light outside touring has always had a bit of a weird vibe to me. The late nights, the shows, the people, the free drink tickets - that is what it’s all about and what makes it worth it. The rush of playing a good show is matched by no drug or other experience I’ve ever had. But during the day, driving through the middle of nowhere to the next town while getting further and further away from your personal life back home, the anxiety creeps in.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never been in a band at a level where touring was our income. I’ve always had to hurry back home after each run and get to work in order to keep the bills paid. Right now, it’s about 9:30 on Monday morning. Everyone I know (except the three guys sitting here with me) is at work, or walking the dog, or heading to the bank, something normal.

Don’t get me wrong, there is certainly a level of awesome to all this. I’m never going to be a ‘company man.’ I knew that by the time I hit high school. I take a lot of pride in what I do for a living and for a hobby. But the older I get, the harder I find it to relate the stories of the road and the stories of the pen and the stories of so many nights passed in rock clubs to people who are my age but haven’t had a night out in months. The word ‘baby’ means something entirely different to them.

As Vonnegut would say - So it goes. We pull into town just in time for happy hour but unfortunately the liquor store will have to suffice for tonight; we’ve got to get to the studio. Tomorrow I will have the opportunity to experience some of the actual culture of this town I’ve missed so much.

Tuesday morning I am walking down Main Avenue bright and early in a leisurely search for a cup of coffee and a paper. Part of me feels like a Texan, stopping to gaze into each store window as I pass by and then actually purchasing, after looking around to make sure no one I know is in sight then ducking quickly into the storefront, a “Durango” t-shirt. I’ll have to bury this down in my backpack so my bandmates never see it. I justify the window shopping and eventual purchase as a mere way to pass some time before my scheduled meeting with some real locals, the owners of Durango Craft Spirits, at 10 o’clock.

I walk into the tasting room to meet owners Michael and Amy McCardell. Immediately I can tell that the duo lives by their motto and are ‘Inspired by the true spirit of Durango’ - It is only 10 am but the room is full of bluegrass music and the McCardell’s beckoning call for a drink. Michael handles the distilling of what is currently their sole offering - Soiled Dove Vodka, made from a mash of 60% native grown, non-GMO white corn they get directly from the Ute Mountain Tribe of Ute in Towaoc, Colorado (just a little over an hour from Durango). His soft voice, with a bit of a country tinge, makes even a short sentence sound well-rehearsed and wise. Perfect for telling stories, and I’m guessing he has a lot of them.

Lucky for me, Michael is not at all shy about telling the story of Durango Craft Spirits, his pride and joy.

It is, I learn quickly, Durango’s first post-prohibition, grain-to-glass distillery. “We’ve got a couple friends over at Ska, Dave (Thibodeau) and Bill (Graham), that opened Peach Street Distillery, in Grand Junction) years ago and one day I met the old distiller and Bill brought in one of their first bottles of gin, along with a bottle of Bombay Sapphire,” Michael says. “It was just unbelievably so much better. That first opened my eyes to craft distilling.”

This was over ten years ago, and until that day Michael had no plans at all of going into the distilling business. “A couple years later, I’m hiking around a piece of property up north with the county assessor, and he said ‘I gotta tell you this story. There’s a buddy of mine who thought he found some ancient Anasazi ruins on his property and he wanted me to come check them out. They hiked up there on a cliff to an Anasazi looking wall and there was an old still sitting back there.’”

He decided to do some research and try to figure out what kind of distilling was done in the area. “I started reading a few books about distilling in the area, and there was quite a bit done,” Michael says. “Especially turn of the last century when the silver market took a crash. A lot of the miners took to cooking booze in the mines.”

With his interest piqued, Michael attended three distilling schools and landed himself an internship at Wood’s High Mountain Distillery in Salida, CO, with the intention of opening his own show in Durango once he learned about the operational side. Both Michael and Amy had spent years in the local hospitality industry managing hotels and a golf club.

As their current jobs came to end due to sell offs, the decision was made to go full-steam with the distillery concept. Step one, securing a location. Where They landed right on the corner of 11th and Main, in the heart of downtown, and opened in January of this year.

Their setup is pretty simple - tasting room in the front, still setup and work area in the back (visible to guests), and office off to the side. Nice and cozy. “We go grain to glass right in the building with all regional grains,” Michael says. “We’re real proud to mash, distill, and bottle right in house.” I had been sold on their concept already, but at this point I could not continue the interview without trying some of their product.

Amy, generally in charge of the tasting room and PR, hands me a pour from behind the bar. I stir, smell, and sip. Then I gasp.

I am not a vodka drinker. My taste for the stuff was ruined by too much Smirnoff as a teenager. But this morning I am happy to make an exception. This stuff is good. Smooth, one of those spirits that you know would be perfect in a cocktail but it almost seems like a sin to dilute it, like a fine scotch. Until you realize that a vodka of such high quality could finally allow you to drink those plastic-bottle vodka infused party concoctions you swore off in your mid-twenties because you can’t stand the headaches any more, minus the headache. “I use a pretty strange recipe for the vodka compared to other distilleries, and it gives it a pretty unique flavor.” That, I agree, is easy to notice.

“The product is tied to Durango’s history,” Michael informs me as empty my glass. “Soiled doves being a Victorian term for the prostitutes of the town. They operated into the 1960s in Durango and were fined heavily, with the fines helping to cover the cost of the schools, the police department, and the fire department.”

The McCardells pay homage to these lovely financiers on the back of their bottle. The cocktails served in the tasting room are also related to the town’s history, an effort that has most certainly allowed the curious tourist to feel more accomplished in his imbibing. The distillery looks to release an unaged whiskey this fall, with barreling scheduled to begin this month. The vodka is currently only sold within 150 miles of Durango. “We are being (probably) too cautious about our growth,” Michael says. They do, however, plan to expand further across Colorado. Not bad for a true mom-and-pop and operation.

I like to think that my band is a mom-and-pop operation. I guess it would be a quadruple-pop operation. Like Michael and Amy, we have grown our small company from nothing into nothing less than an amazing life experience, with no real guidance other learned experience. We have made plenty of mistakes over the last eight years but have slowly made progress come from each of them. We’ve dealt with marriages, jobs, mortgages, kids, operational disagreements, and an old van catching on fire on the road, and as life has happened, we have found a way to happen with it. Back in the early days, circa 2007-2010, I put all of my eggs in that basket. I was willing to work crappy kitchen jobs and live in dilapidated apartments so that I would in turn have the flexibility to leave town when I needed to and be able to keep my financial overhead at a bare minimum in order to play music multiple nights a week. I cared about nothing other than making the band succeed. I lost relationships and friends.

The other guys, at least the two I started the group with, did the same. And then, in the fall of 2010, we crashed and burned hard. So hard, in fact, that over the next two years we did next to nothing with the group. We had no money, our leases were up, and we had nowhere left to go. For a while, we went our separate ways. Our biggest lesson, and one of the most important things I have ever gotten out of life, is that you have to have options - you have to have more than one card to play. As we’ve grown up since then, we have found ways to have other priorities in life while still being able to come back and execute with the band when it’s time.

While the band was on ‘unofficial hiatus’, I filled the musical craving in another group, but I was also able to take the experiences I had with the band, mix them with my college degree, and create some kind of shit show career path based on music business and journalism. Five years later I feel I can see it blossoming. To me, the craft lifestyle embodies that same spirit - live life, take what you’ve got, mix in a heavy dose of passion, and throw it to wind. It takes awhile, but when it finally comes full circle, it tastes so damn good.

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rememberyou-rememberme · 5 years ago

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Garden Furniture

Cedar Adirondack Chair In 1903 Thomas Lee was on vacation in Westport, New York, and need some outdoor chairs for his summer home.

His now famous design originally consisted of 11 pieces of wood, cut from one board. He showed to a carpenter friend, Harry Bunnell, who patented the design and made the chairs for next 20 years. This more modern chair is made from naturally weather resistant red cedar and features more of a curved back and contoured seat than the originals did.

Cedar makes a great wood for outdoor furniture and will turn silver over time with exposure to the weather (or optionally I suppose you could use a coat of clear over it to keep its original coloration. The Cedar Adirondack Chair is available from Clean Air Gardening for $169.99.

When I was a child I when most kids went to summer camp me and my sister would go to see my grandparents on their little farm up in Arkansas.

I did go to a summer camp one time and we were the lucky ones, I can assure you. Nights I would sit up and listen to hum of the antique oscillating fan in my room while I read Louis L’Amour novels and the only work I had to do in the morning was go out to the little chicken coop and get to get eggs for breakfast. I would open the door to the coop and once my eyes would adjust to the darkness I could make out which of the little compartments held chickens; and by extension the eggs.

It took a lot of guts for a city kid like me to evict the feathery tenant of each compartment; at my age the birds were about eye level and would peck right at your face. But the pay off was worth it…especially when you got that mystical double yoke egg and could be sure that Grandma would cook that one for you. Last time I was up there, just before we sold off the old family farm, the old chicken coop was no more.

They tell me it just plain fell down in a storm some years ago. I would have hauled it back home no matter what the neighbors said because in addition to the sentimentality I feel for such things in my ever so evident middle age it was just about the right size for a decent garden shed and all those compartments…well I guess I’m not the only one who thinks they could be put to less odorous uses.

Obviously whoever came up with this idea had a similar childhood to me. Available in two sizes each unit gives you rows of individual cubbies to put whatever you might need to stow. Each compartment features an upturned lip to keep the eggs items from sliding out onto the ground. They are made out of naturally weather resistant cedar rather than cheaper wood which would have to be either painted (painting over natural wood grain always makes me sad) or otherwise finished to protect it from the ravages of time. If only my grandmothers coop were made so well. The Small Chicken Coop Cubby measures 27 1/2″ W, 11″ D, 26″ H and the larger one is 34 1/2″ W, 15″ D, 30″ H. From Smith & Hawken

Garden Furniture, Garden Tools Mission Poly-Wood Sofa, Loveseat, Chair, Ottoman, and Coffee Table. To Gustav Stickley furniture was a movement; a philosophy of function over form and a celebration of design and engineering. He produced a periodical called The Craftsman that came filled with plans for everything from furniture to entire houses.

As an insult, his detractors referred to this furniture as mission furniture…implying that his designs were crude and unsophisticated; Stickley preferred the term craftsman, but Mission stuck and it is no longer considered an insult by any means. Craftsman furniture builders built this furniture out of the then-abundant quarter sawn white oak that they fumed with ammonia to naturally darken the wood from the reaction the fumes had with the natural tannins in the wood. They chose quarter sawn wood because of its inherent strength, and they chose white oak because it is strong, durable and resistant to weather. By design the furniture de-emphsized the grain of the wood and drew the eye instead to the strength and practicality. Well, that was then and this is now. Stop by any woodworking shop and you’ll find that quarter sawn white oak, if they even have it, is one of the more expensive hardwoods. There are only so many trees left of sufficient size.

But instead of depleting our dwindling white oak supply these pieces are made from poly-wood. It’s a material that is made from re-cycled plastics and although it can be worked like wood, and used like wood it is resistant to…well…just about everything. You can put this in your house, on your patio, wherever and it will stay pretty much like new forever. The Mission Poly-Wood Sofa, Mission Poly-Wood Love Seat, Mission Poly-Wood Chair, Mission Poly-Wood Coffee Table and the Mission Poly-Wood Ottoman all pay tribute to this great philosophy of practical design and they are available from Clean Air Gardening.

Garden Furniture, Garden Tools . Eucalyptus Outdoor Slat Bench It is a common misconception that simply reducing the amount of wood we use will actually save forests; I know it seems counter intuitive but often the opposite is true. Much of the wood we use for construction, furniture, and paper are grown just for that purpose. The harsh reality of this world is that people who own land intend to make money with it and if you can’t make money growing timber you turn that land into a pasture, or a parking lot. No, the answer is in forest management. The Forest Stewardship Council is a non-profit organization founded in Germany “to promote environmentally appropriate, socially beneficial and economically viable management of the world’s forests”. It’s a complicated process but basically it insures that trees that are cut are replanted and some thought is given as to which trees are cut and when. When you find the FSC logo on a piece of furniture, like this Eucalyptus Slat Bench, you can sleep easy knowing that the wood used came from responsibly managed forests. Many people only think of Eucalyptus as the trees those koala bears crawl around in for Australian air line commercials. But the true is that Eucalyptus is a great wood that is strong and resists rot.

In other words, it is an excellent material for use in outdoor furniture. Also, Eucalyptus trees are used as a natural means of soil conservation and malaria control due to their ability to draw excess water out of the ground. All of which brings us to this excellent Eucalyptus Slat Bench. It measures 49 inches wide, by 20 inches deep and 35 inches high; and of course it carries the FSC approval. It’s available for $279.99 from Clean Air Gardening.

Garden Furniture | Farmhouse Ladder Stand I know what you’re thinking… Why not get an actual ladder from an actual farmhouse. I mean, authenticity is the hip way to go isn’t it? Well trust me on this; I’ve tried to balance even small stuff on real ladders and it’s always ended badly. Plus your average ladder is at least eight foot tall and you have to deal with the whole bad luck aspect. If you have pets and/or children how many times are they going to walk under the thing? No, this is absolutely the one you want. Built out of solid hardwood and five foot tall and with a manageable foot print of two and a half feet square it will fit in anywhere from a big city apartment to a farmhouse in the country. And forget balancing things on narrow little rungs.

You have three nice and wide steel trays; galvanized to resist rust and easily removable so you can keep things clean. My grandma’s farmhouse didn’t have anything this cool. The Farmhouse Ladder Stand is available from Smith & Hawken for $399.00

Garden Furniture |FSC certified Eucalyptus Outdoor Bench This wooden bench is outdoor furniture, but it’s nice enough to use inside too! Made of FSC certified Eucalyptus, so you know it’s forest friendly and made to last. The eucalyptus outdoor bench is available from Clean Air Gardening. $112. Learn more about buying outdoor furniture at the Outdoor Furniture Buyer’s Guide site.

Garden Furniture | Kickin’ It on Dad’s Day in a Hammock Father’s Day is coming up. What better gift to give your old man than the gift of relaxation! Try out this handy hammock with its own stand and set your pa up with a cold one. Then, when he dozes off, you can blast him with the hose! Hahahaha! Just kidding. Anyway, this hammock is ideal for those with limited places to hang one, or for those who like to take a hammock to the lake, beach, park, forest, or for those who like to sneak over to their neighbor’s house when they’re not home and hang out there. It weighs a mere 21 pounds so even the laziest Dad can haul it around. Available from Cabela’s stuff inc.

Garden Furniture |Cool Patio Furniture and Patio Furniture Accessories I was just fantasizing about spending more time outdoors in the backyard this summer and starting looking at some patio furniture on the web. I found a couple cool items to help protect your patio furniture set, plus some very nice wood furniture. For example, this Veranda Patio Table & Chair Set Cover cover your patio furniture to keep it clean and dry when you’re not using it. It has air vents as well so it won’t balloon out on windy days. Your patio furniture will last longer if you protect it! Cost of the cover is about $55.00. Also, here’s a chaise lounge cover with the same design.

It costs about $29.99. Finally, if you’re actually looking for patio furniture, try out this eco-friendly eucalyptus wood furniture/chaise lounge. It comes from sustainably forested wood!

Garden Furniture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle | Cedar Storage Unit for Garden Tools and More If you want a sturdy and attractive place to store garden tools, a hose, etc., try out this excellent cedar garden storage box. It’s made from Western Red Cedar and measures: 20 1/2″H x 35″W x 19″D.

That’s plenty of room to store all kinds of stuff! Another nice feature is that it comes with a 1 Year Manufacturer Warranty from the Cedar Creek company that makes it. It can also double as a bench. It is made with slatted wood so your storage box won’t build up mold or mildew because it breaths. It’s also made in the U.S.A.! Offered by OutdoorDecor.com at a reasonable price ($152.00).

Garden Furniture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle | Durable Outdoor Furniture It’s spring and time to hang out on the patio, sipping a margarita and just chillin’. That means it’s also time to get some new, durable outdoor furniture! Try out this cool chaise lounge made from recycled milk cartons. It’s eco-friendly and weather-resistant. This furniture also holds up very well to mildew, salt water, and pool water.

It’s a great alternative to wooden furniture that may fade and rot if you spend a lot of time at the pool or on the beach. Read the Outdoor Furniture Buyer’s Guide for some great tips for buying and taking care of outdoor furniture.

Garden Furniture | New England Arbors Vinyl Garden Arbors I just spotted a new line of premium “New England Arbors” vinyl garden arbors at the Garden Arbor Store. They’ve added a bunch of awesome new arbors to their collection. For example, the Ashbury model is made of premium vinyl. This makes for perfect assemble because each piece has no imperfection in it. It also means that the arbor will last for many years to come and still look gorgeous. New England Arbors are some of the best available on the market. Some also double as trellises for growing climbing roses, etc.

Garden Furniture, Garden Sculpture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle |Solar LED Kettle II Garden Lantern The Solar LED Kettle II Garden Lantern has a great eco-friendly design. It combines the efficiency of LED technology with solar energy. You can hang these lights or place them on a table or on the ground. Made from steel with a frosted glass lens. A set of two lights costs $41.00 from Outdoordecor.com.

Garden Furniture, Garden Sculpture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle | Windowsill Plant Stand As we move our gardening activities and plants indoors, it’s a good idea to invest in an attractive plant stand to host our green friends. Check out this welded steel plant stand with a watertight copper tray. This plant stand makes a great gift for those who enjoy growing houseplants!

Garden Furniture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle, Greenhouse Gardening, Houseplants | Modern Artisans Garden Art Modern Artisans is a company that specializes in hand made decorative items for the home and garden. They have some very cool things for sale on their on-line store, including these unusual birdfeeders, garden sculpture, address markers and more. This isn’t the mass produced garden décor you find at many stores. Modern Artisans pieces are truly works of art.

Garden Furniture, Gardening Gifts for Women, Gardening Lifestyle, Kids | Alchemy Castings Garden Planters Alchemycastings.com is a great place to shop for custom-made garden planters made from lead like the one pictured above. They also have a number of other cool products for the home and garden, such as garden urns and garden sculptures.

Garden Furniture, Gardening Lifestyle, Houseplants | Garden Furniture My Family Harvest is a great place to look for teak and oak garden and patio furniture. They’ve got a great collection and some nice photos on their site. I really like their collection of teak patio tables. Their site also has tips on taking care of your teak furniture.

Garden Furniture | Arboria Casablanca Garden Arbor Check out this elegant and exotic Arboria Casablanca garden arbor. This is a really unique garden arbor that is made from durable hard wood and non-rusting hardware. Bring a touch of the far east to your garden with this beautiful garden arbor.

Garden Furniture, Gardening Lifestyle |Eco-Friendly Products for the Garden and Home I was doing some research on environmentally friendly companies and products last week and found the Green Home Environmental store. Green Home sells a ton of cool gifts, gadgets, and useful products for a more eco-friendly garden and home, including these low-flow hose attachments, natural and organic pesticides, etc.

Clothes for Gardening, Garden Furniture, Garden Tools, Gardening Lifestyle, Hard to Find Seeds, Kids, Natural Pesticides and Fertilizers, Organic Gardening, Vegetables | Self Watering Planter This is a truly beautiful gift for any gardener! The 16″ Cortina Self-Watering Planter, Bronze will make a friend or relative very happy! Share This Tuesday ~ June 06, 2006 by kswanson56 Posted in Garden Furniture, Garden Tools, Gardening Lifestyle, Houseplants.

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