jamisonmaeda

[jamisonmaeda]

The Writer

Chapter One - The House

The rain stopped as Jamison’s car exited the highway. The sound of the rain was immediately replaced by his sister’s voice through the hands-free phone system. “You should have stayed longer. You missed brunch.” Jamison slowed the car down, signaled and turned down a gravel road. He pulled up in front of a big, white farm house. “I know but it’s a 4 hour drive and I need to start working tomorrow. Oh. I think I’m here. I’ll call you later.” He turned the engine off and got out to look at his new place. The ad said “Country house on 1 acre. 4 bedroom, 3 bath, wood floors, wrap around porch.” It looked like the setting of a Hallmark family movie or the backdrop from a lemonade commercial. A dog trotted out from around the back of the house. “Hi there, puppy. Where did you come from?” The front door opened and a man walked out. Jamison did his usual 2 second evaluation. Cute. Nice smile. Nice body. Nice shirt. No wedding ring. “Hi. Are you Jamison?” Jamison walked up the steps and shook his hand. Nice handshake. “Yes. You must be Mike. Great house. It looks a lot bigger than the pictures.” “It is a big house. Lots of room. Is it just going to be you living here?” Jamison bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Just me. But I’m going to be working here, too.” “What do you do?” Mike leaned agains one of the pillars on the porch and crossed his arms. Nice chest. Jamison sat down on the step next to the dog. “I write mysteries.” He always looks down at his shoes when he answers that question. “That sounds like an interesting career. Are you famous?” “No. Well, a little. In Canada. For some reason my books strongly appeal to Canadian middle school students. Anyway, I have six months to finish two books so this place should be perfect for concentration. Seems quiet.” “It’s very quiet. I live in the house down the road and the next neighbor is over a mile away. Come on in. I’ll show you around and give you your keys.” Mike held the door open and Jamison walked in. “Pete, stay.” The dog laid down on the porch. Nice dog. The next morning Jamison’s alarm went off at 7am. Time for work. He carried his laptop into the dining room. This is where he was going to write. Eight hours a day, 6 days a week. Sundays off. He settled into his new routine quickly and cheerfully. It was a very productive afternoon. At 5 o’clock, Jamison left his laptop on the dinning room table and took a seat on the living room sofa. He looked out the window at the trees. Thirty minutes passed. He stared at the living room walls. New paint. An hour passed. He sighed. Just then Pete the dog walked up the front steps and looked in through the screen door. “Oh thank God.” Jamison jumped off the sofa an opened the door for the dog. “That was going to be a long 6 hours until bedtime. Do you want something to eat?” He led the dog into the kitchen and pulled a box of Wheat Thins out of the cupboard. Several hours later, Pete the dog was sitting at the kitchen table across from Jamison. An empty box of Wheat Thins lay between them. “And everyone says that it’s so much fun, but the day after the wedding reception, all I did was watch Ghostbusters 1, 2, and 3 in my hotel room. I could have done that at home. And that is why I’ll never go back to Las Vegas. Oh, it’s 11 o’clock already. I’d better get to bed. Come back tomorrow. I’ll go to the grocery store at lunch. Do you like Mexican food?” Jamison shut the screen door after the dog and watched him walk down the drive. The next several days also started at 7am. Jamison typed page after page on his faithful laptop with only a quick break to call his sister or a trip to the grocery store. When 5 o’clock rolled around he got up and crossed through the house to the living room. Pete was waiting at the screen door. “Well look who it is. My wacky neighbor from next door. Come on in. I was just about to start cooking dinner.” They walked to the kitchen. Pete took his place at the kitchen table. On Saturday Pete came over just as dinner was ready. Jamison brought two plates of food over to the table. “Tacos. They’re my favorite. Too spicy for dogs though. So, Pedro my friend, you will be having steamed rice with a little honey and ground turkey. It’s better for you than beef. I used to make this for my sister’s dog.” Someone knocked at the door. Jamison peeked around the corner of the kitchen. It was Mike. Jamison looked back at the dog. “Uh oh. We’re caught.” He moved Pete’s plate from the table to the floor. For appearances. “Hey Mike. Come on in.” “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I was looking for Pete. He’s been disappearing all week and I thought he might be over here.” “Yeah he’s in here. He’s been keeping me company. Want some lemonade?” Jamison and Mike carried their glasses outside and sat on the porch steps. Mike talked about his work. He’s a contractor. Mostly renovating older houses. He asked about Jamison’s work. Two mysteries a year then a 4 week book tour of Canadian shopping malls. As the guys were getting to know each other a car turned onto the gravel drive. Jamison recognized it immediately. He quickly turned to Mike. “Run!” said Jamison “What?” “Never mind.” Jamison braced himself for the worst as his sister climbed out of her car. “Hey! You didn’t tell me you’d already made a friend.” “Hi Kim. This is Mike. He owns the house.” “Mike. It’s so nice to meet you. Do you boys feel like having a drink? There’s a case of wine in my back seat. Half a case. It’s a long drive from the city.” “Very nice to meet you, Kim. Thanks but I should be heading home. I just came over to find my dog. Thanks for the lemonade.” Nice manners. Kim put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re leaving? Then you have to come over tomorrow for dinner. Do you have plans?” Jamison knew there was nothing he could do to save Mike. He should have run when he had the chance. He collected the lemonade glasses. “Sure. If it’s not too much trouble.” “Great! How about eight o’clock. Jamison’s an excellent cook. You won’t be disappointed!” Kim sat down next to Jamison on the porch stairs as Mike and Pete walked down the drive and disappeared behind the trees. “Nice shoulders. No wedding ring.” The next night Mike shows up at the screen door with a bottle of wine. “Come on in!” Kim meets him at the door. You look very handsome. Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll get you a glass of wine.” Jamison looks over from the kitchen stove. Mike dressed up. Jamison and Kim notice this at the same time. Nice tie. “Hi Mike.” “He’s cute. Totally your type.” Kim whispers to Jamison. “And he owns two houses! I die! I think he’s the one. I think he is the one you’re destined to marry.” No you don’t. You’re just hoping for a wedding that you can wear your new Stella McCartney sun dress to.” “Why would you say that?” Kim looked shocked. “You tweeted it.” She shrugged. “Well you should at least sleep with him.”

“He’s just my landlord. I don’t even know him. Please do not transport me to junior high right now.” “Do you have condoms?” “Shhhhh! Kim! Oh my god! I’m sure! Anyway, I can’t date anyone right now. I have a 6 month deadline. I have to focus on work.” “Please. You write mysteries for little kids. A girl falls in a well, she finds a diamond ring, the stable boy did it.” “That’s, actually very good.” “Kim grabs two wine glasses and heads into the living room. “So, Mike. Are you seeing anyone?” After dinner Kim says good night and goes upstairs. Jamison and Mike sit on the porch. “Well, I probably should get home. Thank you for having me over for dinner. It was great.” Mike walked down the steps then turned back around. “Hey, if you’re not doing anything on Friday, there’s a drive-in the next town over. Do you want to maybe see a movie or something?” “Definitely. That would be great.” Jamison was pleasantly surprised at how cool and relaxed his response was considering Mike was only the third guy to ask him out. And his previous responses to being asked out were neither cool nor relaxed. They made plans for Friday and Mike walked down the drive toward the road.

Chapter Two - The Date Mike and Jamison sit in Mike’s truck watching the big screen. Pete’s head pokes between them from the back seat. Jamison eats a piece of popcorn. “I’m going to go get a soda.” Mike opens his truck door. “Can I get you anything?”

Jamison smiles. “A soda would be great. Thanks.” As soon as Mike is out of sight Jamison turns to Pete in the backseat. “Oh my god. I am so nervous! I feel like a 16 year old. How do people do this all the time? Here, eat the rest of this popcorn.” Jamison hands the bag to Pete in the back seat. “Do you think he likes me? Seriously. How do I look?” The next evening, Jamison gets up from his laptop and lets Pete in the screen door. He calls his sister. The dog follows him to the sofa. “So what did you guys do?” “We went to a drive-in.” “No! I mean sex! Did you shake your tambourine?!” “He picked me up and he opened the doors for me and everything. He was so polite. Like Jake Ryan at the end of Sixteen Candles.” “And? Did you two release the doves?!” “And then at the end of the night I didn’t know if I should kiss him or wait and see if he kisses me or what. I was so nervous.” “Did you erase the whale?!” “Are you just saying things? Maybe now I should ask him out. Like maybe it’s my turn.” “Is that what the gays do?” “I don’t know.” “Well do you like him?” Jamison passed a Wheat Thin over to the dog on the other side of the sofa. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Three - Five Months Later

Mike pulls his truck up to the curb and shuts off the engine.

“Thanks for driving me to the airport.”

Mike sits in the drivers seat. “Got your tickets?” He holds Jamison’s hand.

“Yes.”

“Would it be weird if I said I’m going to miss you?”

“No.”

“Call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Those kids need a hero, Mike. They need someone to look up to. A roll model. I’m basically the biggest celebrity in the world of young adult literature. I have like 3,000 Facebook friends. All Canadian.”

They get out of the truck. Jamison grabs his suitcase from the back of the truck as Mike walks around to the passenger side.

“Have a good trip.” He kisses Jamison on the forehead.

“I’ll bring you a Leafs jersey. Wow. I’ve never said that to anyone before. Well, see you in four weeks.”

Mike drives away from the airport toward home. “You okay, Pete?” Pete looks at him from the passenger seat. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back before you know it. And we can go to the drive-in, and to the lake, and out by the woods to look for deer. You’re a lucky dog Pete. Very lucky.”

[jamisonmaeda]

Camden Town

Chapter One

Several days a year London is warm and sunny. Today it is raining. Paul walks down Camden High Street. He has no umbrella. He is American. Average height, but more muscular than the English kids he passes.

He looks at the display in a shop window. It’s a row of coat racks filled with hats and coats for sale. Clever. He walks into the shop. Hanging clothes cover the walls. Music greets him first. He recognizes the song. “Creator” by Santigold. It’s on his working out playlist.

The man behind the counter greets him second. “Alright?” He’s called Mel. He’s wearing a black and white, cotton headscarf and a black t-shirt with “Literally.” printed across the chest. He folds a jacket and watches Paul look around the shop. Paul feels the belts. Looks at the buckles. He picks up a hat. Bowler. He looks at Mel and the t-shirts on the wall behind him. Mel is leaning on the counter like a cat looking curious and at the same time uninterested.

Paul’s eyes are drawn to a green t-shirt with a slogan printed across the chest. “I Lie When I Drink.” Another says “Totes Indiff.”

Paul nods his head toward the shirts. “Do people buy these?”

Mel folds another jacket. “Some do.”

“I thought people stopped wearing slogan t-shirts a long time ago.”

“I made these shirts, actually.” The song ends. Seven hundred years pass before the next song comes on. “Tounge Tied” by Grouplove.

“Do you have any that say ‘London?’”

Mel smiles at him. “Not at the moment. Sorry. So, you’re not from London then?”

“No. I’m American.” Paul smiles and scratched the back of his neck.

“Is that so? I thought all Americans wore backpacks.” Mel comes out from behind the counter. The two stand by a shelf of folded headscarves like the one Mel is wearing.

“What are these?” Paul feels the soft cotton and looks at the checkered patterns. Red and black, yellow and black, white and black.

“It’s called a keffiyeh. It’s from Yemen.” Mel unfolds one. It’s white and black. He hands it to Paul.

“Are you from Yemen?”

“I’m from London.” Mel takes the keffiyeh, wraps it loosely around Pauls neck and turns him by the shoulder to a mirror.”

“How much is it?”

“Eleven quid.”

“Eleven, huh?” He would have paid one hundred for it. “That’s a lot.”

“It comes with a lifetime guarantee.” Mel walks back behind the counter and leans against it. Paul follows.

“Will you show me how to tie it around my head like you do?”

“I can. But why don’t you wear it like that first. Break it in a little.” Mel smiles at the American again. Paul picks up a flier from a stack at the counter. Two bands are playing tonight at the Gilgamesh in Camden.

“Nonchalant Cow, and Christmas in Killarny. Crazy names. Are these guys any good?”

“I organized this show. It’s a benefit.” He looks Paul in the eye.

Paul is definitely buying the scarf now. “Oh. Cool. What’s the benefit for?”

“Americans without backpacks.”

Paul laughs. “That sounds amazing. What time does it start?”

“Half ten.”

“I’m Paul.” Paul reaches out his hand. Mel shakes it.

“Pleased to meet you, Paul. I’m Mel.”

Paul hands him a twenty pound note for the keffiyeh. “So, maybe I’ll see you at this show tonight. ” Mel closes the drawer to the register and hands him his change. Just then the shop door opens loudly. Mel’s sister walks in quickly with a large box in her arms and heads to the back of the store.

“Oi, Mel - Grab the other box off the curb before some twat nics it. Now, man! Me hands are full, innit!”

Mel and Paul walk outside. Mel picks up the box. They say goodbye and Paul walks down the high street. It’s still raining. Neither of them notice.

Chapter Two

Mel and his sister sit at a cocktail table in the Gilgamesh. A band is slowly setting up. Mel is wearing dark Levis and a t-shirt of his own creation. “The Great and Powerful Moz” is printed on the front. Kim is animated. She has an expressive face. Particularly at the moment. She’s urgently trying to get her brother caught up on everything that has happened, even though they work together, see each other everyday, and have already exchanged several text messages this evening.

“It’s like she’d known me my whole life, man. It was mental!”

“Is it…Kim, can you really not think of a more creative way to waste your dosh than handing it over to a fortune teller?” Mel looks toward the door again.

“I’m tellin’ you, man. She knew things. You’ve got to go see her. I’ll bloody pay for it. Miss Winfrey, she’s called.”

“Miss wot? Stop it now. Really. Kim. You’re better than this - Oi! There he is!”

Kim looked to the door, squinting. Her fringe partially covering her heavily made-up eyes. “Who’s that?”

“The American. From the shop today.”

“American? Where’s his backpack…” Kim chuckles at her own joke. She takes a sip from her drink.

Mel stands up from his chair to greet Paul. “Alright, mate? You’re a bit early, innit. Paul, this is my sister, Kim.”

Paul shakes Kim’s hand and sits down. “Sorry. I didn’t know what ‘half-ten’ meant. So, I guess the bands haven’t started yet?”

“Not gonna for another hour or more.” Suddenly Mel becomes keenly aware of the situation he has found himself in. Paul is here. In the Gilgamesh. It’s like a date. The three of them are at a small table. God knows what his sister is going to say next. The bands aren’t starting for another hour. This is not good.

“Actually, I’ve not had anything to eat. Fancy grabbing a bite and having a look around London, Paul?” Mel finishes his Guinness and replaces the empty glass on the table.

Kim’s racoon eyes get wide. Her mouth is open. “Wot?! You can’t leave, you’re the organizer!”

“I’ve organized it. It’s organized. Anyway, we won’t be a minute. I’m starving. Text me if something happens, yeah? Alright. Bye!” Mel quickly gets up from his chair and grabbs his coat. Paul follows.

“Malik!” Kim looks astounded.

“Hakima!” Mel puts on his jacket. “Relax, man. I’ll be back in a minute.” Mel and Paul walk out the door and onto the street.

“You’re name’s Malik?”

“Yeah. But everyone calls me ‘Mel.’ Everyone calls Hakima ‘Kim.’ Mel and Kim. ‘We ain’t eva’ gonna be respectable!’ If you were English, you’d have understood that joke.”

“So where are we going?”

Mel zipped up his jacket. “Mate, we are gonna have the best samosas you’ve ever had in your life. You have a Tube ticket? What zones? Here, let me see it.”

The two walked through Camden and caught the Tube. They exited at a part of the city Paul hadn’t seen yet. They chat for a few blocks until they arrive at their destination. A movie theatre. A Bollywood movie theatre to be exact. They order a box of samosas and grab a couple of seats. It’s a Hindi film. Boy meets girl. Boy leaves girl. Boy is sad. Musical number in the rain where Boy lifts Girl up and spins her around. Musical number in the Swiss Alps for some reason. Wedding, credits, and the samosas are delicious!

“Where now?” Paul puts his hands in his front pockets as they walk down Edgware Road.

“Turkish coffee before we head back to Camden? Oh no. Oh, look at this…”

Mel stops walking. He’s staring at something. Just past a car park is a dingy shop with a neon sign. “Psychic Readings/Love/Money/Miss Winfrey.”

“Christ. Well, I suppose we have to now.” Mel fills Paul in on his conversation with Kim as they walk to the door. An electronic bell noise rings as they walk in. A small, older, European woman in a Top Shop jumper greets them and shows them to the consultation room. It is not tastefully appointed. Candles and religious statues share a table with a Tesco lamp and an empty Diet Coke can. There is no crystal ball. Mel doesn’t know how he feels about that. The three of them take their seats.

“I am Miss Winfrey. You have questions? I can tell you your past, your present and your future. Anything you want to know. I am here to help you. Only a £40 donation.”

“40 quid? What can we get for 20?” Mel pulls a 20 pound note from his jacket and lays it on the table.

“How about the past.” Miss Winfrey takes the note and places it in a box beside her. She smiles and studies the two men in front of her. She’s in no hurry.

“I think I already know about the past, innit.” Despite his lack of faith, Mel is happy here. He’s truly enjoying the moment as the other Miss Winfrey always says we should do.

“Do you? You two are new friends? Yes? But no. You’ve met before, haven’t you. A long time ago.”

Good. Mel is pleased. His skepticism is validated. Kim was wrong. Miss Winfrey was wrong. Damn entertaining, but wrong. And it’s about time they do a legger back to the Gilgamesh.

Miss Winfrey folds her hands in front of her. “Two young travelers on holiday. They are both afraid of planes. So, they take a train. To the South. An ancient city. They arrive in this new place and wander around. An old church. An empty fountain. A man is selling newspapers in a language neither of them can understand.”

Mel’s brow wrinkles. He pulls another 20 pound note from his jacket and lays it on the table without looking. He’s intrigued.

Miss Winfrey looks at Paul. Then at Mel. “A winding road. A shop for tourists. They each buy postcards they will never send. It is a Saturday. Rome.”

Silence.

The two men wait to see if she says more. Mel is the first to speak. “I went to Rome.”

“So did I. About four years ago. France and Italy on the Eurorail. Wow.”

Mel shakes his head. He laughs to break the silence. They both laugh. They thank the woman and walk outside. Everyone buys postcards in Rome, don’t they? Was it the same shop? How could they possibly be sure? What just happened exactly?

Mel and Paul are in an empty car park. It’s raining. Paul lifts up Mel in his arms and spins him around. This is the first time they kiss.

[jamisonmaeda]

Baby Driver - Review

Each year, the world moves further away from live television, and chooses the convenience of online and on-demand video. But many of us still augment our Netflix and Hulu lifestyle with going to the cinema. I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or the excitement of group activities, but there’s something magical about going to the cinema. Two tickets, two sodas, and a bucket of fresh, buttery popcorn for just under $75 dollars.

  I love going to the cinema. But I work six or seven days a week, so I rarely get to go more than once a year. The last film I saw was in December of 2016. I saw a Star War. And the time before that, I saw a different Star War in December of 2015.

But a buddy of mine told me about Baby Driver, written and directed by Edgar Wright. And I decided to see it on Saturday.

I woke up early and took the train into the City to catch the 10:50am screening of Baby Driver.

  To me the cinema is like a controlled street festival. Posters and colorful signs everywhere. Every kind of people, some in questionable outfits. And food that you wouldn’t normally eat. The theatre I went to offered Sriracha chicken goujons, fried mozzarella sticks, a fried chicken and waffle sandwich, and of course salted caramel popcorn. Salted caramel is the new avocado here in California. Everyone has to have it with every meal or you might as well be living in Topeka, Kansas. 

Baby Driver is an hour and 53 minutes long. It stars Kevin Spacey, your man Don Draper from Mad Men, and some teenage kid who looks a little like a Jedward but younger.

I arrived 15 minutes early, got a bucket of popcorn, and a large Cherry Vanilla Mr Pibb. (If you’ve never had Mr Pibb, it’s a knock-off of Dr Pepper. If you’ve never had Dr Pepper, it’s similar to the “American Cola” they sell in SPAR.) The film hadn’t started yet as I selected my seat. Third row from the back, one seat from the isle. I sat down and shoveled a handful of buttery popcorn into my mouth and immediately a piece of popcorn lodged itself in between my teeth.

  This was bad – here’s why:

I have a weird thing about stuff between my teeth. It’s so distracting that I genuinely cannot focus on anything else. If something gets stuck in my teeth while I’m driving, I have to pull over. I can’t eat anything but yogurt or broth before a long flight. I’ve never even tried spinach. I keep a container of toothpicks in my kitchen and one at my desk in work at all times. 

The previews began, but all I could think of was the popcorn between my teeth. Why would an establishment known for selling popcorn not provide toothpicks!? I flattened the tip of my straw and tried to pick at the popcorn. It didn’t work. I twisted a piece of my paper napkin into a point. No. Edge of ticket stub? No. Fingernail? Recently trimmed – didn’t work.

After the previews the film started and the first scene was some kind of robbery. Then a car chase. I thought maybe if I drank a bunch of my Cherry Vanilla Mr Pibb that the popcorn between my front teeth would soften and come out on it’s own. No.

A few minutes later, the main character meets a girl in a diner. They have a conversation about music. I was 20-minutes in and I’d decided that since my office is only about 8 blocks away, and I have toothpicks there, it was time to leave. I quietly exited the theatre and turned on my phone to call an Uber. I could take an Uber to my office and get a toothpick in less than 10 minutes. (If you’ve never used the Uber app, it’s similar to Hailo. If you don’t use Hailo, it’s similar to standing on a curb and waving down a taxi.)

In conclusion, if you’re looking for a fun, fast-paced action film with a banging soundtrack, I highly recommend the first 20-minutes of Baby Driver. The cast is absolutely outstanding. I think one of the guys from Walking Dead is in it.

I give it 8 out of ten stars!

Jamison Maeda is a medical research administrator for a large university. He lives part of the year in California and part in Ireland. He loves SPAR American Cola because it tastes like Mr Pibb. He’s been on the Chris & Ciara show on 2FM two times. Dáithí Ó Sé once said he was “gas.” This is his third film review.

[jamisonmaeda]

Dublin Bus

Woke up today at half seven ar maidin Drank a couple cans of beoir, and now I'm motherfckin' ragin' Walked to the loch to see what was rockin' Sat by the water and fed arán to na lachain It was time to peace out so I headed to the bus stop Sat down on the bench agus yer wan looked up She said "Yo, you're a ride, I think I'm in love" She had on a fly geansaí It was bándearg agus dubh I was wearin' mo hata geal agus mo favorite chain wallet. All na cailíní were starin' and so were na buachaillí. I said "Is mise Jamison. Conas atá tú?" We all hopped on Dublin Bus and away we flew. curfa: All my fckin' homies ride Dublin Bus. Sittin' in da back, rappin as Béarlachas We took the 40 from Finglas and headed out to the Liffey Headed back up to Swords on the 41C Got on the 41 and rode to Croke Park Caught the 77a 'cause it was gettin' dark Swooped into a chipper like an ulchabhán Got an order of chips agus cáis agus anlann. We finally arrived at our final destination Bhí sé in am dul abhaile agus end the celebration When we walked out the door you know the driver thanked us 'cause we just spent a hundred euro on Dublin Bus curfa: All my fckin' homies ride Dublin Bus. Sittin' in da back, rappin as Béarlachas

[jamisonmaeda]

The Missing Housemartin

“I can’t believe your cousin got us a gig in Ireland! We’re going to be opening for the Housemartins! Isn’t this awesome?” said Sonia as she and Jamison deboarded the plane and walked across the Dublin Airport to baggage claim. Sonia was dressed all in black. She wore black lace gloves and her black hair covered half of her face.

“It’s so awesome. Now, we just have to find  baggage claim…There it is! ‘Críochfort 2, Bailiú Bagáiste.’ Terminal 2 Baggage Claim.’” Jamison was also dressed in black. His hair covered half of his face.

“You can read that sign?!” Sonia swept the hair from her face with her gloved hand and looked in amazement at Jamison through quite a bit of black eyeliner.

“Of course. I’m a gaelgoir. My great grandmother was from Ireland. She taught all of us kids to speak Gaeilge.” Jamison spotted his luggage on the baggage carousel. It was a black guitar case with a skeleton painted on the front. “There it is!” Jamison opened up the case to check that his guitar wasn’t damaged in transit. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Sonia leaped over the open guitar case to grab her bag. She opened it and pulled out her shiny, metal instrument. “Awesome! It’s okay!” She also breathed a sigh of relief. She held it in her hands and gave it a try. TING! Sonia plays the triangle.

As the two collected their bags and headed for the exit, Jamison saw his cousins standing near the door. He waved. “Hey Rhona! How are ya?”

Rhona looked frantic. “Something terrible has happened.” She grabbed Jamison by his cloak. “Your man, Paul Heaton is missing. No one knows where he is. The band arrived at Buswells Hotel and I went to meet them. They checked in, dropped off their luggage and then everyone wanted to go to County Cork for a couple days. Then they went to Galway. It wasn’t until they arrived in Galway that they realized Paul wasn’t on the tour bus.The Housemartins gig is in a few hours, and no one can find Paul. My career in the music business is ruined! If the Housemartins don’t play tonight, there’s no way I can book Croke Park again for another year because they only allow three concerts per year.

Jamison set down his guitar case and adjusted his cloak. “Can’t you just book them later this year? Maybe they’ll allow…”

“NO - THEY ONLY ALLOW THREE CONCERTS PER YEAR.” Rhona gritted her teeth. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face.

“Let’s get out of here. We can sort this out at Buswells Hotel. By the way, this is Sonia. Sonia these are my cousins Rhona, and Sarah Nell.”

“Hi, Sarah Nell.” Sonia reached out her hand to the little girl. Sarah Nell jumped away, flailing her arms. “Don’t touch me - I’m a real live wire!”

Jamison pushed the girls toward the exit. “Sarah Nell is obsessed with David Byrne. She only speaks in Talking Heads lyrics.” Sarah Nell waved her hands at Jamison. “You’re talkin’ a lot, but you’re not sayin’ anything. When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed. Say something once, why say it again?”

Jamison looked up at the signs hanging from the ceiling. “‘Slí Amach, Bussana.’ Exit, Busses.’ This way eveyone.” Jamison led everyone out of the airport. They headed to Buswells Hotel

The Housemartins’ tour bus was parked close to the hotel. The kids found the driver and asked him to let them on board so they could look for clues. He took them to the bus.

“Here’s your ticket pack your bag: time for jumpin’ overboard. The transportation is here.” said Sarah Nell.

“Sarah, that’s enough” said Jamison as he climbed up the stairs into the bus.

“And you may ask yourself, ‘Am I right? Am I wrong?” mumbled Sarah Nell to herself.

Jamison and Sonia slowly and methodically looked around the inside of the bus. They opened drawers and lifted up cushions.

“C’mere!” shouted Rhona. “The show is in a few hours, Jamison. We don’t have much time!”

“Look where my hand was! Time isn’t holding up. Time is an asterisk. Same as it ever was” said Sarah Nell as she waved her arms around wildly.

Sonia looked over at Jamison. “Where was her hand?”

“Just…it’s…nevermind…wait! Look!” Jamison pulled out a camera case. It held a polaroid instant camera and a stack of polaroid photos. “Here are some photos of the Housemartins in Ireland. This must be from their road trip!”

The kids sat down around the bus’s breakfast nook and spread out the photos on the table.

The photos showed the Housemartins standing next to road signs. As they traveled from county to county on their road trip, they stopped and had a photo taken of all of them next to the welcome sign.

“This sign says ‘Fáilte go Co. Partláirge’” said Rhona to the other kids.

“What does that mean” asked Sonia as she lifted up her hair to look at the photo.

Jamison took the photo from Rhona. “It means ‘Welcome to County Waterford. The sign in this one says ‘Fáilte go Co. Chill Chainnigh.’ Kilkenny. And this one says ‘Fáilte go Co. Loch Garman.’ Wexford. Wait, here’s one that says ‘Fáilte go Co. Chorcaí.’ Cork. But Paul’s not in this one. They must have lost him before they got to Cork! Rhona, where would they have stopped right before Cork?”

“Waterford. We have to go to Waterford.” They gave the driver instructions and the four kids took their seats. Sara waved her arms in the air as the bus pulled onto the road and headed for County Waterford.“Letting the days go by. Let the water hold me down. Letting the days go by. Water flowing underground.”

“Is she going to do that the whole trip?” Sonia asked Jamison.

“I know. It’s…I know.” Jamison got up from his seat and looked through the shelves of the bus for something to eat. He found a dozen Bounty Bars, several bags of King Crisps, and a bag of Tayto. He passed the King Crisps and Bounty Bars to the girls.

Several hours later the bus arrived in Waterford. They passed the welcome sign, but no Paul. They drove past the River Mahon and the fairy bush. They went on past the fairy tree and the fairy rock, toward Mahon Falls. The driver stopped the bus and the kids got out to look around. Cliffs. Sheep. The falls. Rhona noticed a fairy ring, and carefully walked around it. Jamison and Sonia were about to turn around and walk back to the bus when Sarah Nell noticed a small cow shed. “This is not my beautiful house.” She pulled on the door, and as the light entered the shed, they kids could see a person. It was Paul Heaton, the missing Housemartin! “This is not my beautiful wife!” shouted Sarah Nell.

Rhona ran over to him. “Paul what happened? Where have you been? We’ve got to get back to Dublin for the gig!”

“The boys and I were walking around taking photos of the falls, and then I saw a little lamb. I walked over to pet it, and I heard the bus take off without me! I’ve been out here in the countryside by myself this whole time. I’m starving. Is there any food on the bus?”

“There’s a packet of Tayto” suggested Jamison.

“I’ll just wait ‘till we get to Dublin” Paul said as they all climbed onto the bus and headed for Dublin.

That evening the bus arrived at Croke Park. The crowd was lively and excited. Rhona grabbed Paul’s sleeve and they started running toward the staduim. Paul turned and shouted over his shoulder “Jamison! Sorry, Mate, no time for an opening band.”

Jamison and Sonia watched Paul and Rhona running further away from them. Disappointment sunk in their stomachs like an anchor.

“So you’ll have to play with us! Grab your instruments and let’s go!”

The kids looked at each other in disbelief. Without hesitation, Jamison grabbed his guitar case and ran. Sonia grabbed her triangle and followed. Stagehands ran with them through the corridors and up the stairs. They were back stage. They were on stage. They were on stage with the Housemartins. The music started. Sonia started playing her triangle. TING! TING!

Paul began to sing. His vocals shot through the stadium like a burst of light. “Me and the farmer get on fine. Through stormy weather and bottles of wine. If I pull my weight he’ll treat me well. But if I’m late he’ll give me hell.” Paul looked over his shoulder to where Jamison was playing guitar. “I’m so hungry.”

“And thought it’s all hard work no play, farmer is a happy crook. But Jesus hates him everyday ‘cause Jesus gave and farmer took…”

[jamisonmaeda]

Frisco to Finglas

Unlike the well-known stereotype about Americans, I’m actually good at geography. I’ve also extensively studied foreign languages and cultures. I like to think that I easily blend in at a traditional Vietnamese wedding, a street party in Havana, or a Sunday church service in Soweto. The truth is I do not. But I continue to learn as much as I can about other cultures and their histories. It’s my passion. That’s why, when I was invited to visit some friends in Ireland, I immediately started preparing. I learned the words to Amhrán na bhFiann. I read the first seventy-five pages of Ulysses. I listened to Damien Dempsey’s song “Dublin Town” over and over. My plan was to experience Ireland as an Irish person would, and to absorb everything. And it worked. Kind of. More or less…

  My trip began on June 4th. Describing my excitement is impossible except to say that I arrived at the San Francisco airport five hours before my flight. When the plane arrived at the gate and the passengers began to deboard, I spotted a face that I recognized immediately. Enda Kenny. I turned to the the Americans standing next to me at the gate and said “Is that the Taoiseach??” They looked at me blankly. This was my first victory.

  My first experience with Irish cuisine was the sheperd’s pie served by the Aer Lingus cabin crew. I don’t usually eat beef but I wanted the traditional Irish experience. It was delicious. I turned to the Irish woman sitting next to me and said “I was surprised to see the Taoiseach. I didn’t even know he was supposed to be in the States.” She said “Either did I or I would have brought something to throw.” Brutal honestly. This is a classic Irish trait. I loved it.

  I arrived in Baile Átha Cliath. (That’s Irish for Dublin.)  My friend Elaine collected me from the airport. We stopped at the Lidl grocery store in Swords and I bought a bag of Tayto crisps. This was my second experience with Irish food and they were also delicious. That evening we went to the Cock Tavern. I had a pint of Guinness. It was delicious. We had dinner at The Mint Leaf in Swords. I got my photo taken at Swords Castle.  We went to another pub called the Pound. Several drinks later we ended up back at Elaine’s house. I sent a tweet to Dáithí Ó Sé. Then I decided to tweet Aer Lingus to tell them that I had a wonderful flight, but was disappointed that their in-flight entertainment didn’t include my favorite radio show, “Chris & Ciara” on RTE 2. All they had was Nicky Byrne. (No thank you…) Ciara tweeted back “Enjoy your holiday!” She’s so great. I’ve been a huge fan of Chris and Ciara’s show for a long time. I listen to it at work from 2pm to 5pm California time. Except for the week they filled in for Tubridy and I had to set my alarm for 1am to hear them.  I tweeted Chris that I was excited to finally hear the show from Ireland like all their Irish listeners. He replied that unfortunately he’d just had his wisdom teeth out and wouldn’t be on the air. Irony.

  Early the next morning, I took Dublin Bus from Swords to Dublin. If you take the 41C, it lets you off by the Spire, the General Post Office, and the Burger King on O’Connell Street. I crossed the River Liffey and headed for Sràid Cill Dara. (That’s Irish for Kildare Street.) That’s where I was to meet my friend Rhona. She works for Clare Daly TD in the Dáil. I write for Deputy Daly’s website and was looking forward to spending some time with her and her team. I got to see Deputy Daly debate the Tanaiste in the Dáil. Irish people are known for speaking their minds. Not so much this person though. Her answers to Deputy Daly’s questions were so muddled even the Ceann Comhairle had a “WTF” expression on his face. After the debate I went out to buy some Lucozade. It was a hot day in Dublin, so I was walking around without a jacket on. No map, no guidebook, no backpack. Jake from Deputy Daly’s office said I didn’t look like a tourist at all. I looked like a Dublin office worker. That was the nicest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me. I love that guy.

During my stay, I had a couple pints in the Dáil pub, and lunch with Rhona and our friend Liz in the Dáil cafeteria. Delicious.

  After work, a few of us went to a pub called McGratten’s. Now, believe me when I tell you that I’m not very good with directions. And I frequently get lost even in the US. But for some reason, you can blindfold me, spin me around 20 times, let me off in an alley anywhere in Dublin, and I can find McGratten’s. It has a mystical, magnetic pull on me, so we spent quite a bit of time there. I now have a local pub in Dublin. Jake and I did Baby Guinness shots there. They were delicious.

  That weekend Rhona and I took a road trip to Killkenny. We stayed with her friends in a centuries old farmhouse in the countryside. We stayed up until 5am talking about Irish politics and history. Great craic. The next day we all drove to Mahon Falls. We bought strawberries from a road side stand. We saw Killkenny Castle. I had fish and chips at Kyteler’s Inn. We saw sheep. I was immersed in Irish life and I loved it. 

  Rhona and I drove through Wexford, Waterford, Carlow and Wicklow before returning to her house in Finglas. (That’s where Spiral’s from.) We spent the rest of the week around Dublin, and here’s what I learned: King crisps are better than Tayto. Fish and chips at Super Mac’s are better than any American fast food. And Bounty Bars are better than all of these. The music scene in Dublin is incredible. We saw Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott at The Academy. Then we saw a stellar DJ at the Grand Social. We had a cab driver who knew everything there is to know about ’80s music. If you’re into music, you have to visit Dublin.

  We took another trip to Howth with Rhona’s sister, Sarah Estelle. We had dinner by the Irish Sea. We hiked up a hill and looked across the water at the lights of Baile Átha Cliath. It was a full moon. It was beautiful.

  On my last day in Dublin, Deputy Daly and Mick Wallace TD took us out to lunch. I ordered the gnocchi. (Delicious.) That evening, Rhona, Sarah Estelle and I met up with our friends at Gravedigger’s in Finglas. We sat in the grass, under the stars, drinking beer and eating King crisps. Definitely one of the top three best nights I’ve ever had.

  But before I knew it, my fortnight in Ireland was over. Rhona drove me to the airport. I was heartbroken because I’d finally found a place where I felt like I  belonged, and a group of people who made sense to me. Everything was beautiful, and interesting and fun. But I had to go back. I went through customs and sat down at my gate under a giant photo of Mick Wallace. My plane arrived and I boarded. I gloomily watched movies as we flew passed Iceland and Greenland. I watched The Guard starring Don Cheadle and Brendan Gleeson. I watched Great Irish Journeys - Michael Dwyer.

Finally I arrived back in San Francisco. I turned on my phone to check my messages. I got a text from Rhona, and received two Twitter notifications. “RTE2 follows you,” and “Your tweet was favorited by Dáithí Ó Sé.”

[jamisonmaeda]

Dáithí Ó Sé is the most Irish man in Ireland

From the beginning of Ireland’s rich history to the present, there has never been a man more Irish than Dáithí Ó Sé. 

Dáithí Ó Sé is the most Irish man in Ireland. This is quite a claim, I know. But I believe after reviewing the evidence, everyone will agree.

Dáithí, a Kerryman, was born in an Fheothanach, just a stone’s throw from Mount Brandon. He is a Gaeilgeoir and completed a Bachelor of Arts in Irish and History in Limerick. (That is so Irish.)

After graduating, Dáithí was a ferry driver around Na Blascaodaí, but later became well known as the continuity announcer and weather presenter with TG4. He did Feilte, Glór Tíre, Dáithí ar Route 66, and of course you’ll remember when he was on Celebrities Go Wild – Connemara. (Totes Irish.)

Not only did Dáithí host The Rose of Tralee, he actually married Rose of Tralee, Rita Talty. And to the joy of people around the world, earlier this year, Dáithí and Rita had their first child, Micheal Og. On St. Patrick’s Day no less. (Classic Dáithí.)

This man couldn’t be more Irish if he read Ulysses cover to cover, which as far as I know, no one has ever done. But make your own decision. Ni lia duine na tuairim.

These days you can find Dáithí on “Today” from RTÉ Cork. He is also occasionally mentioned on the Bottom of the Barrel radio show with Chris Greene and Ciara King on RTÉ 2.

(Ciara’s dad owns a curragh, which is also quite Irish.)

[jamisonmaeda]

The Haunted Wedding

Sonia ran her finger over the blood red caligraphy on the front of the envelope. She turned it over, reached inside and pulled out the invitation as their car came to a stop in front of the house.

“I’m so excited that your cousin, Katie wanted our band to perform at her wedding!” She looked at the photo of the bride-to-be on the front of the invitation. “Wow. Was this picture taken on Halloween?”

“No.” Jamison turned off the engine, got out of his car and began to unload their equipment when suddenly his Aunt Jade McGlintsie burst out of the house and ran to him. “Thank goodness you’re here! Something is terribly wrong!” Aunt Jade was on the verge of tears as she grabbed Jamison’s crushed velvet cloak and pulled him into the house. Sonia got out of the car, adjusted her crushed velvet cloak and followed them in.

They sat down in the living room. Jamison’s Aunt Jade was frantically tugging at her hair. Here eyes were wide and crazy. “It started late last night. Loud noises, books were thrown off the shelves, drawers were dumped out. It’s a ghost! A ghost is tearing the house apart. It’s terrible!”

“No! It’s great!” Jamison’s cousin Katie ran into the living room. She was dressed all in black with a long, flowing cape fluttering behind her. Her hair was dyed black and cut short except for the front which covered one side of her face. Jamison’s hair was cut the exact same way. So was Sonia’s.

“A ghost! A real poltergeist at my wedding! This is the best thing that’s ever happened. This is definitely going to be the best wedding that’s ever taken place in Sarasota!” Katie’s sister, Holly looked down at her lap and adjusted the ruffles on her stone washed denim skirt.

“Come outside. The guests are starting to arrive and there’s someone I want you two to meet!” Katie grabbed Jamison and Sonia by their arms and pulled them out to the back.

Once outside, Sonia screamed and jumped onto Jamison’s back. “A giant spider!” Katie bent down and patted it on the head. “That’s my dog, Louie. I made him a tarantula costume. He’s my ring bearer. And I got all the centerpieces from Mexico. They’re candy skulls for The Day of the Dead. And look! Five hundred black roses. I made my friend stand in the laundry room last night for seven hours painting them black and wrapping them in paper so they wouldn’t bloom until today. Quick- Over here!

Katie dragged Jamison and Sonia over to meet one of the guests. “Allow me to introduce you to world famous horror film star, Adrienne Barbeau!”

Jamison and Sonia gasped in unison. “Miss Barbeau” squealed Jamison “It’s such an honor to meet you!”

Sonia stepped in front of Jamison. “Miss Barbeau, what did you like most about the movie “The Fog?”

“Um, definitely all of that fog, and…” Adrienne Barbeau tugged awkwardly at her skirt.

“Interesting.” Sonia nodded. “And what about your husband, famous writer John Carpenter? Which of his "Halloween” movies did you like best?“

"Oh uh, the third one. That was my favorite. Will you kids excuse me for a moment?”

Sonia and Jamison watched her walk into the house. “How weird. How very weird” said Sonia. “John Carpenter didn’t write the third Halloween movie. As his wife, she should know that.” The two stood in silence pondering what had just happened. They quietly followed her into the house and found her in the study, looking behind each of the framed paintings on the wall.

“Wait a minute! There was never a ghost! That’s an imposter!” Jamison shouted. Hearing Jamison shout, Rick, Katie’s brother ran into the study and tackled Adrienne Barbeau. He picked her up and body slammed her. He pulled one of her legs up in a wrestling move and pinned her. Just then, the elastic band on the back of her plastic mask snapped. The mask fell to the floor exposing the face of an old man.

“That’s not Adrienne Barbeau!” yelled Sonia from the doorway.

“It’s Piccalo! Our former gardener wearing an Adrienne Barbeau mask!” exclaimed Rick. Aunt Jade and Holly entered the study followed by Katie’s father, Dill.

“He was looking for this” said Dill as he pushed a button under his desk. A panel opened on the wall revealing a safe. Dill pulled a key from a chain around his neck and opened the safe. “The McGlintsie family jewels.”

“Wow!” Sonia’s jaw dropped as she looked at contents of the safe. Diamond rings, emerald broaches, ruby necklaces, and the three jewel encrusted tiaras. One gold, one white gold and one platinum. “Who would need three tiaras? ” asked Sonia. Holly folded her hands in front of her and looked down at her shoes.

Just then the sound of cheers and applause drifted in through the window.

“Oh! The wedding’s over!” yelled Rick.

“That means we’re on.” said Jamison as he and Sonia ran out of the house and over to the stage.

“Katie’s throwing the bouquet! Should I try to catch it?” asked Sonia as they ran across the yard toward their instruments.

“No, don’t.” Responded Jamison “It’s snakes.

They jumped onto the stage and picked up their instruments. The McGlintsie family, including Louie in his tarantula costume ran to the front of the stage as the first song started. Dill McGlintsie swung his arms from side to side, then over his head. Rick pogo-ed up and down wildly. The guest jumped up from their chairs. Sonia’s voice rolled across the lawn like Florida thunder.

"Reeking like a pigsty Peeling back and gagging free Flaccid ego in your hand Chokes on dry tears, can you understand? She’s jeering at the shadows Sneering behind a smile Lunge and thrust to pout and pucker Into the face of the beguiled Peek-a-boo Peek-a-boo!”

[jamisonmaeda]

Butt Sex and the Bible Belt

I’m always amazed when I hear people, usually Republicans and Evangelical Christians, criticizing gay men because of sodomy. This is absurd. As anyone with internet access can tell you, straight people also have anal sex. In fact, some straight people are very passionate about anal sex. It’s their favorite thing! I have no idea why people are obsessed with what gay men do in the bedroom. I’m certainly not outraged by what Evangelical Christians are up to. I assume it’s a few minutes of poking around once a year after Wheel of Fortune, but I’m certainly not bothered about it. To put all the responsibility for anal sex on gay men is unfair. It’s unfair to gay men and it’s unfair to straight women who, for centuries have had to listen to “please, please, please, just one time, just to see how it feels.” And then they give in, but only because it’s his birthday… What about them? Now, blow jobs? That’s a different story. I’ve given blow jobs to at least two dozen guys. Most of them straight. I used to give out blow jobs like they were handshakes. “Nice to meet you. Here’s a blow job." Maybe right-wing Evangelicals should launch a global campaign to end blow jobs. Do you think that would get a lot of support? Neither do I. If you want to criticize gay men for something, criticize them for wearing too much cologne, or liking Adele. Or even better, criticize gay men for something only gay men do. Which is impossible, because if you really think about it, gay people are just people. Just like everybody else. If you don’t like anal sex, don’t have it. Hey, It’s not my idea of a dream date either. I’d much rather have a big plate of nachos and watch 80s movies. But to constantly carry on about anal sex is ridiculous. It is in no way “doing God’s work.” It has nothing to do with “family values.” It’s insanity, and it makes you look, no pun intended, like an asshole.

[jamisonmaeda]

Nebraska

Several years ago when I was going to college in Nebraska, the sheriff's department from some small town called me. They wanted to ask me some questions about an airplane that had been stolen. The cops knew who stole it, and they were going to prosecute him. But they needed my help because the guy's entire defense was that I did it. He knew my name, my age, my address, what kind of car I drove, and he was adamant that I was the one who stole this plane. Like I can fly a plane. I can barely drive a car. And more times that not, I get in the elevator at work and push the wrong button or forget to push a button at all. And it wasn't even a normal plane. It was an antique Red Baron plane from like 1930 where your head sticks out and you have to wear goggles. Yeah. I'm sure I can fly that. While they were investigating the case, the cops checked out my background. They went to my grandmother's house and my aunt's house. They talked to my former employers. And they wanted me to take the stand at the trial and testify that I did not know the guy who was accusing me of stealing the airplane and that I didn't steal it or know how to fly a plane. It was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. It ended up that he confessed so there was no trial. But I never found out how he knew me. The cops said there might have been someone else in the plane with him that knew me and wanted me to take the heat. They said it was probably someone who was jealous of me. (Great. That could be anybody.) Or someone who was willing to let me take the blame for something they did. (Oh. A family member...) So for the last several years, I've been very suspicious of everyone. Always trying to figure out who tried to set me up. And everytime I watch Prison Break on Fox, I think "That could have been me."

[jamisonmaeda]

The Hunan Lady

Saturday morning cartoons were coming to an end and the cereal bowls were empty. Sonia and Jamison were in her parents' living room, staring at the TV. Sonia had very short hair, except for in the front where it covered half of her face. She unzipped her sleeping bag and turned to Jamison in the sleeping bag next to her. Jamison slept over almost ever weekend. "Dude, if Richie Rich is so rich, why have we never hear about him in the newspaper or magazines. Like have you ever seen a building that said "Rich Industries?" Jamison's hair was also long in the front and covered half of his face. He brushed it away from his eye and turned to Sonia. "Well, I think he was from the 1950s. So he's probably really old now. Rich Industries is probably gone at this point." Cartoons were over and the one o'clock news began. "The Coast Guard rescued multi-millionaire, Geoffrey Gould and the crew of his 50ft yacht, The Hunan Lady after an apparent hijacking. Mr. Gould and his crew were forced into a dinghy and found almost 24 hours later 20 miles off the coast. The yacht and the hijackers have still not been found." Sonia pointed at the television and laughed. "That guy looks like a pirate!" Jamison looked at the video of the yacht crew being helped out of the dinghy. "The one with the eye patch and the mustache?" "No, the one with the Members Only jacket and the bird on his shoulder. Who would walk around with a bird on their shoulder?" "He does look like a pirate." Jamison moved the hair away from his eye. There was something peculiar about this crewman. Or maybe it was just the bird that made him seem weird. They turned off the television and began rolling up their sleeping bags. "What time do you have to work? Can you pick me up on the way?" Sonia and Jamison had an after school job at El Burrito Vegetariano. "Sure. I'll pick you up at 4:30" Jamison replied as he picked up his sleeping bag and walked out to his '79 Chevy Malibu. It was lime green with fire hydrant sized dents in the side. Parallel parking is difficult when one eye is hidden under a wall of hair. Later that afternoon, Sonia and Jamison were at work, making burritos for teenage artists and musicians. Sonia was drawing skulls on the counter with salsa. Jamison was making rings out of foil. "Sonia, did you dye your hair black?" "Yeah, today before work." "But wasn't it already black?" "Yeah, so now when it grows out, I won't have any roots." "Ah. Sensible." Just then the bell on the door jingled, announcing a customer. Jamison looked up and suddenly froze. His one visible eye got wide. He slowly reached his arm out to Sonia. "Dude! Look! It's the guy from TV!" Sonia looked at the man. He was tall and thin and had a bird perched on his shoulder. "I have an order to pick up. Thirty burritos. And I'm in a hurry." Jamison handed the man a box of burritos, took the money and watched him walk out the door. "Sonia, something's not right. Why would he order thirty burritos? And do you know what kind of bird that is? It's a Cuban trogan. They're only found in Cuba. Cuba!" "You're right. I'm going to follow him." Sonia grabbed her black, crushed velvet cloak and ran out the door. Half an hour later the phone at El Burrito Vegetariano rang. It was Sonia. "I followed him to the marina! He loaded the burritos onto a fishing boat, but there's no one else aboard. How weird. How very weird." "I'm on my way." Jamison grabbed his cloak and headed for the marina. A few minutes later, Jamison arrived at the marina and found Sonia. The man with the bird was casting off the lines of his fishing boat and preparing to take off. "We can't just let him go. We're going to have to get on that boat." Sonia and Jamison were in agreement. They snuck over to the boat, careful not to be seen and jumped on. One at a time, they climbed into an empty crate. "We'll wait until the boat stops and sneak out to see where we are. Then we'll know what this guy is up to and who all the burritos are for." Jamison nodded his head in agreement. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a pen, and a book. "My guess is we're headed to Cuba. Maybe it has something to do with that yacht, The Hunan Lady. In the meantime, we can do Madlibs! I'll start. Give me an adjective, a noun, a verb and another adjective." The kids settled in for their voyage. Two hours later the boat started to slow down. "The car hair horse ran yesterday to the here store. See...these never work." Jamison flipped the page to start another. "Wait! The boat is stopping." They peered out of a crack in the crate. Jamison was right. They'd arrived on the north coast of Cuba. The man with the bird steered the fishing boat toward the shore and into a cave. He pulled in to dock. Then he threw his lines to some men waiting along the side. He killed the engine, grabbed the burritos and climbed onto the dock. When no one was looking, Sonia and Jamison climbed onto the dock and hid behind some crates. "Look at all this stuff? Along the sides of the cave were stacks of VCRs, crates of crystal chandeliers, and mahogany panels. In the back of the cave, a group of men crated up a mauve sofa-sectional. "And look!" Jamison pointed to the other side of the cave at a partially dismantled ship. "It's the Hunan Lady! They must be taking it apart so they can sell it's parts. The man with the bird wasn't hijacked, he's one of the hijackers!" Sonia grabbed Jamison's arm and pulled him back to the fishing boat. "We've got to get back home." "So we can tell the cops about the Hunan Lady and the man with the bird!" Jamison untied the lines and quietly followed Sonia to the wheel house. Sonia started the engine. "And also, we have Depeche Mode tickets!" The hijackers ran toward the fishing boat but they were too late. Sonia and Jamison were already out of the cave. They made it half way back to Florida when they were met by the US Coast Guard who took them home, just in time to change clothes and drive to the concert. Sonia and Jamison were up near the front of the stage telling their story to Mindy Marp, a girl from their school. Sonia was dressed in black and dark eyeliner outlined her visible eye. "The bird on his shoulder is only found in Cuba." Jamison, also wearing dark eyeliner leaned over to Mindy. "See, the man made it look like hijackers attacked the yacht, but he organized the whole thing so he could strip it and sell off the parts for millions." Just then the crowd started to yell as Dave Gahan, Andy Fletcher and Martin Gore entered the stage. Sonia and Jamison screamed. Their heads bobbed in unison and their hair swished back and forth to the first song. "They were raining from the sky Exploding in my heart Is this a love in disguise Or just a form of modern art From the skies you can almost hear their cry Tora! Tora! Tora! In the town they were going down Tora! Tora! Tora!"

[jamisonmaeda]

The Great Bank Robbery

My very first Short Story for Young Adults: English class had just begun. Two high school seniors, dressed in black sit next to each other in the back row. The girl, Sonia, passes a note to her friend Jamison. Her black hair is severe. Cut short in the back, long in the front, covering the right side of her face down to her chin. Jamison’s hair is cut exactly the same. Jamison takes the note from her and unfolds it. "I like your outfit! Very drapey. Where did you get that Morrissey concert tee? I’m so totally glad it’s Friday. What are you doing this weekend?" Jamison writes a reply and discreetly passes it back to Sonia. "Oh my god! Thanks! I got this Morrissey concert tee at Homer’s Records. I like your Siouxsie and the Banshees concert tee." At the front of the room, their teacher was passing out writing assignments. "You and your partner will complete a research paper on a local, historical event. Mike and Kelly-your topic is the Great Poor People Riot of 1967. Sonia and Jamison-your topic is the robbery of First City Bank in 1938. Papers are due Monday." "Oh great." Sonia said as she rolled her eyes. "I wanted to go to a Sokol Hall tonight. And now we have to write a paper on some old timey, silent movie bank robbery." "Yeah..." Muttered Jamison. "My favorite band, The Acorns is playing at Sokol Hall. I wanted to get some fliers and add them to the Acorns tribute collage on my wall." The two kids glumly doodled pictures of witches and flaming devils in their Trapper Keepers for the duration of class. After school they got in Sonia’s Chevy Cavalier and drove to the library to research the bank robbery. "Oh my god! I love this song!" Sonia turned up the volume. Dee-Lite flooded the car and poured out the windows and they turned off of the main street and into the parking lot of the library. Jamison’s hair flew from side to side and his hands zig zagged speedily around the passenger seat. Half an hour later, the two sat at a library table, surrounded by dusty books. "I took some notes from the microfiche downstairs. The Fist City Bank was robbed by a local man. Fifty-four year old Dragomir Kasakovich. He ran into the bank with a gun and a sack with a dollar sign on the front and demanded the tellers put everything into it. He left the bank with $40,000. Police assumed he would head for the South Downtown Bridge and cross state lines. They searched all cars attempting to cross the bridge but didn’t find him. Criminal experts theorized he must have swam across the river and escaped with the money. "I have a feeling the reason they didn’t find him at the river is because he didn’t go to the river." Jamison said from behind a wall of hair, his one visible eye squinting in deep thought." "But that’s the only way out of town. He would have had to cross the river to get out of the state." Sonia said as she played with her ankh pendant, her one visible eye also squinting in thought. "I think I may know where he went. Look at this photo of him from the newspaper." Jamison said as he pointed to the photo. His fingers weighted down by a dozen rings. "His face is covered in coal dust... He was a miner!" "The West Ponka-talahoochie Mine!" Sonia yelled. "Do you know what this means?!" "If we can find the lost money, we can get an A on our paper, raising our English Comp grades to C’s for the semester!" Jamison squealed. "After work, we’re going to the mine!" Sonia and Jamison worked at El Burrito Vegetariano downtown. Sonia was excellent at math, so she ran the register while Jamison rolled Burritos for the hip, vegetarian teens that hung out there. The burrito shop also had live music in the evenings. Mostly local bands, like the Acorns and Sonia and Jamison’s band, Raggedy Anne Suicide. They finished their shift and jumped into Sonia’s car heading for the West Ponka-talahoochie mine. After walking for more than 15 minutes, Jamison found the boarded up entrance of the old, abandoned coal mine. They pulled a loose board off the doorway and crawled into the pitch black tunnel. "I can’t see a thing." Sonia whispered. "Here are some lanterns! But they’re out of lantern oil..." Jamison held the two lanterns to his eye. "Wait! I have a great idea!" Sonia exclaimed and she dug through her purse. She pulled out several large bottles of make-up. "We can use my make-up as lantern oil!" They filled the lanterns and lit them with the devil lighter Jamison bought at Homer’s Records. The two kids walked further into the mine. "What if we get lost?" Sonia asked. The two looked at each other for several minutes, heads leaning to one side to move the hair out of their eyes. "I know-" Jamison said, finally breaking the silence. "We can use my rings to leave a trail back to the door! Just like Hansel and Yentle from that one book!" "I think you mean Han Solo and Yentle." Sonia said, vaguely remembering the book from her girlhood. Jamison took off a ring every several yards and carefully placed it on the mine floor as they wound through the labyrinth of tunnels. After several minutes, Jamison bent down to lay another ring on the ground, but saw something sparkling in the lantern light. "What’s this? It’s a 1938 penny. How weird. How very weird. The mine was closed way before 1938." Sonia’s face lit up in a moment of sagely comprehension. "I bet the bank robber took a roll of shiny, new pennies from his money sack and left a trail so he could find his way out of the mine after he hid the money. He must have read Han Solo and Yentle too!" They held the lanterns close to the floor until they found another penny. Then another. Then another. "Look!" Sonia grabbed at Jamison’s long, flowing jacket sleeve. "A skull!" "Oh my god! That would look so cool on my dresser. I could put a candle on it, and it could melt a little bit, down the sides of the skull." "That would look really cool!" Sonia nodded. "I know. I saw it on a tattoo once." "Who had a skull and candle tattoo?" "That one guy named Pete that Jen used to like." Jamison answered, holding his lantern in one hand and resting his other on his hip. "Ew. He would have a skull and candle tattoo. What ever happened to him?" "I don’t know. I heard he was taking art classes at the community college. I think you get a scholarship if you have a tattoo." Jamison laughed. Sonia started laughing too, which made Jamison laugh even harder. The two where paralyzed with laughter until something caught Sonia’s eye. "Oooo! Look!" The held their lanterns up and just visible in the corner was a burlap sack with a faded dollar sign on the front. "It’s the money! We found the money! We solved the mystery of the bank robbery of 1938!" Just then, the floor where Sonia was standing started to crack and crumble. In a split second she started to fall through the hole. "Quick! Grab my hair!" Jamison yelled to her. He swung his head around really fast. She grabbed a hold of the hair that usually covered the right side of his face and held on. He strained to move backward, away from the hole, dragging Sonia with him. She got back on her feel and brushed the dust from her pants and shoes. Just then Jamison gasped. "Oh no, Sonia! We’re supposed to perform tonight!" "It’s almost nine o’clock! We’ve got to get back to the burrito shop. Follow the trail of pennies and rings!" Sonia yelled back to Jamison. "Pick up the rings though, okay? Because I need those." The two ran through the tunnels, out the mine door and back to the car. "I didn’t bring anything to wear and we don’t have time to stop at my house!" Jamison was panicking in the passenger seat. "The outfit you’re wearing is fine. Look in my back seat. I think there’s a thrift store vest and maybe a cape and some necklaces back there." Sonia said as she sped into the El Burrito Vegetariano parking lot. They jumped out of the car and ran into the back door of the restaurant. Just then, Mohawk their keyboard player started the drum machine. The crowd of kids in the burrito shop started cheering. Black concert tees and hair swayed in unison. Mindy Marp, a girl from their school, was dancing in the front row. Jamison picked up his base guitar and started to strum. Sonia’s deep, baritone voice filled the burrito shop like rolling thunder. "White on white, translucent black capes back on the rack. Bella Lugosi’s dead. The bats have left the belltower. The victims have been bled. Red velvet lines the black box. Bella Lugosi’s dead."

[jamisonmaeda]

Vodka at the End of the World

Chapter 1 Jessey is walking down the street talking to his girlfriend on his phone. They’re making dinner plans. He smiles. He hears something that sounds like thunder. The ground starts to shake which stops him in his tracks. On the other line, his girlfriend panics. Jessey tells her that he’s coming to get her, but there’s no phone signal. Just as suddenly as the first earthquake, the rumbling returns. This time louder. Windows are shattering and people are screaming. Jessey starts running but can’t get through the panicked crowd. Within minutes, the ground starts shaking for a third time. “This isn’t working” Jessey says out loud. He turns around and runs down the sidewalk back downtown toward his brother’s bar. He walks over rubble and through the open door of the bar. No customers, just Jameson and Abdul, sitting at the bar, wearing their usual uniforms, Ted Baker London shirts coordinated with matching tie and vest. They are drinking vodka tonics. “Jessey!” Jameson smiles when he sees his brother. “Hey, Jessey, what’s good?” says Abdul. “What are you doing?!? The City’s falling down because of giant earthquakes!” Abdul and Jameson look at him blankly and then look at each other. “You didn’t feel the earthquakes? No? Seriously? Your ceiling is coming down!” He points angrily to part of the bar’s ceiling that had broken off and is hanging halfway to the floor. His face is red and the veins in his neck are visible.. Jameson casually turns to Abdul with a look of curiosity. “Did you know the ceiling did that?” Abdul turns away from his vodka tonic. “I saw it. I thought you saw it. I thought you already knew about it so I didn’t say anything.” “We have to get out of here now! Now! Before the building falls down. THERE WAS A MASSIVE EARTHQUAKE! Jesus you two…” Jessey’s voice gets louder. Jameson and Abdul get up, still holding their drinks and start to walk toward Jessey. Jameson calls over his shoulder to a customer who Jessey had not noticed until now. “Joey, don’t let anybody in and can you turn off the…” “No-Joey-you have to go-there’s been an earthquake-Jesus! Are you kidding? Are you people kidding me right now?” Jessey yells, his face is much redder now and the veins in his neck are visible from space. “Joey, lock the door please and go home. And be careful. Because of the earthquakes.” Jameson adds. He looks at Jessey to show that he was listening earlier. They walk out of the bar. “Where does Joey live?” Jameson asks Abdul. “Until you said that just now, I assumed he lived in the bar.” They follow Jessey, careful not to get earthquake dust on their clothes. The three of them walk into the street. The sidewalks are filled with rubble and no cars are moving. They plan to walk to Jessey’s girlfriend’s apartment but the front window of a store suddenly shatters. More than a dozen looters climb through the hole in the glass in a matter of seconds. Gun shots ring out. Then more gunshots. “This is crazy. We gotta get out of here. Let’s try to get over to your apartment and maybe we can watch the news or something to see what’s going on.” Jessey says as he looks back to his brother and Abdul “And why do you still have drinks?!” he yells. Jameson and Abdul freeze and look at Jessey like two kids, caught doing something wrong. They’re holding their cocktail glasses with two hands, straws to their lips. They put their arms down to their sides. “So bossy…” whispers Jameson “Mm-mm.” Abdul agrees as he shakes his head. “I don’t care for that.” They turn a corner and head for the apartment. Chapter 2 The streets looked bombed out. People are running. Even more people are smashing windows and breaking down doors. Some police in riot gear are yelling for the looters to come out but there are clearly too few of them. More gunshots. The group duck into an alley. Just then, a police officer sprints toward them, an angry mob chasing him. “Over here!” Yells Jessey. “Hey! Over Here!” The police officer turns and runs toward the alley. They all run down a flight of stairs. Jessey kicks in the door of an abandoned basement restaurant’s kitchen. “Is everybody okay?” Jessey asks as they crouch behind a steel table. Jessey watches the door. Abdul smiles and extends his arm to shake the policeman’s hand.“Hi, I’m Abdul. Oh-your shirt is ripped.” The policeman struggles to catch his breath. “Mmmm Hmmm. I’ve seen this movie before…” Jameson looks at Abdul and rolls his eyes. He takes a sip of his vodka tonic. Jessey looks at Jameson’s drink and a look of disbelief crosses his face. He shakes his head. The police officer finally speaks. “I lost my radio-and my weapon-give me your phone-” “Phones are down. Do you have a car?” asks Jessey. “It’s on fire.” Jameson turns to look at the cop. “You lost your gun, your radio, and your car?” “And his shirt is ripped” adds Abdul adds. He points to the rip across the officer’s chest. Jessey starts to get up. “We’re going to North Beach. We need to get away from Downtown. This place is a nightmare. We can try to get a hold of someone from there.” “Okay-” agrees the cop, still catching his breath. “We can go through Chinatown-” “Oh no. No-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no. Chinatown was a mess even before this.” Abdul shakes his head. He’s adament on this point. “I know.” agreed Jameson. “It’s like walking through a mental hospital on arts and crafts day.” “We’ll go back toward the water and then up to North beach.“ Abdul says to the troop. He finishes the last of his drink, puts his glass down and signals for them to follow him back out the cellar door. An hour later they arrive in North Beach. The air is smokey. Several buildings are on fire. There is a fire engine in the middle of the street but it’s been abandoned. Their apartment building is badly damaged but still standing. The front door is blocked by a van that has crashed into the building. They go up the back stairs. Outside gun shots still ring out. People yell unintelligible commands. Glass breaks. Jessey locks the front door and flips the light switch. “Power’s out. Do you have any candles?” Jameson and Abdul look at Jessey as if he’d asked if they had oxygen or gravity. Within moments, the apartment is flooded in golden candle light from a dozen shelves and wall sconces. It smells like jasmine. And lavender. And grapefruit. And sandalwood. Jameson pulls the velvet curtains so they can’t be seen from outside. The cop moves the curtain a little and looks out the window. “We need to stay put. It’s too dangerous to go out again until the riot police get this under control.” Jessey looks at the cop. He’s right. He looks at Jameson and Abdul. They’re holding fresh drinks, garnished with slices of lime. Jessey thinks of his girlfriend on the other side of town. Her name is Carrie. She works for Gap, but she’s not a bitch. “Phones still don’t work.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed. He looks at his brother. “Jameson. Do you have any food in here? Besides limes?” Jameson and Jessey glance over at the sofa. Abdul and the cop are sitting quietly. Abdul is facing the cop. The cop turns his head to Abdul. “What?” “Yeah. We have tons of food. I can make a cheese plate, a fruit plate, some hummus…” They glanced back at the sofa and the cop is now shirtless. They look back at each other. “If you’d like, I can…” Jessey and Jameson hear Abdul’s bedroom door shut. The sofa is empty. “Okay. Well, anyway. I know you’re worried about Carrie. She’s fine. I promise. She’s smart. And it’s probably safe on that side of town. We’ll get some sleep and when the sun comes up, the power will be back on, and the phones, and we’ll go get her.” Don’t worry, Little Brother. I’m never wrong.” Jameson is frequently wrong. Jessey tries not to think about that and looks for something to drink. His choices are probably tonic water or cranberry juice. Jessey is listening to the looters outside when an explosion shakes the apartment. Jessey jumps off of the sofa. Jameson is sitting at the kitchen island in a clean shirt and matching tie and vest, drinking a vodka tonic. The policeman runs out of Abdul’s room in his uniform pants and a too tight t-shirt that says Fun Girl across the chest. Abdul follows in a clean shirt and matching tie and vest. “I gotta see what’s going on out there. See if I can find a phone or another cop or anything.” The cop says, as he tries to pull his t-shirt down to cover his navel.. “I’ll come with you” says Jessey. He grabs his jacket. He looks at the cop and hands it to him. “You two stay here. Hey, Listen. Listen! If there’s another earthquake and you have to leave the building, we can meet up at the Costco in Potrero Hill. That’s between here and Carrie’s place.” “Okay.” Jameson said as he took a seat next to Abdul on the sofa. He pours the last of a bottle of vodka into his glass and some into Abdul’s. Jessey and the cop close the door. Jameson and Abdul take sips of their drinks, still staring at the closed front door for a moment. “What is a Costco?” Abdul asked. “I have no idea.” Jameson adjusts his vest, recrosses his legs and takes another sip of his drink. Chapter 3 Within only minutes, Jessey and the cop are pounding at the front door. Jameson opens the door and the two burst in, out of breath. “It’s worse than we thought. People are coming into the City from all sides to loot and rob. They’re shooting at the police helicopters. I’ve never seen anything like this. Anywhere.” Jessey’s eyes were wide. “It’s like normal people have turned into crazy, looting zombies.” Abdul and Jameson are only partially listening to Jessey, but they turn to look at each other ”ZOMBIES??” They exclaim in unison. The cop starts to speak “We need to get out of San Francisco, but I’m sure the bridges are barricaded. And if people on the street are being robbed, there are probably pirates, too, robbing the people in boats trying to escape.” Jameson and Abdul looked at each other again “PIRATES??” “I’m not leaving until we get Carrie.” Jessey looks at his brother. He looks genuinely scared for the first time since the beginning of the event. “Of course we’re not, Jessey. We’ll figure it out. Sit down-Listen-she’s going to be okay. Abdul and I are going to go with you, and we’re all going to be fine. Hey-Fun Girl!” Jameson yells over his shoulder to the cop in the kitchen. He’s eating cheese from the cheese plate as Abdul rubbs his shoulders. “Grab some sheets from the closet. You said there are police helicopters? If you make a sign and put it on the roof, maybe they’ll come and get you.” “I’ll come with you.” Jessey heads for the linen closet to find some sheets. “Abdul we need to find out what’s going on. There’s got to be a radio somewhere in here.” “Here it is!” Abdul runs out of the study with a CD Player/radio shaped like a female robot. “Look…It’s from Urban Outfitters. It’s a girl-bot.”

Jessey and the cop run up the stairs to the roof. Jameson and Abdul sit on the sofa putting batteries into the robot radio. Abdul’s face lights up. “This is just like the characters from Lost, trying to escape from the island.” “You know, I do not remember that show.” Jameson say as he stirs his drink. “I remember watching it, but, no. Nothing. Was there a black girl?” Chapter 4 Jameson sits alone at the bar. He takes a drink of his vodka tonic and looks up at the news on the television. The anchor person has weird hair. And too much make-up. The anchor person is speaking in front of an image of what used to be the Marina. “After 8 major earthquakes followed by 6 nights of looting, San Francisco starts to pick up the pieces. Thanks to the help of neighboring police departments, over 1700 people were arrested. Most of the people arrested were not San Francisco residents.” Jessey walks in. His hand is bandaged. “Slow day?” He sits at the empty bar. Jameson looks over and smiles at his brother. “We’ll be busy in a little while. The construction guys have been coming in every night after work. Looks like they’re going to be around for a while, too. It’s a dream come true for Abdul. We haven’t had this many workmen in and out of our apartment since we had the floors redone. Who knows, maybe even Joey will meet someone. ISN’T THAT RIGHT JOEY.” Jessey notices Joey at his usual table. The lone customer in the bar. His entire head is bandaged. Even his ears. Jessey laughs. “Is the power back up in Carrie’s neighborhood?” Jameson asks. He reaches for the crutch leaning against the bar and gets up to get Jessey a plastic cup of lemonade. There are very few glass drinking glasses left in San Francisco. “No. She’s staying with me for a while. Is your power back on?” “No but we have running water. And we have plenty of candles. Pottery Barn actually asked to borrow some from us.” “Why don’t you and Abdul close the bar for a while and take a vacation. You need a break after all of this.” “Because we’re San Francisco people. We belong here. Especially right now when people need help.” “I understand.” Jameson gets up again and pulls a bag of groceries from the cooler behind the bar. “I have some groceries for you and Carrie. I traded a case of White Zinfandel for them. I don’t know what he’s going to do with a case of White Zinfandel in a crisis. There won’t be Midwestern tourists in the City for a while. I also had to trade some booze for 50 cases of Red Bull. The construction guys love it. I think it’s awful, but, god bless ‘em. Their putting the City back together. I’m happy to do what I can for them. Abdul obviously feels the same way…” “Thanks.” Jessey smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work.” “I’ll be here.” As Jessey walks out the door and turns down the sidewalk, a ceiling tile falls from the damaged ceiling and lands on Jameson’s head causing him to spill a little of his drink down the front of his vest. He looks down at his vest. “I can not believe this week I’m having.”