Dec. 30: Something unexpected that happened at a party to which I had been invited

When I was in my early 20s, I fell into the stupid (and destructive) habit of going to nightclubs and trying to befriend people by doing magic tricks. It rarely worked. I was too stupid to realize that I was just a fleeting novelty, that young drunk people had more important things to do than watch me turn the five of clubs into the Queen of hearts.

One girl, Belinda, asked for my phone number. Belinda was about five years older. She did not want my number so we could date. She wanted it so she could hire me to do a magic show for her daughter's birthday.

Gail lived in a house in the northeast part of the city . She had a roommate named Julie, who was very drunk on this particular night. She told Belinda that maybe the magician could also come to her, Julie's, birthday party the following month.

This I agreed to do.

And so I found myself pulling into the driveway of the house of Julie and Belinda on the evening of Julie's birthday. The driveway was filled with pickup trucks. When I walked into the house, I saw that it was filled with the drivers of those pickup trucks, who were mostly guys in their late 20s/early 30s who worked in the oilfield or in ranching.

Julie appeared. She was wearing black hot pants and a tight yellow blouse with red flowers on it. Her brown hair was crimped, totally 90s. She was delighted to see me and announced that I was the "entertainment for the night."

Wonderful. I thought I was a guest.

I had a deck of cards in my jacket pocket so I started working the room, but it quickly became evident that no one was too interested in watching card tricks. They sipped morosely from beer bottles and all of a sudden I realized that each of them thought they were Julie's suitor and were not at all happy to be sharing a room with "the competition."

I tried asking one of them what he did for a living.

"I rotate fenceposts," he said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "What do you think I mean? I go out into fields, I dig up fenceposts, and I rotate them."

"Why do you have to do that?"

"Because they need to be rotated regularly. If they're not, the fence becomes loose and the cows can knock it over."

"Oh," I said.

I guess he thought I was being sarcastic, even though I wasn't. I thought that fencepost rotator was an important job, that it was one cog in the great farming machine that keeps our grocery stores stocked with dairy and beef products. The guy put his beer down and glared at me.

"What? You think because you do your stupid little card tricks that you're better than me?"

"I don't think that at all."

"You see that truck out there?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a brand new red Dodge Ram pickup.

"Yeah."

"That's my truck. What did you drive here, or did you take the bus?"

I pointed to my car, which was a falling apart 1985 Pontiac T-1000. It had a huge dent in one of the doors and a Frankenstein grill on the front.

The fencepost rotator started to laugh. He called his buddies over so they could all laugh at my crappy car. When Julie wandered by, he pointed the car out to her and said "look what your magician friend drove here tonight."

Julie said that my car was "cute."

Then one of the fencepost rotator's friends came over and asked if he wanted to go outside and smoke a joint. The fencepost rotator went off with his friend and I beckoned Julie over and told her I was going to leave.

Julie's brow furrowed in disappointment. "Oh no, I was hoping you'd do a magic show for us."

"I really don't think these people are in the mood," I said.

Then another beer-drinking pickup driver asked Julie where the bathroom was and Julie took him down the hall so he could use it. Julie did not come back to talk to me. A couple minutes later, I heard her in the kitchen. She was shrieking because someone named Paul had just walked through the back door and was doubly excited because Paul had brought her a bottle of Jack Daniels.  

I left. I walked down to my car, passing the fencepost rotator and his joint smoking friend. "Going home, little man?" the fencepost rotator asked. "Past your bedtime?"

"I have another show to do," I lied. "How about you?"

I thought he'd take it as a challenge but I guess the dope must have mellowed him a bit.

"Just looking to get laid tonight, my man," he said.

"Think you will?"

He just looked at me blankly and said nothing.

"Well, there's always the cows," I said, and before he figure out that I had just socked him with a double entendre, I climbed behind the wheel, turned the ignition, and drove away.