Pink Tony Lamas

I'd just about given up on Country music less than thirty years old.  Relegated my red neck listening time to tunes I grew up to, danced the Cotton Eye Joe to, hopped and kicked up my heels to back in the day of hanging in honky tonks  with big butted women.  And then while poaching tunes from my kid's computer I discovered Trace Adkins.  Suddenly I was transported back to  Dallas, Texas 1977..................

Byron turns to the big one wearing the white cowboy hat and pink Tony Lamas.  She's got a Lone Star longneck in each hand.  He tips back his Gus model  Fine Palm Double S Cowboy hat with the horse hair band and looks her up and then down.  With her boots on she has to be a half foot taller than Byron.

"Darlin, you got an ass on you like a Forty dollar steer."



I grin stupid cuz we been there holding that bar up awhile and I know Byron's half way to shit faced when he pulls out that line.  Full on shit faced if he actually uses it.  Pink Darlin looks at me, smiles at Byron and sets her beers down on the bar.  She grabs the two of us and we all stagger out to the dance floor.

Next morning I open the one eye not stuck shut.  Laying twix and between  us two scrawny truck drivers was our big butted  Pink Darlin still wearing her Pink Tony Lamas but nothing else.   I sit up and gaze across our motel room.  On the table designed for maximum wobble Days Inn calls a desk, a bottle of Jack lays tipped over in a pool of it's previous contents.  The precious brown liquid drips down onto  the indifferent carpet adding one more stain on top of a thousand other stains.  I double check myself and yeah,  I'm naked.  Struggling to my feet,  I lean in hard so I can stagger around the bed. Byron is laying on his stomach with his head hanging off the edge of the mattress..  Under his dangling open lips, a healthy deposit of drool adds another stain to the collection of stains on that indifferent carpet.  Pink Darlin is on her back, mouth open and the most god awful racket is coming out of her mouth.  I figure a woman with lungs that big is bound to make some noise, so I move on.  Byron looks like a child laid out next to her.

Mingling stenches of hooch, sweaty sex and dirty bong water make my stomach gurgle. It performs a small flip, immediately followed by a bigger flip telling me I better hit the head and make it quick.  Vague memories of giant Tex Mex burritos wolfed down between the bar and the motel cause me to grab the trash can with the plastic liner on my way to the can.

Focusing on the agonizing pleasure of purging the sin I relished and wallowed in a few hours ago, I don't  notice the shower running.  I'm busy.  When the water turns off and the curtain opens I pull my head out of the trash can.   Then I remember.  I wipe my chin and I grin.  It's Lazy Eye Sue, Pink Darlin's bony sidekick.  Her one eye is focused somewhere over my head and to the left.  The one that counts has a twinkle in it when it looks at me.

"Looks like you could use a shower Yank."  Lazy Eye Sue turns the water back on and I jump in.

~*~

Yeah, not much real shit kickin music after 1983.  Course I was married by then.  I had to give up Honky Tonkin and carousin to music that goes best with copious amounts of beer..........and big butted women..

Trace Adkins- his original "Hony Tonk Badonkadonk"



Trace and Souja Boy - a remix bound to irritate the red neck in everyone.  I kinda like it.


_____________________________________________

This embellished memory is but brief taste of that two day binge.  It would be another 36 hours before any of us calmed down.  Layovers like this were common experiences for SHOWCO drivers while they waited for another Rock n Roll tour to go out.  I was twenty five and single.  Every waking moment not driving I spent looking for a good time.

Pink Darlin was a mid level manager at Mary Kay Cosmetics and drove a company Cadillac.  It was Pink.  I never once saw her without something pink on her person - maybe some earrings, a pin, those damn pink boots.  Pink was part of her life day in, day out.  Her and Lazy Eye Sue became our good friends.  After that weekend,  I didn't have to stay at  Days Inn when I was back in Dallas.

Keep it 'tween the ditches................................................