That left more than enough time for the truck drivers to find trouble if they were so inclined. The old saying "Idle Hands..." was never truer than during those couple of days before the San Diego show. The Devil got busy when we hit San Diego.
Usually tour schedules did not allow as much free time as the drivers enjoyed during the 1977 Zep tour. With an extra driver assigned to each truck combined with longer drive time allowances, the tour became a vacation compared to any other tour I had been on. Higher hotel bar charges resulted as bad ideas and troublemaking plans began forming in earnest. The tour from start to finish had seen madness unfold, some of it self inflicted, most it seemed at the behest of the "what can go wrong gods". San Diego was following the rhythm track laid down back in the beginning of the tour.
After that first night of non moving sleep, I was full of piss and vinegar the next morning and ready for some downtime with no trucks, no roadies, no drivers; just me, myself and I. As the day played itself out, I was glad I had detoured down that fork in the road I had in mind.
By mid morning I was half in the bag from drinking 3 or 4 Bloody Mary's with breakfast. Our first stop after was Tattoo Alley. Some of us wanted to get tattoos. Others were just along for support. I had planned to support, but I left the parlor sporting a 3 inch caterpillar Huffing on a Hookah.
That was alright. I had succeeded in satisfying one of my early kid bucket wishes. I had lusted after tattoos since seeing the tats on the crusty old non-coms at the several Air Force Bases where I spent my early years. When they rolled up their sleeves, the tattoos let you know these were real men, manly men. I was determined to own at least one. It was Pirates and Veins in my teeth stuff Dude. Who wouldn't want a tattoo?
We began our aimless shuffling after leaving the tattoo parlor looking for that next adventure. Someone suggested renting motor scooters at a rental place down the street. I remember thinking this might not turn out well as I was halfway to shitfaced at that point. It was early afternoon, and having an accident on a scooter did not seem like a fun way to finish what was turning out to be a wonderful day. I opted out, called a cab and bailed as catcalls of , "You're a pussy, You have no balls" followed me into the cab..
"So, are you with the Zeppelin Tour?"
I would like to think my response was as cool as I felt in my SHOWCO Zep shirt and aviator sunglasses, but I probably mumbled something like:
"Uh, yeah. ....I drive a truck on the tour..... Why?"
One of the girls said:
"Well cowboy, we want to take you out."
Just like that, I found myself with a joint in my mouth and I was seated between the two of them in a beat up mid 1960s Chevy pickup with Kansas plates. On an 8-track player behind the seat, Zep's first album rocked us out as we headed north on Interstate 5 a ways before splitting off onto Hwy 101 south to head back towards Mission Bay and the hotel.
The women did all the talking. Denise was driving. Her side kick butt dancing at shotgun was named Ellie. They were from Topeka and they had time to kill. They figured they'd try to stay ahead of the West Coast leg of the tour. I was their first victim.
The rest of my day became a fantasy unforeseen. I never imagined a day like this would ever actually land in my existence. I was with good looking women my age who wanted to have a good time. I hoped I was up to it.
"Will this cover it?"
He smiled, took the five and handed her a bag with a dozen Avocados in it; then tried to give her some change.
"Keep it", and we sped off.
When we were back in the Mission Bay area, Denise pulled into a drive through liquor store.
"So, what goes with Avocados anyway."
Ellie spoke right up.
"Fish tacos and Tequila". She pointed across the highway to a food truck sporting a huge sign that informed all motorists this was the spot to find fish tacos.
I spoke up. "Never had fish tacos. They any good?"
Ellie said, "I haven't a clue. We're from Topeka ferchrisakes. Let's try them out."
Denise ordered a bottle of Cuervo Gold tequila. We crossed the highway and parked near the food truck. With our tacos, tequila and avocados, we set ourselves up on a picnic table nearby.
I don't know about most fish tacos, but the ones we set our teeth into that evening were awesome. The sauce they used on their tacos set off a gastronomical pleasure party in my mouth. I could tell the girls were in heaven also. I opened the bag of avocados, pulled out my pocket knife and opened one up.
A conversation began between myself and the women about whether Avocados tasted better than they looked up close and personal. It took some convincing, but Denise finally took a small piece from me and reluctantly put it in her mouth. Immediately her hand came back wiggling her fingers. She wanted more.
"Damn cowboy, these are great....... How come you know avocados but not fish tacos."
"My mom. Wherever we moved when I was a kid, she found a way to get avocados."
I think we were at "Dog Beach", a beach set up for the pooches to run, cavort, and be the loose dogs they were meant to be. There were certainly a lot people out with their mutts while we watched and consumed our fish tacos, avocados and shots of Cuervo Gold Tequila.
By the time we
had eaten the tacos and half of the avocados, the shots of tequila began to
have their way with us. The sun was setting. I wanted to lay down; I was
suddenly struck with a case of the whirlies. Too much alcohol, too much pot and
on top of a full stomach, well, I was going to be in trouble if I didn’t lay
down. So I did under the lone palm near the picnic table.
Denise and Ellie followed me over fussing about my condition. Did I feel okay? Was I going to puke or something? One of them left us for a moment and came back with two huge blankets. They spread the blankets out and both of them plopped their butts down all the while trying to entice me into joining them. Laying in the sand had to be uncomfortable they reckoned. For my part, I was feeling no pain. All I could think of was I needed to hold it together.
It took a few moments, but I recovered enough to join the girls on the blankets The sun was still peeking over the horizon. Ellie handed me a shot and we all toasted being in San Diego and being young and numb. There were no cares considered that night. We were gloriously drunk and stoned. Life was never better. We sat on those blankets and eventually passed out, sleeping the night away only to be awakened by the beach raking guy the next morning.
The girls dropped me at the hotel. I told them they could pick up back stage passes later. They waved and Denise hollered, "We got your room number now. We'll be back later."
MEANWHILE
While I was sitting at a concrete picnic table with two good looking women, tossing back shots of tequila and watching the Sun disappear into the Pacific Ocean, the scooter crew were being corralled by the cops and hauled off to jail. They had cut a swath of minor damages and close calls throughout downtown San Diego, the area around Broadway in particular.
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