Sin City : The story tellers Paradise
By Royal Hopper
Two men walk into a busy casino past crowds of sweaty anxious gamblers and mutter to themselves .. . . “This is the stupid one . . . . “ as they briefly stop and sit down to watch one of the ball games displayed on the big screen in the vintage casino they walk through.
Several gamblers turn to look at the men thinking perhaps they are the stupid ones and clearly consider jumping on the two men and teaching them some manners until a strolling security officer settles nearby taking a break from his appointed rounds to catch a glimpse of the big screen action. Eventually either bored or hit with the sudden realization they are outnumbered and surrounded by drunken angry gamblers they stand and walk away.
Another gambler stakes a different approach. He tells a complete stranger about the good old days when he was a Hippie..roaming the wilds of Michigan with his then Hippie cousin doing Hippie things.
“Back when I was a Hippie,” says Tim or Mark or Dave ..yeah lets call him Dave. Dave’s eyes widened and he smiled broadly lost in thought recalling the good old days of being a Hippie. I don’t think the details even mattered and as his wife walked up probably an ex Hippie too . . . And he politely excused himself and looking more like Ma and Paw kettle than Grace Slick or Timothy Leary he wandered off to spend some of his retirement money ..lost in the memories of the Summer Of Love and the decade his soul obviously still resides in
There are several ways of telling stories in the City of Sin.
There is a technique in the City of Sin called the drive by insult where an insult is muttered just within earshot and just loud enough that several people can hear and wonder if the hard words were aimed at them. Perhaps relying on the natural tendency of people to care what well dressed strangers think about them. This tells the story of a spoiled aging 14-year old mind and heart in a rich grown man’s body_ a common thing in the City of Sin.
Then there are the life story tellers who will tell strangers intimate stories of their past 20, 30 or 40 years ago. I have always been one fo those people who strangers love to talk to. Strangers on a bus will stop to tell me about the acid trips they took in the 60s and how their children arent mutated as many experts said they would be. I kid you not this happened to me about 35 years ago.
I also seem to be fated to be the target of the drive by peripheral insults. There are certain kids of Sinners that just attract the drama queens and the people who like to tell stories.
Then ther are guys like the scraggily guy who asked me for spare dollars which as it happens I actually didn’t now have. His dress and manner told a story. He hair style wild and crusted with hair spray and grease told a story.“Not today buddy,” I said and he moved on. Which in Sin City lingo means .”I’m a local dude. I am broke and not the mood. I told a story without effort or extra work.
Every day I go to work I radio blasting and that Sin City wall of cynicism fully in place .I hear the words of that old TV cop show echoing in my mind..”There are a million stories in the naked city and this is one of them. . .” I know that somehow some way I am going to hear bits and pieces of dozens of stories before the day or shift is over.
It is not a great mysterious conspiracy no great problem to be solved .It is just one of the stories orf life in the City of Sin.
Take Care Sinners. Its my day off and I am going to chill and relax if it drives me crazy