Plumber

While working for Spike and Mike I stood on a balcony with Homes in LA and I had a thought that made me shiver.

"I can't imagine what I'm gonna do when I'm done with this." I told him. "I can't imagine hitting the streets, filling out a job application, dressing up in some stupid ass work clothes ever again."

In Florida Rob had told me his criteria was he wouldn't work anywhere that required him to fill out an application. This is why Rob worked for himself.

I spent two months on the road with Bryna. It's a story for another time, but by the end of it I'd accidentally bought crack in New Orleans, done my Hitler impersonation for a German tourist named Paul who still somehow became our pal and traveling companion, and I'd managed to screw things up with Bryna so badly that I didn't know if I still had a girlfriend or not (really, I had no idea there was so much alcohol in that punch. It was served to me by her thirteen your old sister for god's sake.)

I'd also lost my bus. It blew up in upstate New York and we took a greyhound to Sacramento. Apparently oil, unlike gasoline, has a specific amount you're supposed to put in. It is possible to put to much. Why the don't just put a smaller oil receptacle that will only hold as much as is appropriate I don't know, but I learned the hard way not to over fill.

I made it down to Riverside to live with my brother Erick and figure out what to do with my mess of a life. Bryna was working at The Lodge in Yosemite.

All of my older Brother's had gone into construction. I figured it was about time I give it a try. Sure, it barely paid more than my unemployment but I couldn't hang around the house being driven insane by my brother's wife any longer, and with my brothers' connections I wouldn't be filling out applications randomly.

Brother John had a friend who could get me hired on as a plumber doing new home construction. I was told there would be a drug test. I was opposed to such things but rather than protest it outright I just made sure to get good and stoned the night before. Erick assured me they'd only test for speed as testing for pot cost too much and wasn't really worth it.

I went to the interview, which went quickly. No I had no experience involving any kind of physical labor whatsoever. Yes I was John's brother.
"You know there's a drug test?"
"I've been informed."
"So you haven't done any drugs?"
"No."
"Not even marijuana."
"No sir. Hey I had a poppy seed muffin this morning with out thinking. Is it true that that can throw the test off?"
"I've never heard that. Are you sure you haven't smoked marijuana?"
"Yes. I'm sure. I'd know."
"Okay, we're going to test for it, so you might as well tell me."
Well shit, if he was going to test for it why the hell was bothering to grill me. Erick was right, they weren't going to test for weed. They'd lose half their workforce. I pissed, passed, and was hired.

Erick took me out shopping and he was disgusted that I insisted on non-leather work boots and a canvas nail bag. I think he worried about my little pansy, liberal ass standing out on the jobsite. I did my best to act macho.

I didn't sleep one wink the night before my first day. I was nervous. I had never done this kind of work, and it felt like it had been ages since I'd done any kind of work. I was entering my brothers' territory and I was sure I didn't belong.

Erick dropped me off at the jobsite at some ungodly hour of morning. I found the plumbing super, Ross and introduced myself.
"So you're John's brother."
"yup."
"Will we be seeing you at church then?"
Ah crap. This guy knew John through church.
"No. I don't go to church."
"You don't? Well, this is your brother's church. He's one of the preachers. You should come by this Sunday. You'd really like it."
"Look, I don't really want to discuss religion. I'm sorry. I'm ready to get to work though."

I was off to a great start. Ross taught my hellbound atheist ass how to nail metal straps to the house frame wherever a hole had been drilled through a beam, to keep the beam strong. I was getting about eight bucks an hour but I would get paid piece work when I got fast enough to make more than the eight bucks an hour. I got started, and I realized, piece work was a ways away. I was slow. I barely knew how to swing a hammer. Ross was patient with me, I'm sure this was a favor to John.

Damn it was hot. And smoggy. And dusty, lonely and boring. I was dying for some conversation. At last I heard the musical horn of the Roach Coach (catering truck) that signified lunch. I'd brought lunch from home as roach coaches were not known for their vegan goodness. But they did have cold cans of Coca-Cola. I sat with the rest of the plumbing crew and they discussed their vasectomies. Getting their dicks taped to their belly by a cute nurse seemed to be the highlite of the experience. For once I had nothing to say. I had two fully functioning testicles as far as I knew, though they'd never really been tested as I was a big fan of condoms, foam, diaphrams, the pill and every other form of non permanent birth control save abstinence.

Lunch ended, and I went back to strapping. It had gotten hotter, smoggier and dustier. I kept working until Erick showed up to give me a ride home. He was as proud as a daddy picking up his kid from the first day of football practice. I told him how much working for a living sucked, and that he was nuts to do it. He beamed.

Erick introduced me to some of the drywall guys, friends of his. Ben was a big burly guy in his fifties. He told Erick and I of his recent divorce. He'd been told he had to choose between his wife and girlfriend. He chose the girlfriend. The reason for his choice: The girlfriend enjoyed anal sex. Lest we think him a pervert he explained, anal sex was his favorite form of birth control. I could've tried to sell him on the vasectomy, telling him that he might get a cute nurse to tape his dick down. I passed as I was anxious to get home and go to sleep.

I wrote Bryna everyday, sometimes twice. I called her when I could. I would build some kind of life for us in Riverside and she'd join me and it would all be great. I don't' know wha the hell I was thinking.

My first Saturday shift came. I brought my lunch and a Coke. There would be no roach coach. I worked a few hours doing straps and then I went for my lunch when I saw the framers and painters at the neighboring tracks going for theirs. I sat by myself in the upper story one of the houses to be. I took a big pull of that Coke. I fell on my side and doubled over in pain. What the hell had I done. The Coke was warm, my stomach was empty and something in the combination caused a painful explosion in my belly that had me writhing on the ground for a good couple of minutes. I got up and went back to work.

The next Wednesday I called in sick. I had to. I just couldn't do it. Working hard, feeling my muscles hurting and promising to eventually harden felt surprisingly good. But this was too drastic an immersion and I was hurting.

When I showed up on Thursday I was told I'd be digging ditches all day. This was my punishment for calling in. Several of the older guys came by to ask me why I was doing "Mexican work."
I answered, "Que? Que?" The either laughed with me or they laughed at me. I didn't give a fuck. I was in hell.

On Friday I got to do some hole boring which at least involved working with another person. Another person who was amazed that I'd gotten this far into my adult life without ever having handled a power tool, but a person none the less. I eyeballed the threading machine that cut and threaded the pipes. Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad.

That weekend Paul from Germany came to visit. He was still doing his American tour. He'd scored a great big car and he'd hooked up with his best pal from the homeland, Marcus.
I was sure that they could stay with me in the apartment my brother had built in his garage. My sister in law wouldn't hear of it. She made several xenophobic comments and then took my three nephews and headed to a cabin in the hills for the weekend.

I told my buddies they couldn't stay with me. I hung out with them at their hotel, tied in a drinking contest with Marcus and then invited them to visit my brother's house. Billy, an asshole neighbor, came over for a beer. Marcus was not as comfortable with English as Paul and would frequently talk with Paul in German when he'd missed something we'd said. Billy laid into him.
"Hey buddy, this is America. Speak fuckin' English."
I laughed, as did Paul.
"I aint jokin' with you little euro-pretty boys."
"Fuck you, Billy. If you don't like it go back to your house and speak all the english you want." I responded.
"Erick, you want these guys talking shit on you in some foreign language, or do you want me to stay."
I looked to Erick waiting for his permission to belt Billy in the mouth. Instead Erick told me Billy was right.
I asked Paul and Marcus to meet me at their hotel. I packed up my bags and I called Sacramento. My friend Sean offered me a place to stay and he was pretty sure he could get me a job making jewelry. I called Friends of The River and they said they'd be happy to have me joing the phone bank again.
My mom helped me rent a car and after calling John to tell him I was quitting the plumbing job I hit the road.

John was not a quitter. John could not walk away from a challenge. He was disappointed that I was so comfortable with the knowledge that physical labor was not for me. He was also disappointed that I'd use his referral to get a job and then split without any notice. I didn't like letting my oldest brother down, but god damn, I just didn't fit. I didn't fit in construction, I didn't fit in Southern California, I wasn't even sure how I fit in this family.

I decided to stop by Yosemite on the way to Sacramento and see Bryna. Paul and Marcus met me at the lodge and we all had a blast. Bryna was definitely on her way back to being securely my girlfriend.

I moved onto Sean's couch and went about finding a day job.

>>>> Go to next story, K Tomatoes, Back in Sacramento (at last) >>>