Secret Conclave Imperative!

                 Guys, this story is for you today. If you are a girl, lady, female person you can stop reading right now. Go do your nails. Or watch a Richard Gere movie. Or, Lord knows, your hair could use a swipe or two. I don't need anyone else taking Cathy's side on this thing. She's doing pretty good all by her lonesome.

                O. K. fellas, here's the deal. My wife gave me a vacation trip for my birthday. She booked me on a flight to Albuquerque, New Mexico. I know what you're thinking. Are they having a rodeo or the southwestern national finals bog-in the first week of April? I don't think so! At least, there ain't no horses or tractors on those travel brochures she's had laying out on the kitchen counter for the last month!

                She's got pictures of Indians dancing. We have two art museum books; a travel log to the various "can't miss" national historical sites; a "buyer's guide" to Navaho jewelry; a talking tour of old Santa Fe; a how to build your own adobe instruction booklet; Taos after dark; and a schedule of plays at the Albuquerque ensemble theater in the round.

                Guys, I'm in trouble. She didn't have no pictures of Billy the Kid. If I've got to go I want to see where they fought them Lincoln County wars. I want to smell gun powder where Pat Garret ended the young outlaw's run. I want to go to that Area 54 place and see the mutant kids. I want to stand on a street corner in downtown Roswell and see if I "fit-in". I want to hike up a gorge and find some gold. Isn't Yuma in New Mexico? I think Clint Eastwood was in jail down there in one of his movies. I'd like to see where they kept the murderers, horse thieves, bank robbers and derelicts.  Now, I'd take that over tea and jalapeños at the Grande de Hacienda anytime.

                Its gets worse! I saw a receipt for the El Paradero Bed and Breakfast Inn. I don't like staying where I can't pronounce the name! And something tells me the price of tortilla chips just went up. We're in the "Major Philipe" room overlooking the "historical downtown district". Reckon they charge for that view? And, in addition to the awe inspiring southwestern breakfast we will be enchanted each evening by our personal Mexicali band. Can you say "gringo"!

                Boys, I like to stay at Fred and Darlene's Motor Lodge. They've got the full price (usually around $39.00) posted prominently on the sign post out side. There's no hidden cost. Darlene usually checks you in herself. They'll take cash. They give their rooms numbers like Admiral Benbow intended. And you don't have to worry about breaking anything. Listen, if it's got a t. v. and hot water and ain't nothing eating you, I'm o. k. You don't get much but you don't pay much. And if you are extra lucky, there will be a Waffle House right across the street.

                She gave me this trip back in January. I was a little surprised. But you guys know about that peace and harmony thing. I didn't say nothing. Although I'd rather had a Ping G10 driver or one of those new Scotty Cameron Newport putters. And I had figured on going to see my Mother during spring break. Now, that is a real vacation.

                I would have settled for a trip to the race in Talladega. A spring training baseball game would have been nice. I can always use a pair of running shorts. The truck needs a new muffler. Well, actually, the truck needs a new body...and a new motor. A CD with the greatest hits of Gene Watson would have sufficed. Listen, a box of Moon Pies is a pretty nice birthday gift. I'm not a hard guy to please.  

                I've never been to New Mexico. I've never even thought about going to New Mexico! And I can't remember now exactly how I picked it. Cathy says that we are going to have a good time.

                She has pointed out all the history we are going to see. I'm not sure some painted ponies on the side of a gully are my idea of history. I know watching a guy in tight pants twirl around a stage is not! Nor is a poached egg smothered with hollandaise and pepper sauce. I can't think of one country music singer from New Mexico. I don't know one cowboy from there. I don't think Annie Oakley, Geronimo or Big John Chisholm ever lived there. I don't even know if that famous trail started out..or ended up in Santa Fe.

                Guys, here's the real rub. And you already know where this is going. All of the "preliminary little things" (read air line tickets, hotel rooms, rental car) were put on the credit card. Our credit card! My credit card! Ye gads, I'm paying for my own birthday gift! And Cathy, out of love and respect, is coming along with me!

                Fellas, have I been outwitted here? She gives me a gift that doesn't cost her anything. And, oh by the way, she gets to go along! She will enjoy every breakfast. Every curio shop. Every genuine authentic western motif. And every late night serenade by the Wandering Gaucho Band. I'm not exactly sure who is vacationing and who is paying! I'm so confused now I don't even remember whose birthday we are celebrating.

                Guys, I'm calling a secret conclave. We've got to talk this one over. Somebody has got to give me some advice. And we've got to move quickly. And decisively! Listen, it's New Mexico this spring. It could be New York City next year. Or Vermont! I can still go to the race in Talladega. I can still make it up to Mom's. I can buy my own Moon Pies. It's not too late. But let me tell you, the clock is ticking.

                Help!

           Respectfully,

                 Kes