The Tour

Word Count: 4882


         I’m gonna be a saint! Did I tell you that? Yeah, it’s been revealed to me ever since I got out of the hospital. I’ll admit – I took to my darker side in the last few years: I’ve indulged in porn, gotten trashed, ad I feel like I was just a fat, fucking mess. Ya know? I mean, it happens, right? We all fall and the human race is broken and I am one of them. But, it doesn’t have to be forever. I don’t have to burn in the fires. I am saved! I’m gonna be a saint! God told me. He actually wants me to be an exorcist, and I get it. I know demons. I can spot them in a fellow a mile away. It scares me too much right now, but I pray every day. And I absorb the evils and pain of those around me.

         Ok, take this example. The other day I was hanging out with Mr. Mike, right? You know, the guy living out of the hotel? He’s a staple of the Rivertown community at this point. I love him. He’s my brother. But the guy is on a suicide trip that’s not even gonna ever get him as high as that sky he’s chasing. Ya know? He’s chasing the dragon. And this is not funny. This is metaphor for destruction and death. Well, you think I’m gonna let him fall? Heck no! I pray for him every day. I spent five hours in his bed the other day while he drank, and every time he took a sip I felt a nail get pounded into the flesh of my wrist. You think that’s fun? No, exorcism? Not right now, God. May you forgive my uncooperative nature. Hehe. I’m a rebel saint.

         Anyway, I’m telling you all this to let you know that anyone can be saved. But not everyone can be a saint. No. No way. That’s my calling. Not everyone is called to be a saint. I bet in the history of all humanity maybe .01% of us has ever gotten there. And that includes me.

         So I’ve been reflecting and I see this time on the planet as my redemptive work for humanity. Broken, fallen people. Smoking their lungs to oblivion, binging on the latest series like it was the sweetest ice cream you could taste, heck probably just eating too much ice cream, too. Ugh. These people. They don’t learn!! And that’s the thing to sainthood – no one gets it. Do you get it? Oh well, probably not.

         But yeah, I’m going to travel abroad to South America and start by fixing the system there. It takes good souls for that work, right? And I’m a saint-soul as I like to call it. I don’t know what’s down there actually. I haven’t ever been there and so that’s kind of exciting to me. What are they like in Latin America? Do they mess up as bad as we are here? Probably. Maybe in different ways. Or maybe worse. It’s scary to think about these things, sometimes. The world needs saving, and it’s gonna take me to make it happen.

         Anyway, enough about me, right? The first rule of sainthood is you don’t talk about sainthood. You got that reference, right? Oh, come on, laugh a little, I’m just joking. I can never have fun with anyone.
I’m going to my cousin’s wedding right now. Somewhere up in Ithaca, I think. I love Ithaca. I think it’s beautiful. My old buddy Mark went there. He’s a chemist now, I think. He was smart, but I always had to remind him he was being indoctrinated by the elites. I know that. He doesn’t know that. So, in a way I always felt bad for him. Well, ok, maybe I visited him the one time at Cornell, and maybe I didn’t tell him the right way. He got pissed. Never heard from him since. Big loss on his part – he will not be making it to the afterlife, I’m afraid. Poor guy. Well I’ll always pray for him, don’t you worry.

         But in Ithaca I love seeing those waterfalls by the bagel shop. I tried my first cream cheese and jelly there. It was delicious. And I got to show Mark parts of the town he didn’t know about. So naiive and innocent he was sometimes. Hah. God. But I taught him about his own damn town. He wouldn’t even know about the gorges and forests were it not for me. Well, I’m a saint. We do tend to know stuff others aren’t privy to. I’m not bragging, at all, but I’m just stating the facts.

         Ah, but the wedding. Yeah it’s gonna be my cousin Mia marrying to her super long-term boyfriend Max. They’re cool. Very liberal though. One Thanksgiving I had to leave early because they were promoting what they called “democratic parenting,” their words, not mine. They tried to convince us that kids know best? So if you disagree with them, but they feel a certain way about a decision, you listen to them. I mean, can’t you at least talk things out anymore? No, you listen to the child, and you “guide them” through their beliefs and values. Well for crying out loud isn’t that the role of a healthy parent? I told them they were child abusers and then I left. Enough said. I won’t tolerate such nonsense.

         That’s not to say I don’t like them, they are cool. Max produces music I think? You know we never really get deep into these things. It’s always felt superficial. And I’m like the nicest guy on the planet. Oh well. It’s their loss. I pray for the every day, you know? Like, right now I feel a real stiff crank in my neck just from the err of their ways. I don’t anticipate the fall of the modern world lightly, it’s already here.
Uuf, I am kind of exhausted now. You’re keeping me up. I need my car nap. You know? I’m exhausted? I want you to know where I’m coming from, but sometimes I don’t know if anyone gets it. It doesn’t help that my mom is the bitchiest driver you could ever come across. It makes me ashamed. Jersey driving doesn’t have to be any different than anywhere else, but she wears her approach like a badge of honor. You know what they sayeth, “pride comes before the fall.” So, let me rest, we’ll catch up when I’m at the venue.

“Chris, we’ve made it,” Mom said.

“Meh.”
“Chris?”

“I’m sleeping, let me sleep.”

“Chris we’re at the hotel and you can take your nap to the bed. It’ll be much more comfortable, sweetie.”

“I told you not to ever call me that! I’m an adult now. A big adult. God, Mom. Why can’t you ever fucking take me seriously?”

         Well, Mom couldn’t handle a little dishing of truth I guess, because she just slams the door and walks away. I don’t say this lightly, but she’s something of a cunt. Any normal mom would just know their son when he wants to sleep. She’s always controlling me. She’s gonna do everything she can to stop me from being a saint. I know her. She’s jealous and manipulative.

         Anyway, that was it for me and my nap. I wasn’t going to get my rest and I know that when that happens, I get cranky. Come on, Mom. For fuck’s sake. A little compassion?
But I really don’t want to waste my time on her. At least she got me here. Dad, silent as always, let her have the floor. We listened to four hours straight of Joni Mitchell. Joni. Fucking. Mitchell. It’s not easy with this family sometimes. I’m praying for them.


         I unlocked my passenger door, no childlock on it woohoo!, and I had to get out. Mostly because of the raucous nature of the arriving guests. I don’t know half of these fools. Must be the liberal constituency, or should I just say the whole damned party. I saw lots of pink, floral dresses, a lot of guys in jeans, and I could have sworn there was a clown, but some people would say that doesn’t respect someone’s gender ideology. I’m here to say – fuck that. I will speak my mind.

         But, in addition to that, and here’s why I’m really speaking with you – is because of that Latin American mission I mentioned. It is my calling, it’s my destiny, and I’ve already applied. I’ll get the interview and I’ll be down there healing in a few months’ time.

         There’s only one reason why I’m here. Mia mentioned to me that her friend Desmond did The Tour several years back, that it had made a nice impact on his life, and that he now had found a nice comfy job working as a Director of an NGO. Bah. I would never compromise to the government like that, you know that, right? But…maybe Desmond can give me inside pointers to this whole thing. I mean, at least he might have a story or two. I don’t want to overwhelm him with my story – most people can’t handle it. I’d like to save most of the details for my autobiography, when I have the time. Maybe sort of like Thomas Merton, although God knows I never ever succumbed to communism. Poor soul, I’m sure he’s purging those thoughts in a middle place right now. I can’t say he was a saint because, well, he was mostly wrong in most of his life, but I do appreciate his writing prowess and I think that I could create a much better modern-day narrative for a real saint. Sorry, Merton.

         But, yeah, this whole trip for me is a design by God. Why would I select The Tour? Why would this wedding happen right after that? Why is Desmond at this wedding? God is good. Time to pray and hopefully this wedding will be over with sooner than later. I told Mom not to get us a hotel, I’d even drive us back, but she scolded me saying “the drink would be at my head,” whatever that means. She never speaks straight. All these riddles. I’m a saint and I don’t drink. Well, I don’t get drunk. I’m not a slack saint you know, lol.


         I wanted to tell you about the ceremony. There was none. Godless heathens. You know though, I kind of respect the absolutism of their choices. I mean, they could be pagans. They could be witches. Those are much trickier, confused people. They are actually trapped in their ideology. An atheist. You demonstrate proof of God and you got ‘em. I might covert today. I might. But no ceremony is a disturbing thought. They aren’t united under God’s law. It’s not a real marriage. Anyway, no one will listen to “crazy Chris.” I pray for them. I mean, we can snap this gender shit in the bud, I’ll tell you that right now.

         From the hotel we took a yellow school bus to some sort of massive pavilion. It was alright. I’ve seen better. But it was a good size and Max’s parents were the loaners of the property. I mean, it’s their frickin’ house and property. I thought that was kind of cool, in a way. My parents will never do that for me. Granted as a saint I won’t have time for this stuff. Procreation? God’s plan. But a real saint doesn’t have time for that. It’s my sacrifice for the greater good. Trust me, many women have wanted my hand, and I have turned down so many wedding possibilities. You know that I pray for those women. They were sent here to tempt me. They weren’t great people. And I think I almost died for a couple – MaryBeth for example? She was on crack in Paterson several times. I supported her. I guided her. I prayed with her and stayed with her and tried to play with her. Uy, I’m getting unsaintlike. I only took hits to be on her level. That’s my sacrifice. That’s what saints do. I could have died just for her own well-being. God these women.


         It's a party of about 100. Not massive, but it is a kind of nice number for the size of the place here. I mean, it’s just not that big. The views are cool, I see a lot of green, and some rolling hills, and I might just leave the wedding for the waterfalls if it gets too boring. But for now, I’ll let the circus begin.

“Chris! My man, how are you?”

         That’s my cousin Manny. He’s alright. He’s always trying to boost me I think. Like I don’t have a grip on stuff. Hm…it’s really not my style. I think he’s struggling a lot, on the DL, but I’m praying.

“Hey Manny, some day, huh?”

“Oh yeah man! We got the bright blue sky and a crystal clear sun, I’m pumped! So good to be here! So glad you’re here, too.”

“I think it might rain, but yeah, it’s nice here I guess. The waterfalls are a little nicer don’t you think?”

“Haha, you think there’s any room for a wedding party down at the waterfalls man?”

“They could make this really interesting is what I’m saying. Don’t take me so literally man. This is alright.”

         It felt like Manny had his eyes on me, it felt demonic. I don’t like when he does his gaze. And I know it’s evil because he looks at you like he knows you, like he’s “got” you, and it’s just like to me, no man. Back off.

“You got a problem, Manny?”

“What are you talking about my dude?”

“It’s a joke man, relax.”

         I think this world thinks too much. Now I’m thinking to myself how do I tolerate this pain? My right shoulder feels like it’s numb and on fire. I know. You try to feel that. Here I am in the middle of no where for a wedding I don’t care about and I’m talking to this bozo. I don’t really have a choice here, though. I might be able to save Manny, a little bit. I’m saying this prayer to Michael, you know the archangel?, and for looking at myself I can say my gift is growing because Manny is snapping out. He’s chilling. You know? He’s going to speak soon…watch…

“You got anything going on these days?”

         Told you.

“Oh me? Little bit of this, little bit of that? My main focus right now is the op-eds I get out at all the conservative papers across Jersey. You wouldn’t understand them probably but it’s really cool. Like a service, but they pay me…”

         That gaze again. He’s jealous. He’s fuming against me and I’m not taking his fall. This is when my heart tells me to go, but the saint in me says this….

“Well, I do have one another sorta big project, maybe. I don’t know if you would get it.”

         Silent gaze. Ah Lord please bless and protect my cousin. I pray for his soul and his redemption, in the name of our Lord, amen. And God is telling me to keep talking so Manny can’t do some incantation. Think, think, think, oh saint me just walk away!!

“Well, maybe I can tell you.”

         This is why I will always feel pain. I keep giving people second and third chances. Manny’s always been out to stop me. Googly eye gaze and he can only say:

“Go ahead, man, I’m listening.”

         He’s going to catch me somewhere…and I still don’t walk away.

“Well then listen, ok? Actually listen. Please, this is really important to me. I’m going to be a saint. I’m going to do The Tour.”

“The Tour!”

“The Tour Manny. The Tour.”

“Ok…and why is that?”

         Subtle mockery. Pray, Chris, pray.

“I already told you.”

“The Tour. Sure.”

“No. I’m going to be a saint. The Tour is part of being a saint.”

“Ok man, for sure, totally. Super cool. Uh, yeah, and what are you gonna do?”

         I thought my Mom was a griller. It’s like I don’t talk about my sainthood readily and when faced with this evil…it could go anyway. I won’t give up on my cousin.

“It’s The Tour man. We’re gonna visit a poor community for the summer with my church and I’m teaching the troubled kids about God. I’m trying to save the community.”

“Right on man. Well I don’t totally understand the God stuff, haha, you know me, but that’s really cool that you would take that time to do that. I love it.”

“What don’t you understand about God? He created us, He died for us, He loves us, and we can all go to His heaven if we abdicate sin and live in communion with his divine plan.”

         And now he has the audacity to look away?

“See, right here Chris, right here, look over there. You see the tall, black dude there? He worked with The Tour, through a different church obviously, but he put a lot of time into resourcing some of the schools down in West Virginia? I think?”

“What does that have to do with my sainthood, Manny. Haha, that guy doesn’t mean anything to me, hah. You’re funny.”

         Always with the upstaging, Manny. I handle myself with serenity because I can’t always control the ways of the flock. But Manny will someday know I was always tolerating him. He’ll see…

“Well I’m gonna connect you two. Like, for sure, Dennis is his name would be super cool to talk with. He’s so chill, so cool, so nice. He loved The Tour. He’s always talking about it. Hey, here, let me get him – Dennis!”

         sThat’s enough, Manny. Count me out of this one. You’re raging my past sinful ways and my drinking…this is my sin that God punishes me with. And I cannot pass this test. I’m drinking…


…and, I’m fricking dancing baby!


         I SMILE, WIDE. Because here I am on the dance floor and I feel at home again. I can’t tell if minutes are passing or hours, it doesn’t matter, I feel alive. It doesn’t matter to think about the afterlife and stuff. Vultures picking on my bones at some point. We don’t worry about that now. Life is here. And it’s now. And oh! I feel like I’m back at Electric Zoo fest again!! And I don’t even –


         Oh wow, she’s kinda pretty. A Softy. She needs the healing love of a touch. High five! Or what if I jump really really high! Haha. That’s a new dance move my God my God. I do this for you. Even with alcohol you can do God’s work, huh. I wish my parents would keep their eyes off of me…aaaand, here comes my dad:

“Get off the floor, you’re a fool.”

“Oh dad, what are you talking about, we’re at a wedding and I’m having a little fun.”

“No you look like an idiot and half of the party is wondering what you’re on.”

         Now I try. Hard. Real hard sometimes. To just forget about my dad’s punitive approach to life. Ever since I was a kid he always thwarted my fun. My creativity. That’s why I’m so snappy at times. I don’t know who’s threatening me to conform or who genuinely wants me to enjoy myself. My dad’s in that first category.

“Dad, leave me alone, I’m having fun.” And I’m about to talk to Mary Beth about her tango, but damn! He’s got me caught by the entire arm! That’s like a fucking assault or something.

Next thing I know, I do have a real nice steak in front of me, some mashed potatoes, carrots, and gravy. Mmm. I can do this.


         It’s now frickin’ ten o’clock! Alright? I downed that food. Heck, I’m really glad my dad did not get me that pulled pork from their fire pit. Looked nasty. But that steak was actually pretty good. I even stuck to mostly water. Mighta had some of that wine that cousin Gabrielle offered, but just barely. Hm..I will say that my dad took an evil approach to me there. Honestly. I always feel humiliated around him. Like my best is the devil to him. Like I’m a spirit that doesn’t even deserve liberation so much as extinction. These are those times that I can get real sad, you know. Even at a joyful wedding. And I look around and I see so much suffering. Everyone has smiles on their face, but I know inside all of the pain that they are starting to feel around here. My stomach feels like there’s a volcano collapsing inside. Dear God, let their pain unite me with your pain. In Christ’s name our Lord, Amen.


         I must have stayed at that spot, praying, sometimes crying, sometimes pleaing, for at least an hour. Hear me O Lord, I would say. Hear me. Heal me. Save me. Cleanse me. I petition you Lord to take me where you need me. I pretty much had those words on repeat in that hour. And the Lord granted it that the hour felt like it’s own eternity in heaven. Well I know heaven will be bliss, and maybe this was a short twinge of purgatory being taken off my afterlife sentence. Hehe. See, there’s always a silver lining!

         I’ve gotta get up at this point. Maybe I’ll take a stretch.

         Oh, God. It’s Manny again. He’s waving me over into his corner. I manage to catch a glimpse of my dad’s eyes and it is an immediate: “Yes, you, Chris, are going to join Manny. He’ll make a man out of you.”

         What Dad didn’t know was that Manny was on his way to take a shot. I knew this because it’s always his tradition around this time of any gathering, no matter how big, nor how small. Well I figure I can sit here in union with God (what I want), or I can sacrifice my meditations and mysticism for some earthly conversion. Now, you know, I know, evangelization comes with sainthood territory. Manny is probably more receptive to these messages now anyway, God forgive me, with some relaxation and good times in his system. Maybe Dad wants me to help him, too.

“Hey, Manny.”

“Eyyy, Chris! The man of the hour! Getting down on that dancefloor I saw. Good for you man. You know that Sally girl you were dancing with is single…”

         I swear to you it took me everything I could to not have a freak out. I’m dating a girl right now. Well, she’s in the psych ward. Er…yeah, I have my past. Lots of stuff is in my past. I’ve lost friends to some bad things on the streets, I guess…I’m not sure how things wound up for all of them. I lost my only other girlfriend to her addiction, at least romantically. I think her parents took her back in, but it was on the manipulative condition that she stop seeing me…I try to laugh with Manny, as if it’s some ball busting.

“Yeah right Manny, I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Well, you’re enjoying yourself, right? That’s what matters.”

“Until you started taking your jokes too far Manny.”

         His jaw dropped a half inch on that line! He’s always so composed. I guess I’m defrauding him.

“My man, my bad, I’m not sure what you mean…here, though, the bar’s got a Johnny Walker Blue Label right here with your name on it…”

         I turn to look at the bar price listings…I think it’s something like twenty frickin’ bucks for a shot and then of course you gotta tip and the fool in me would probably drop like three bucks tip on a Johnny Walker. Manny’s probably friends with this guy and racking in money on the side…

“Manny, enough.”

         Honestly it’s at this point that I am starting to feel like the crazy one, because he is acting all coy or innocent or something.

“You know and I know that this Johnny is $20 and that Sally is nobody to me.”

“…wha – “

“I came here to excorcise your guys’ souls, I came here to reflect on The Tour, and you even offered that I could talk with The Tour.”

“The Tour…? Ah, yes! Come on, let’s bring him right over…let me introduce you to Barry, the guy who served in West Virginia.”

         Inside my head I am screaming: “I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ANY BARRY I WANT AN APOLOGY.” But the next thing I know the Johnny Walker is in my hand and I’m not even sure that I paid for it. Well when in Rome, or is that the bad man from below creeping up into my soul?? Is Manny trying to set me up with Sally? Ohh so then Barry sees and can report me to HQ. Very wise, Manny, very wise. Well the goddam drink is down. My soul is willing, and my flesh is weak. I realize that maybe even Manny can be leveled with:

“Look Manny, life is more than Johnny Walker. And it’s more than some women named Sally [admittedly, even I wanted to know what she looked like, but I dissuaded temptation]. I have a girlfriend. I am probably going to change the world during The Tour. Then I’d like to be a deacon, then if I have to, keep on exorcising and find my sainthood from St. Peter in heaven. I won’t tell everybody that, but I’m trying to get you to see the bigger picture, let me work myself and grow into the Godly man.”

         You know it took a lot of courage for me to lay my path out like that. Especially considering who I was dealing with. God I knew he was gonna force me to take the Walker. I bet I paid for it all, too. I’m the generous one. But I got my truth out. And Manny, as I hope, may awaken. At least a little. Or maybe…

“Here he is, Barry. My cousin: Chris. He’s looking into The Tour! I think he’s in and he just wants a few pointers on how to approach -- …”

         I tune out and I walk away. There was nothing to say. I had bled my heart. My soul. To Manny. In some ways I thought he could get it. But he has chosen to interrupt my disclosure so that I can listen to someone else try to drown me in Johnny Walker. I’m not stupid. I realize that just doing The Tour doesn’t mean you’re a good person. I bet this Barry guy took the opportunity to climb his career ladder. No good deed counts unless the intention is pure. So, if you ask me, the guy’s a hack. Probably one of Manny’s sidekicks in their evil, soul-apothecary minds.
         …aaand, next thing I know I’m dancing again, and I see this medium-sized blonde with who must be her brother. A real tall linebacker type who is supporting her. That’s kind of sweet. And. That is Sally. Of course I had a couple more Johnny Walkers. And of course I put them on Manny’s tab. He milked me of at least five I’m thinking. I didn’t invite Barry to one, now did I. So. I put my hand on Sally’s shoulder to say “hi” and let her know I’m in a committed, monogamous relationship, and I am reaching when…*WHAM*


         I’m waking up with the most throbbing pain in my jaw that I could have asked for. And I am not on the dance floor. I’m back at the hotel and the sun is out?? It’s gotta be at least eight in the morning. Mom tells me that she’s got a piece of mail that she had brought with her to share with me. Mom knew about my Tour ambitions. I shared with her because I knew she could keep her mouth shut, until it was time for me to launch the new phase of my life. Well, here’s the catch, ok. My Mom did The Tour way back. Way way back. I found out about it through her. She even thought it would be good for me. So I’m rubbing my jaw and she drops this letter on the bed, stamped by The Tour:


         “…we are pleased to inform you that we have advanced your application to the recruitment stage. Effective          immediately, you have been assigned to the local recruiter, Barry Lyman, to discuss your interests, your          motivations, and how you would best serve in The Tour.


         Congratulations again!”


         And my Mom says to me, “Barry’s my old partner from The Tour. We had managed to connect you to him as recruiter. Granted, he doesn’t know, yet. But I’m pretty sure when he finds your name attached to his list… you might be an adios, my love.” And she breaks down into tears…and…Oh gosh, even I’m a mess a little bit now. And then I smile. Because it’s just another test of the Lord…on my way…to sainthood…