It seems like the only thing I found not to do in Tucson this week was write this column. Every time I thought I had found something really ridiculous, it turned out to be a total letdown in one way or another.
When I get stuck, I ask for suggestions; usually people suggest something like, "Why don't you go get addicted to crack?" The only problem with getting addicted to crack is that you don't have to be in Tucson to do it. I could get addicted to crack anywhere, so what's the fun in that? It's hard to find something not to do that's Tucson-specific.
Since I don't have any one particular painful event to write about, I've prepared a little montage of the things I tried to do this week. Just imagine it as a little slideshow of my life.
First, there was the weekly meeting of the Scrabble Association. I read about it in the Tucson Weekly; it happens every Thursday at the Denny's (2630 E. Valencia Road) by the airport. I figured the type of people who would assemble at a particularly sketchy location to play a board game would have some kind of story for me to tell. I was mistaken.
I was expecting a scuzzy mix of methadone addicts and senior citizens. What I found was a low-rent chess club. Sure, they're all playing a board game, but it's not like playing Mousetrap. Scrabble is actually an intelligent game and it takes a fairly sophisticated mind to play. They were good and there's nothing funny or weird about that. So it didn't work out.
Next, I decided I would go on a vision quest, a spiritual journey of sorts. I've read a lot of Carlos Castaneda, and it sounds pretty easy to do. Of course, there were two problems with this idea from the start: Castaneda was full of shit, and a good vision quest requires peyote, which I don't have. My solution was to just stay up for an entire night and fast all day; maybe something would come to me that way. I stayed up all night drinking and playing Rampage on my old Nintendo (yeah, all 128 levels).
Early the next day, I called up a friend who was interested in going on the quest, too. But you can't tag team on a vision quest! It's got to be a solo adventure. We went out into the Tucson Mountains, we found a cave, we talked about stuff, but at no point did we see anything or feel enlightened. I mean, seriously, what did I expect to happen? Did I think I would see my spirit animal and chase it to the brink of insanity only to return a shell of my former self? Of course that didn't happen. Instead, we just got really hungry and went to Waffle House.
At that point, I was getting kind of desperate. I saw a sign that said "Feeling Stuck?" Below it was some information about a free lecture at Bookman's by Crystal and Summer of the Natural Earth Healing Yoga Inner-Light Kung Fu Pilate Center (or some shit like that). I thought that sounded just weird enough, and if I asked enough obnoxious questions, there might be a story. Not true. Not only was the conception of this story lame, Summer and Crystal never even showed up!
I had one more chance for a story. Someone told me that there was an Indian restaurant on North First Avenue where a bunch of Hare Krishnas get together and dance around and sing and whatnot. I've stayed away from religious events thus far in the column, but this was a last- ditch effort to get any kind of story. There was also, supposedly, a $3 buffet after the Hares finish their thing. The only problem was I couldn't find an Indian restaurant anywhere on First, let alone any dudes dressed up in robes and flowers.
So, after all the time I wasted, I decided to waste just a little bit of yours. Once again, I apologize for not producing a column of the caliber that you should expect from the Wildcat these days. But you know what? It's almost spring break, so just chill out and when you get back, I'll tell you all about my new addiction to crack.