Friday, October 27, 2006

what happens in tunica stays in tunica

Which is rather easy, as one is still in Mississippi and not privy to the hedonism offered in Nevada. No, I wouldn’t expect a Tunica branch of the CSI franchise anytime soon. In fact, the only sort of nightlife that non-gamblers like Mrs. Camino and myself could’ve experienced was a performance by Kenny G., and that, while certainly being something that one would wish to stay in Tunica for no other reason than the dreadful Kenneth’s act of musical necrophilia upon Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” a few years back, not to mention any other of his pieces of music selected at random, isn’t the sort of titillation that makes for good marketing.

So it was that we bypassed the claustrophobia of the casino buffet and drove fifteen minutes to Tunica proper where we dined in a relatively empty Mexican restaurant along highway 61. We later strolled through the casino for some people watching, but the hordes of half drunk gamblers sitting despondently in the unflattering light of the slot machines and the thick cloud of cheap tobacco smoke proved a bit more depressing than free entertainment should be. So we retired early. Besides, Mrs. Camino had to be up at a decent hour for her presentation.

That night Mrs. Camino dreamed of playing slot machines. She kept winning, but each time she won food instead of money.

I am not blessed with the gift of dream interpretation, but it seemed to me that she had actually been playing the vending machines.

While Mrs. Camino was at her conference I drove around in the drizzle looking at wide cotton fields dotted with pecan trees, pine trees, and the occasional shotgun shack or church. One is still in Mississippi. I then collected Mrs. Camino after her presentation and went to a park along the river where we happened upon the rare site of a live armadillo sniffing and snorting along the roadside for something edible. Bastard wouldn’t hold still.
It sort of looks like a possum dressed up as a samurai warrior for Halloween, does it not? Yes, someone should have named them Mexican Samurai Possums, I think. It would have done wonders for their marketing.


Blogger ceeelcee said...

You know those nasty little possums on the halfshell can give you leprosy, don't you?

They discovered that a few years aho when a Louisiana teenager mysteriously came down with the disease. He said he had been "wrestling" armadillos for practice.

Uh huh...excuse me while I go ask this nice lady on the streetcorner if she wants to go a few rounds.

10:59 AM  
Blogger Rex L. Camino said...

Oh...I thought that was just trash talk. I wasn't gonna let the little bastard psych me out, so I whooped him right then and there.

He fought valiantly and did his species well, but I soon "&^VYGJH>?)LJ:...

Shit. My hand just fell off.

1:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Laughing my butt off over here!

4:35 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I looooooove Tunica -- it's not far from me yet as soon as I cross into MS I feel like I'm a world away -- kinda like going to Hawai'i.

The possum photo actually gagged me, although I posted photos of dead armadillos on my blog recently. It's just that I see them all the time but the poor souls have their feet in the air. I wish I'd find one, just one, still mobile. I even bought a SureFire flashlight so I could mosey around at night looking for one. All I found were possums that I swear have a face only a mother could love.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the hearty laugh you gave me in the middle of the night, while I'm fighting sleep (as usual).

12:37 AM  

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