DIRTY ROTTEN ABILENE

The whole company is extra perky as we gather around the bus in the beautiful morning sunshine. We have been spoiled by having two nights in our very deluxe Dallas Sheraton suites and we drag our heels when faced with moving on.

The drive to Abilene is simple and uneventful but for our lunch stop. We pull in to a Shell station in a place that truly deserves to be called Sparrow Fart, Texas. Inside the station there is a Subway sandwich place as well as a local grille that serves up meatloaf, cream gravy, mashed potatoes and the like. As we are getting out of the bus, out attention is taken by.....yes.....it is......it's a life sized cross. And it's being loaded out of the back of a pick-up truck by a tall, thin man. And, yes, he is actually hefting it onto his shoulder and making his way toward the Shell station. Could this be the second coming, right here in Sparrow Fart? Perhaps not. We're quite sure that the bible stories didn't mention Jebus smoking and our cross-toter lights up a Marlborough. Also, this cross, big as it is, has wheels on the bottom to assist in all that pesky dragging. Personally, I am a bit miffed that he parks his cross directly in front of the picnic tables, effectively cutting off access to all three of them. I am forced to go sit in the wagon-wheel chairs. Someone talks to Jebus to find out that he has apparently been across the U.S. five times with his cross. Steve gets permission from Jebus to drag his cross around the parking lot. (Photo attached) As we pull away, he has, miraculously, disappeared. I dub him Heeby-Jebus.

We have a great show in Abilene. Huge crowd who are all having a great time. They not only leap to their feet but many of them are waving their arms in the air during the curtain call. They're very effusive here in Texas.

In the morning, I join the girls gathered around the bus as we prepare to leave Abilene and discover that, as usual, I have caused more of a stir than I know. It seems that the girls found themselves in the position of "enlightening" one or two of the wardrobe/hair people assigned to them last night. At first it was just simple things like, "Do ya'll have the same kind of music as us up there in Canada. Have you heard of Kelly Clarkson?". But then, one of them wonders aloud if Michael, who is basically in charge of them while the show is in the theatre, might be gay? The girls are amused by this and aren't really taking it seriously. They suggest that it's certainly possible. One of the dressers asks, "How do you tell? They look just like everyone else." At this point, the girls realize that they're not in Kansas anymore. One of our girls, interested in whacking the hive, says, "In fact, Michael's husband is in the show." Shock and consternation abound. "They're married??? Like, legally married???? What state????" The girls offer the not-so-gentle reminder that we are from CANADA. Knowing none of this, I enter the room at the end of the night, looking for Michael. Now, when one enters a ladies dressing room it is customary to knock and say "It's a boy", since the girls are often naked. If you want to just knock and barge in, and you are the correct gender, you might say, "It's a girl". Or, you can do what I do, a combination of the two preceded with the announcement, "Homosexual!". Which, of course, is what I did last night. I barged into the room, planted a big kiss on Michael and told him I'd see him at the next stop.

Had I known what kind of a stir I was causing, I'd have asked him to model the new bubble-gum pink Dolce & Gabbana briefs I just bought him. It's quite possible that there is a prayer meeting for our immortal souls somewhere in Abilene right now. What they don't know is that we met Jebus that very day.

The first part of our endless drive to North Carolina lands us in Monroe, LA for a stop-over. The lounge at the hotel is an unlikely combination of camouflage-hatted good ole' boys and blaring gansta' rap music. I retreat to my room.