Round Robin Bets Explained 🔄: The Conservative Parlay ...

Continuing
Item ocho: The Bureau will front the necessary funds to outfit the project initially with food, drink, and the like. Reimbursements are not an option. My request lists will be filled, without question.
Item niner: The Bureau will source all explosives as per the attached (see attached).
Item ten: The Bureau will provide a sidearm and ammunition for me to carry in the field. I cannot bring my Casull as it’s in Kentucky. This will be in .44 Magnum or greater caliber. Again, non-negotiable.
Item eleven: People will be ordered, under penalty of field law, to have a good time.
Item 12: There is no Item 12.
I sent this off to Sam and figured I’d hear him scream all the way from Reno.
He didn’t even argue. He sent off my signed contract to me within a day. He agreed to everything else on the list without so much as a bureaucratic bat of the eye.
“I knew I should have demanded $2,500/day,” I swore lightly. “This was too easy…”
I spend the next couple of days designing a route from Reno, out to the field, to as many mines as practicable, and back within the allotted time.
I figure at least 2 or 3 days to reach and demolish the first mine. This isn’t a group of two or three compliant geology doctoral students. This is going to be an untidy mess of fifteen doctors, from many different fields of endeavor, all slightly united by being, at least distantly tangentially, related to geology.
The logistics are going to be a nightmare. Each participant will need a full MSA Safety Incorporated (Mine Safety Appliances) compliant suite before anyone breaches the first mine adit. Luckily, the Self Rescuers have proven much more applicable to this type of work over the heavy, uncomfortable SCBA gear and air pack. The Bureau will supply much of the gear, such as miner’s lamps, battery packs, camera, film, flashlights, back-up lights, a portable generator, an electric jackhammer, and the like. They will also have a ‘special situations suit’ for me, just in case; mine is in storage after its last decontamination.
The Bureau will provide everyone with NORM badges, ALTAIR^® 4XR Multigas Detectors, V-Gard^® Full Brim Hard Hats, a Latchways Personal Rescue Device^® harness and gear, Blockz^™ Safety Eyewear, U-No-Flinch^® disposable earplugs, and a commemorative Bureau monogrammed towel.
Participants will be required to provide their own steel-toe or equivalent, intrinsically-safe field boots. They will need to bring their own hammers, Leatherman type folding tools, climbing gear if desired, gloves, and coveralls; as well as other field clothing.
This has all the earmarks of a genuine clusterfuck in the making.
I fly with Esme and the kids to the Windy City. After a couple of Chicago-dogs and Special Exports, I get them trundled off with family, I grab a burner flight to Reno.
I arrive at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport three days before the field trip is supposed to commence. I am greeted by Dr. Sam Muleshoe himself. He smiles, shakes my hand, and slips me a nice Cuban cigar from his private stock. Seems he went to the Caribbean on his long-overdue vacation.
I have my old room at the Hotel 666, just down the street from the Bureau.
It’s a bit late in the afternoon and Sam asks if I’d like to go out to dinner. I thank him but beg off. I need to get all my gear out and sorted, make some calls, and take a little downtime.
These interconnecting flights are getting more laborious as time goes on.
“Fair enough,” Sam says, “Let’s meet at my office at, say, 0900 tomorrow? That OK?”
“Works for me,” I say, “I’ll see you then.”
I infiltrate the hotel lobby. Paulie the porter recognizes me and greets me warmly.
“Doctor of Rock,” he exclaims, “Welcome back!”
“Hey, Paulie. Good to see you, lad. Keeping out of trouble?” I ask.
Paulie reddens. He knows that I know he’s into something here in Reno other than just the hospitality industry.
At the front desk, check-in is but a brief formality. I am handed the keys to my old room and bid a very good night.
My luggage is already gone. Paulie saw to that. He said he actually likes my aluminum baggage.
Up in my room, it’s all business as usual. Except for the fruit & cheese basket on my work desk. Plus a couple of bottles of Russian Imperial Export vodka, a 12-pack of Bitter Lemon, some sliced limes, and a bucket of ice that Paulie just fetched from the machine down the hall.
Paulie drags my luggage to the bedroom and asks if he should unpack.
“Nah, Paulie, thanks just the same.” I respond, “I’ll get it. I’ll only be here a few days.”
“Sure, Rock,” and he scampers over to the mini-bar.
“Look here,” he says, flanging it open, “It’s all pre-paid!”
The mini-bar is stocked to the gills with beer, liquor miniatures, and eatables of various descriptions.
I smile widely, thank Paulie, and slip him a ten-spot for all his help.
“Can Paulie get Doctor of Rock anything?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, “When you have a chance,” and I hand him one of my cigars, “If you can find any of these in town, grab me a couple-three boxes. Need any cash beforehand?”
Paulie takes the cigar, sniffs it, smiles, and says, “No sir! Paulie has great credit in town! I’ll find some for you, don’t you worry!”
“Great, thanks Paulie,” I say, “You can keep that cigar for yourself as a deposit.”
“Yes, sir!” he smiles and bebops merrily off down the hall.
I do the usual. Make up my portable office, make myself a cold beverage, and make a series of phone calls.
I call the Agency and speak to Agent Rack. I tell him I’m here for the next fortnight, everything’s, so far, under control, and thank him and Agent Ruin for the Swiss Army knife.
“Be sure to look at that knife very closely, Doctor,” he says. He chuckles, says ‘Adios’ and rings off.
Curiouser and curiouser.
I call Esme and talk with her, the kids, my remaining family, and various grandparents. The latter are slightly annoyed I didn’t come with, but they all say that will give them excuses to visit us once we’re settled.
I can hardly wait.
Marvelous.
I draw the shades as per the Myanmar Directive, peel, and am in the large in-room Jacuzzi before the phone grows cool. I’m a bit tired and decide to make it an early night, after a bracing fresh drink or seven, a cigar or two, and the latest copy of Mining Monthly.
The next morning, it’s downstairs and off to the obligatory morning breakfast buffet. It was well above par, with all the usual protein, carbohydrate, and sugar-rich offerings any good breakfast chain would have to offer.
A bit later, in Sam’s office, I’m sitting in my usual chair, Vasque Trakkers up on the edge of his desk. I’m kitted out in my usual field garb: field boots, tall Scotch woolen socks, cargo shorts, tasteless Hawaiian shirt, new Nevada-made sheath Bowie, and Black Stetson.
“Go ahead. Make a snide comment. Make my field season.” I think.
I’m working on a fairly decent cup of DOI coffee and fresh cigar while Sam attends to some Bureau necessities.
One of the Bureau’s vehicle mechanics knocks on the door and has a quiet chat with Sam.
Sam smiles, shakes his head affirmatively, and says we’ll be there soon.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“Just you wait,” Sam says, as he goes back to pounding on his keyboard.
“Fair enough,” I muse, and grab last month’s copy of Mining Monthly.
A half-hour later Sam gets up from behind his desk and says “Let’s go. Your steed awaits.”
“Outstanding!,” I reply and follow him out back to the rear lots of the Bureau.
We walk out and I see my venerable old trailer in the shop. There are several technicians swarming around it.
Sam walks over to a large dun-colored vehicle, kicks a tire, turns, and tosses me the keys.
“Well, here she is. What do you think?” Sam asks, smiling as wide as Glen Canyon.
It’s a recently de-commissioned US Military Hummer H1 Alpha Wagon, sent to the Bureau under special request.
It’s huge, it’s ungainly, it’s ghastly. It still has the weapon hard-mounts.
I love it.
Sam smiles even more broadly, which I didn’t think was possible for a human, and he tells me:
“This thing has it all. 5.7 L Vortec 5700 gasoline V8 Supercharged TBI engine. GM 4L80-E dual-gate 8-speed transmission. Ground clearance of 19 inches. A Central Tire Inflation System. HF, UHF, LF, CB and SW radios. Power take-offs, twin 42 gallons saddle tanks, a 20-ton winch this thing could tow a stalled dinosaur if needed.”
“I doubt that last one will be necessary,” I say.
He tells me to get in and take a drive.
So I do.
It’s like driving a building around the parking lot.
Loads of power, tons of low-end torque, huge gas tanks; it will easily handle the trailer full of explosives.
Well, there’s that sorted. I park the beast out of the way until it’s needed.
We check on the trailer. It’s about half-full of my order. Seems they’re having trouble sourcing a plunger-type detonator and I’m asked if it’s really necessary.
Sam grabs the miscreant by the scruff of the neck, drags him out of ear-shot, and reads him the riot act.
He returns, guaranteeing me that my order would be filled, to the letter, by tomorrow, and salutes “Sir!”
Back in Sam’s office, Sam goes to the safe and pulls out a large plain-brown paper wrapped package.
He plops it on the desk and motions for me to take a look.
In the package are a hip holster, several boxes of ammunition, and a Taurus Raging Bull Model 454 pistol. And it’s unsurprisingly chambered in .454 Magnum.
“That was a pure bitch to find, order, and get delivered in time,” Sam smiles. “But nothing is too good for our Pro from Dover. You can just imagine the pencil-pushers freaking when this requisition came wafting through.”
“Sam, thanks,” I say, “That if you’ll pardon the pun, is just what the Doctor ordered.”
And the holster even fit.
Sam and I spend the rest of the day going over the itinerary I’ve created.
Sam has many reservations. We chat about them, and after a while, I do as well.
“Rock,” he says, “this is a group of 15 different lab- and office-bound doctors. Not field types, by any stretch. Don’t you think you’re being too aggressive with your schedule?”
True enough. I had prepared it using the two-month-long field trek with Al, Chuck, and Leo as a model.
Three eager geologist-types are significantly different than 15 non-geologists probably out in the field for the very first time. Again, logistics came up and bit me on the ass.
Sam points out that any mines we manage to close on this trip will be lagniappe.
“Rock, you’re doing that thing again,” Sam smiles, “Being all resourceful, competent, and efficient. This isn’t just a shake-down cruise. It’s the orientation for a bunch of, what you so colorfully refer to as, ‘baloney-loaf’ PhDs.”
“I have to agree,” I reply, “I was being overly aggressive. Let me cogitate on the matter tonight at the hotel and I’ll present you a revised itinerary over coffee and doughnuts in your office in the morning.”
“That sounds good, Rock,” Sam replies, “I’ve had to deal with crowds like this before. It’ll be like herding cats. Individually, they’re probably brilliant. Collectively, out in the field, they’re going to be a bunch of stumbling greenhorns. Try not to overwhelm them.”
“Sound advice,” I tell Sam, “If we can close any mines at all, it’ll be a miracle. Let me work on this. I’ll be back in the morning once you purchase doughnuts; get the good Krispy ones, not those ‘Drunken Donuts’ fat pills...”
“I knew I’d be paying for this one way or another,” Sam sighs.
“You know how I’m loath to disappoint you,” I reply.
Back at the hotel, I order a Mongolian bar-be-que lunch, get comfortable, and set to work on a revised field itinerary.
“Hmmm…let’s see…Cigars? Check. Adult beverages? Check. Laptop? Check. Calls made and lunch ordered? Check. Guess I’m ready to work.” I muse.
I begin to revise the itinerary for 15 novices. It’s proceeding nicely when lunch arrives.
After a lovely faux-Asian repast, it’s back to work.
No calls, luckily. I’m back in the ‘zone’ and cranking out foolscap at the rate of knots. I read, re-read, edit, and revise my recommendations.
For a real field geology trip, this would be a 14-day junket, it’d be so easy. For these characters, it’s going to be a real grind. However, I’ve built in time for relocation. Moving 15 novices from Point A to Point B in the desert, in the summer, is going to take considerably more time that Al, Chuck, Leo, and me packing up and hauling ass.
Plus, I have to build in some serious orientation time. Orientation with explosives and explosives safety. Introduction to field geology and geological practices. Primers on field safety beyond explosives and explosive handling. Overview of mine access gear and it’s uses. Synopsis of mine environments, dangers, and opportunities for early death. Briefing on desert field camping and craft; including weapons safety and handling, the necessity of proper hydration, camp culture, and comportment.
Gad, it just goes on and on…
I look outside for the first time since lunch and it’s pitch black out there. Oh, well, another day down the proverbial tubes.
I have a good first draft of the itinerary. I decide to pull the pin on the day.
I call Es and find she’s out shopping.
Bloody marvelous.
I talk with my girls and get their ‘what I want from this trip, Daddy’ lists. Chat with some relatives, give them the condensed version of what I’d doing out there rather than being at home and basically come to discover things are A-OK.
I call Rack and Ruin to inform them of the latest developments.
They tell me they already know as they’ve talked with Sam today. They also inform me they, and their boss might just be dropping by in the field, as ‘observers’, later in the trip.
“Checking up on me, hmm?” I ask, jokingly.
“Yes.” came the terse reply.
“Double marvelous.” I muse as I hang up the phone.
Of course, I cannot let this challenge go unanswered. I retire to the Jacuzzi with a couple of cigars, a large tumbler full of iced ‘Old Thought Provoker’, a pad of paper, a pencil and an oddly crooked smile.
“Check up on the Motherfucking Pro from Dover, shall we?” I snicker.
After a light hotel buffet breakfast, I’m in Sam’s comfortable office, noshing on lovely, crème-filled pastries, sipping a Greenland coffee, to which I had recently introduced Sam, who has taken to it like a salmon on a slippery spillway.
We go over my revised itinerary and make a couple of minor revisions. Sam thinks it’ll be much more in line with likes of the gaggle of characters that should start arriving today.
I give the revisions to one of the Bureau’s secretaries and ask her to please do the updates for me. After that, Sam and I will review it one final time, and send it past the Bureau lawyers, before we have copies made for all and sundry.
In the interim, I drift back to the garage to see how my gear is coming along. Everything I ordered is ready and actually already packed in the Hummer. I ask for an inventory and I’m presented not just the inventory, but the checked register that was created as my truck was being packed for the trip.
The explosives trailer is locked and parked in a secure area. I infiltrate the grounds and open up the trailer with my keys. There’s an inventory on a clipboard in the ‘clibpoard’ [sic] cubby. With my new and improved field itinerary, there’s no way I’d use all the fireworks here, but I’m sure as hell not going to inform anyone of that fact.
“Well,” I think, “That’s all done and dusted. Nothing to do but wait for my charges to arrive.”
And arrive they did.
Over the next 24 hours, 14 of 15 participants have shown up. Luckily, with all the necessary paperwork and orientation guff, I don’t really have to be here. My job will drag on long enough. Let the Bureau bureaucrats handle them, get them all sorted, and I’ll see you after another Bavarian Crème. I saunter off back to my hotel room.
I call Esme and she’s actually there this time. She excitedly tells me that she’s found new ‘Middle East compliant’ luggage for us, whatever the hell that may be.
“It was on sale. Got us a great price!” she gushes.
“Marvelous,” I smile back into the receiver.
We chat over this and that while I regale her of the new itinerary and how the field campers are now showing up. I tell her it’s going to be quite the trek with this bunch.
After a few more chatty non-essentials, we profess our undying love for each other, and I am cautioned to come back home in one piece.
“Yes, Ma’am!,” I reply, “I will do my very best.”
I decide that Rack and Run will probably call tomorrow after the initial orientation and the welcoming dinner. So, they can wait.
My doorbell rings and it’s Paulie.
“Paulie! Stout yeoman!” I exclaim, as something about him always perks me up, “What news have you for me today?”
“Will Doctor of Rock be in his room for a while?” he asks.
“Yep, but I plan on doing laps in the Jacuzzi,” I reply.
“Then you wait right here. Do not move!,” he exclaims feverishly, “Paulie will be right back!”
Looks like I’m under starter’s orders.
So I immediately leave to refresh my drink.
Five minutes later, there’s a furtive knock on my door.
It’s Paulie, with a room service cart. A pile of some sort is concealed under a hotel tablecloth.
I open the door and Paulie scoots in.
“Look what Paulie got for you!,” he exclaims and whips off the tablecloth.
Nestled there are five boxes of Cuban Cohiba cigars, in the dimensions and wrappers, I so enjoy.
“Whoa, Paulie!,” I say, “You really knocked it out of the park this time. What are the damages?”
Paulie looks at the carpet and scuffs it a bit.
“Too much, I fear. Paulie makes mistake,” he pouts, “I spent too much of Doctor of Rock’s money,”
“Now, now, Paulie,” I say, “Belay all that nonsense. How much?”
“$200.” He croaks.
“Each?” I ask, very slightly alarmed.
“Oh, no,” he says, “For all.”
I smile like a Lewis Carroll feline and hand him $250.
“Paulie, you are a wonder.” I say, “Couldn’t be better!”
Paulie now beams.
“Paulie, how?” I ask the question that should always go unuttered.
“I know this guy…,” he smiles.
“Fair Dinkum, Paulie! You’re a wonder.” I say, “Look, I won’t say anything to anyone, but please share a little toast with me. I’m leaving early tomorrow for some time. I might not see you again, at least for quite a while.”
“But I have your card!” he says.
“Yes, however, I’m moving overseas. Still, I will be very certain to call the hotel once I’m settled and make certain you have my new contact info.” I say.
“Where are you going?” he now asks the question that should remain unqueried.
“The Middle East,” I say.
Paulie looks sore concerned.
“Nasty place. Paulie knows some people there.” he says, as he grabs my hand, “Doctor, you will be very careful over there. It’s full of crazy bad persons.”
“Like the US isn’t?” I think, “Paulie, you have my solemn promise.” I reply.
We have a short tot so we can toast our friendship. I slip him an extra $50 when he’s not looking. I know he’s got a big family back in Nogales.
“Paulie, as I like to say “Для вас и здоровья вашей семьи” [To you, your health, and the health of your family] as I raise my glass to him in the time-honored Baja Canada tipple salute.
Paulie smiles and replies, “Para usted y la salud de su familia. [For you and the health of your family].”
“You sneaky SOB.” I laugh, “You never told me you knew Russian.”
“Oh,” he smiles, “I know this guy…”
Suddenly, I think he might also know a couple of guys who go by the monikers of Rack and Ruin.
“¿Qué otros idiomas conoces? [What other languages do you know?]?” I ask.
“哦,几个,医生.”[Oh, a few, Doctor.], he replies with a smile.
“Чи новш гэж тэнэг юм. [You sneaky bastard…] ,” I reply.
“Мэдээжийн хэрэг.” [Absolutely.]” he smiles back.
Looks like the good doctor just got taught.
“Paulie,” I smile to one side, “Thanks for everything. I presume we will remain in touch “
“Мэдээжийн хэрэг, Доктор” [Absolutely, Doctor], he smiles, pushes the cart out the door and zooms down the hallway.
I just stand there behind the closed door. My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.
I do believe I just had the very first test of my new agency appointment.
After a good night’s soak and sleep, I am packed and ready to go.
Paulie arranges for my luggage to be delivered to the Bureau later in the day.
I thank him once again, in English, and wander over to the DOI to see what and with whom I’m going to be saddled over the next fortnight.
I make the corner, turn to look and the Bureau’s back parking lot is crammed with campers.
Not the people type, although there were a few of those milling about; I mean Airstream, a Winnebago, a couple of Jay Flights, a Shasta, a Sero Scotty, and an all-aluminum Aristocrat.
“Well,” I think, “That will help immensely with logistics. Fewer tents, no worries about open-air toilets, additional cooking space…now, if they can just get them all out into the field…”
I’m walking around this impromptu open-air RV show in my normal field outfit.
Not a single person gives me as much as a second glance.
I just shake my head and wander over to Sam’s office.
“Sam, did you see all that business out in the back lot?” I ask rhetorically.
“Oh, yeah,” he sighs, “It would have been nice if they would have let us know. Going to pose a few logistical problems.”
“Yep. Ten out of ten for style, but minus several million points for good thinking, yeah?,” I smirk.
“Oh, hell,” Sam says, “It’s orientation time. You ready for the show?”
I grab a Greenland and a cruller, “Now I am.”
In the Bureau’s largest conference room, complete with stage and lectern, there are 14 professorial types gathered around, just chatting up a blue streak.
There are also several other people who look suspiciously like personal assistant Graduate students.
“This bodes ill.” I consider.
I am roundly ignored again, so I slip in back, behind the curtain.
Sam arrives at the lectern and asks for quiet. He receives what he asks for in a few minutes.
“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, one and all. I am Dr. Sam Muleshoe of the Reno Bureau of the Department of the Inferior. I would like to welcome you to the first, in what we hope are many, in a series of field excursions in the Nevada desert to study, evaluate, and close abandoned mines. This is a stellar occasion, as we have the expert scientist here who literally wrote the book on mine reclamation and closure. We have persuaded him to lead this very first trip. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce your field trip leader, the hookin’ bull, that Pro from Dover, Doctor Rocknocker. Rock?”
I flip open the curtain and walk out I front of the forum.
There are several audible gasps. No applause, mind you, but gasps a-plenty.
I have a lit cigar in one hand, and a mug of what they probably thought was coffee in the other.
I’m wearing my usual field garb: Vasque Trakker field boots, freshly oiled; Scotch woolen tall-socks, cargo shorts, a really, really ghastly neon-colored Hawaiian shirt, an ‘All my faults are normal’ T-shirt, my well-aged field vest, a monogrammed Bureau field towel around my neck, and my ubiquitous black Stetson.
I have my soft-rock Estwing hammer on one hip, the .454 pistol on the other. I’m also wearing a sheath knife I recently acquired right here in Nevada, a NORM badge, an Altair^® 4XR Multigas Detector, and several other odds and bods hanging from the hooks on my vest. I also have several fresh Cohibas in one of my vest pockets.
The silence in the room was palpable.
“Goooood morning, Reno!” I shout, in my best Robin Williams imitation.
Utter fucking silence.
“Hmm…tough room,” I snark. “OK, so it’s going to be like that, ‘eh?” I ask.
Total quietness.
“OK,” I say, “Enough with the introductions. As you know, I am Dr. Rocknocker, although I prefer to travel under the name of ‘Rock’, as I’m not one for standing on tradition. I will be your field leader on this glorious desert excursion. We will be visiting a selection of different types and classes of mines, study them, then absolutely destroy them. Although I’m certain that this part is nothing new.”
I wait a tick, take a drag off my cigar, and sip my Greenland coffee.
“Ahhh! Lovely.”
No response.
“OK,” I say, “I can see by your collective enthusiasm that you’re just raring to get out in the desert and blow up some shit.”
There were a couple of gasps. At least they’re not all dead, as I had feared. I just noticed a few female forms flitting around the forum.
“Right,” I continue, “I may not be the best judge of human character, but I think I’m detecting a certain amount of trepidation from the gathered crowd.”
There are several murmurs, but no one volunteers anything.
“Right,” I carry on, “Let me lay this out right here before we even start. This is not a holiday. This is not a pleasure trip. This is a working, learning, operational, primarily geological scientific expedition. We will be in the desert for fourteen days, non-stop. If there’s any injuries or deaths, the unfortunate soul or souls will be air-lifted out by Nevada State Highway Patrol rescue or recovery chopper. You have signed on for the duration. We’ll have no ‘days-off’, or ‘late mornings’, nor ‘early evenings’. We have exactly 336 hours together and intend to squeeze every ounce of science out myself, my vehicles, my operational gear, , and my colleagues. That’s you if you missed the phrase shift.”
Still nothing but a slight crowd buzz.
“OK, time to shake up the audience.” I muse.
“Here’s the deal, guys, and gals,” I say, “I’ve been dragged out here against my better wishes; but I’m an unrepentant mercenary, so there you go. Once this is over, I’ll be headed to the Middle East. So, it’s my last field trip out here for a while, but it’s not my final hurrah. With that, as Dr. Muleshoe noted, I’m the hookin’ bull here. For those of you unfamiliar with the expression, that means I’M THE BOSS! What I says, goes. No arguments, no discussion, no parlay. We’re going to be dealing with nearly a ton of very twitchy, very tetchy, very high explosives. I’m the only one educated, experienced and above all, licensed for their use and operation. Do you think you know better than I do? Dandy. Keep it to yourself until a later time. Failure to do so will result in expulsion. No arguments, not fond farewells. You are out on your happy ass!”
Now the crowd is really buzzing loudly.
“Are we green, people?” I ask very loudly.
I am greeted by almost 2 dozen blank stares.
“’ Are we green?’ means ‘Are we in agreement?’,” I explain.
Still nothing.
“Yeah,” I sigh, “So it’s going to be like that, is it? You people can speak, can’t you? Forget it, I was being rhetorical and unpleasant. Anyways, let me take this twisty can of snakes and lay it out nice and straight for you. If you are offended by ‘colorful metaphors’, or outright swearing, well, you’re gonna have a bad day or 14. I’m the one running this show. I’m an unapologetic field geologist, among other things. I smoke. I drink. I swear. I stink. And I get shit done. Done right, safe, and proper. On-time, and under budget. Probably non-ecofriendly, as well. If anyone here objects to anything I’ve said so far, well, U-turn 180⁰ and there’s the exit door.”
I wait exactly long enough to sip some coffee and puff on my cigar.
Continuing: “We’re all here to do a job, and learn something in the process. I’m here to teach and watch over you, to make sure you return home a reasonable facsimile of what left home. I’m not here to coddle, indulge, or hold hands. I’m here to instruct you in the modes and methods of safe mine inspection, abandonment, and closure. You’re going to get filthy, experience hardship, travails, massive explosions, and claustrophobic quarters. It’s my job to guide you through all this safely. So, you do what I say, when I say it and you don’t give me any cheek in the process. Are we green?”
“…green…,” comes the wan reply.
“I can’t hear you!,” I yell.
“GREEN!” comes the reply.
“That‘s better,” I say, “Next time, I best hear everyone in this room chime in. Any questions so far?”
“Yes!” a hand goes up.
“Finally!,” I remark, “Yes?”
“Will there be showers available?” came the question.
“Oh, absolutely,” I remark, “Right before we leave and right when we return. Any other questions?”
‘Yeth!” I hear.
“You, in the shiny yellow suit. Yes?” I ask.
“I most strongly object to your gun!” he says, “I’m not going anywhere with someone carrying a gun.”
“OK, fair enough.” I say, “The exit’s right there behind you.”
“My university paid for this trip, and I’m not going until you remove your gun!” he crows.
“OK,” I say, as I skin my smoke wagon and hold it up for all to see.
“Listen up, you primitive screwheads. This is my BOOMSTICK!” I thunder to many ashen faces.
“GASP!”
Yessiree, Bob,” I say, “I’ve carried one just like this on six continents when I was in the field. Why? Because it’s a fucking tool. Just like a hammer’s a tool. Just like a compass is a tool. Just like a galvanometer is a tool. Just like 50 pounds of Torpex high-explosives are a tool. What do you have against tools, sir? Are you a closet anti-toolist?”
“Guns are evil,” he whines.
“Guns are inanimate objects, sir.” I reply, “You have the same senseless reservations about my Estwing rock pick? I could swing it soundly and kill with it as well.”
“Of course not,” he replies haughtily.
“Why not?” I ask, “It’s evil when it’s used to kill. Otherwise, when used properly, it’s a very, very functional tool.”
“Just like your gun?” he asks sarcastically.
“Fuckin’-A, Buckwheat.” I reply, “Exactly like that. It’s a signaling device. It’s a safety device. It’s great for running off predators and rousting single-minded snakes and scorpions. Only in the hands of a madman is it dangerous. You consider me a madman?”
Silence.
“You knew who was running this show,” I remarked, “when you received the announcement. It’s no fault of my own you failed in your preparations and didn’t read the copy for content. It’s a well-known fact, as published in many, many geology, geochemistry, gemology, mining, oil & gas, and paleontology periodicals; who I am, what I do, and how I do it. Your failure to prepare does not constitute an emergency on my part. The gun stays. Period.”
Muttering.
“Any other questions?” I ask.
“Yes!”
“Please, by all means, that’s why I’m here.” I relate.
“Can we just get on the road? We’re burning daylight, Rock. Time to hit the dusty trail.” I’m told.
“OK, how do I know this person?” I wonder.
“Quite right.,” I reply. “If there are no more questions…tic…tic…tic…OK, let’s meet in the back lot. Quit yer grinnin’ and drop yer’ linen, we’re outta here!”
I puff my cigar, slurp some coffee, pat Sam, who has his face buried in his hands, on the back, and walk out to the parking lot.
Ok, point of parliamentary procedure. I’m not going to type each of these goombah’s names every time we have an interaction. Since there are 15 of these characters, I will be referring to them in the narrative as ‘Dr. A’, ‘Dr. B’, ‘Dr. C’, and so on through ‘Dr. O’.
Out in the lot, everyone’s milling around like some sort of cadet review.
Andy the mechanic hands me a megaphone. Remind me to be nice to him someday.
“OK people, listen up!,” I holler, “You all have the field project’s map. Let’s all look on the map and find ‘Stop #1’. OK?”
Mutter, mutter, mutter.
“OK,” I continue, “So far, so good. Got that? Stop #1? Good. Saddle up and hit the sandy trail! See you there in three hours. Adios!”
It’s actually an easy, well-marked, leisurely 1.5-hour jaunt to the first mine, the defunct Sharp Curve gold and silver mine.
The Sharp Curve Mine is situated around the periphery of the Bone Mountain and Weepee igneous plutons which intrude Precambrian to Late Cambrian clastic and carbonate sediments. The Precambrian units consist of the Wyknot Formation, a quartzitic siltstone and sandy limestone interbedded with limestone and dolomite, and the massive Peed Creek Dolomite. Overlying the sediments are the allochthonous Cambrian Sheep Springs, Caminillo Brillo, Polenta, and Farkless Formations. Small, random roof pendants of Wyknot Formation are scattered over the surface of Bone Mountain. The sediments are metamorphosed to hornfels, phyllite, schist, marble, and other metamorphic rocks along the contact with the plutons.
After the intrusion of the dikes, late-stage hydrothermal fissure quartz veins, lenses, and irregular masses were emplaced in the metasediments and igneous masses along fault and shear zones, forming prominent outcrops in the central and southern part of the district. Locally, the quartz veins are crushed and cemented with hematite-stained silica. The intrusion of the Bone Mountain granite domed the bedded sediments into an anticline or dome structure which subsequently eroded to its present form. The metasediments are draped around the pluton with the remnant limbs dipping away from Bone Mountain on three sides. These anticlinal structures exhibit broad, complex, and side-by-each en echelon folds; minor thrusts; flexures and high angle faults of small displacement.
To be continued.

DEMOLITION DAYS, PART 81

Continuing
Chuck and Al looked ready to go.
“Who wants to go first?” I ask.
“How do I light the damn thing?” Al asks.
“Got one of my cigars?” I replied.
Al went first, giddy as a schoolboy. We had already ascertained that there was no one in the area, so we did the run through the safety protocol only once.
Al lit his stick and lobbed it in.
He hauled ass back to our safety muster point.
I puffed on my cigar. And puffed a smidgen pointedly.
“Al, we have 5 minutes, you know,” I said. “No need to run, remember?”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Al replied breathlessly, “But this is a first for me. Forget walking, I ran like a goddamned bastard, pardon my French.”
I just shook my head and smiled. He’d do fine next time.
We’d feel tremors in mere minutes.
KABLAM!
The dynamite detonated. We waited a few minutes before we checked out our handiwork.
“OK, better. Going to need a few more.” I said, “Chuck, save us some time, let’s do two at once, OK?”
“Gotcha, Doc,” he said. He wandered over to the shaft and twisted the fuses together. He lit them up and tossed them into the waiting maw of the shaft.
He cautiously walked back, just like I had said.
KABLAM-BLAM!
Both sticks went off within seconds of the other. Similar results, though.
We were getting there, closer, but no cigar as it were.
“OK,” I said, “My turn.”
I took one stick, lit it and tossed it right under the old headframe. There was a lot of loose rubble there. I hoped to move enough, but leave a sufficient quantity to support the old structure.
KERBLAMMO!
The stick went off and started a minor avalanche. It was a tense few moments, but the old headframe stood firm.
“Damn. So close,” I said after examining the hole.
“Doc, how about this?” Al asked, “Chuck and I punch these sticks into the soil below the top of the crater. Confining the blast, as you well know, will focus more energy. More energy, more alluvium moved, more hole filled.”
“Make it so, gentlemen,” I said.
Chuck and Al cautiously placed the charges, gave each other the high sign before lighting their sticks, and cautiously got back out of the crater and walked back to our muster area.
Five minutes later, showers of earth erupted from opposite sides of the crater. Mini-avalanches of loose alluvium poured down. The main shaft was well and truly finally sealed.
“Gentlemen! Success! Couldn’t be better! I congratulate you on a job well done.” I said.
High fives all around we checked over our handicraft once again, found it good, and retired back to camp.
With that final mine, the first part of the field season was over. Now, all we had to do was return to Reno and after resupplying and recommissioning, start the fuck all over again.
The party around the campfire that night was especially festive.
After a quick breakfast of French toast, Greek blintzes, and Danish pastries, with Colombian coffee, we broke camp for the final time this season. We were tired, filthy, and had accomplished near 200% of our stated objectives.
It was a good time to be out in the field.
Besides, my trailer was damn near empty. We had to get back to ‘civilization’ and restock our weapons of mass destruction.
“See y’all in Reno!” I said, as I dropped my truck into first gear and spun out onto the intershire turnpath we had recently blazed.
They passed me a mile or so after we hit the tarmac. We’d met soon at the Bureau parking lot soon enough in Reno.
Later, we’re all in Dr. Sam Muleshoe’s office, puffing away on my cigars.
A care package had arrived from Esme during our field time.
In it were a shopping list, four boxes of cigars, a tin of her famous rum balls, and a personal note.
I stashed the note and shopping list in my grubby field vest and helped myself to another dram or six of Dr. Muleshoe’s private top-shelf bourbon stock.
Everyone was scarfing up Esme’s cookies like they were manna from heaven.
They were ambrosial.
I had already spoken with Sam previously. He had plowed the field and straightened the path forward for Chuck and Al to stay on another month. He even wrangled us all a raise, and not inconsiderable bonus, based on our recent past accomplishments.
Leonard hadn’t shown yet. But, we needed some downtime to restock and resupply. He’d be here directly, so Sam told us that we all have room reservations for a night or two at a local motel, courtesy of the Bureau.
He also told us to avail ourselves of the motel’s room service, which was served by most of the finer restaurants in town.
Chuck and Al were already arguing over their pizza toppings.
He also told us to get some rest, finish up our first season field reports, do some laundry, and please, take a fucking shower.
“You characters smell of cordite and way too much excitement.” He laughed.
The motel would handle our laundry requirements, as we decided to drink up Sam’s private stock and sashay on over to the motel.
He also told us to leave our vehicles, keys, and other necessary equipment. He told us that he’d lock our sidearms in his office safe as that way they’d be secure, we wouldn’t scare the locals, and he didn’t feel like he was having a parlay with a band of armed pirates.
I asked him to send someone over to the local gun shop and pick us up a few boxes of .454 and 10mm loads. We had no wheels, so someone else could stickhandle that little requirement.
He agreed and told us the best liquor store in town was just three doors down from the motel.
“But Dr. Rock here already knew that, didn’t you?” Sam chuckled.
I could neither confirm nor deny that I was, in fact, cognizant of that little detail.
The Bureau had my explosives shopping list. Sam was a little taken aback, but when he saw the inch-thick pile of federally mandated paperwork I had amassed regarding the explosives on our first field tour, he said nothing more, other than noting that what I asked for would be arranged.
“Oh, and a box or two of millisecond-delay caps,” I said, “Forgot those last time.”
He also told us he’d have the Bureau’s mechanics give our vehicles the once over. After a hard month off-road, they’d check every nut, bolt, and screw. I was terribly relieved as I was almost out of blinker light fluid.
He also said they go over all our mine-entry gear. Check and if needed, replace the batteries, supplant any consumables, check our climbing gear to make certain it was in apple-pie order.
“Don’t forget, we’ll need an entire extra set for Leonard if he ever gets here. “ I reminded him.
“Already in the works,” Sam assured me.
“Well then,” I said, standing up, “Gentlemen, the laundry, lunch, ablution, and drinking lights are all lit.”
We all shook hands with a head-shaking Sam.
“Field geologists. Gad.” He exclaimed as we egressed his office.
The motel was small, tidy, and very comfortable. It had laundry facilities which we overwhelmed almost immediately. They had to farm out part of the job to get it back to us in time.
Chuck and Al ordered their pizzas and I fired up a heater, grabbed the phone, and called Esme.
Esme was very glad to hear from me. Everything back home was just hunky-dory, but the guys over in the Middle East were champing at the bit for my acceptance of their offer and our timetable.
“Jack my offer by 20%, and tell them I’ll decide when and if we’ll come over,” I told Es, “Let them chew on that for a while.”
“OK, Rock,” she agreed, “But that’ll only keep them busy for a month at most.”
“I know,” I replied, “But I’ll be back home soon after that. Then we can sit down and hash all this out.”
“OK, will do, Hon,” she said.
We talked for over an hour. Khris was in her first dressage competition right after I return and Tash was doing great in her new school. Lady was all pouty as I wasn’t around to take her walkies every night and the cat was still stupid.
So, the situation was normal. We chatted some more and after our usual parting smooches, we disconnected.
Chuck and Al had their own rooms, so the smell of fresh pizza was intoxicating. I still had to make some calls before I could think about dinner.
I talked with Dr. Harry in Albuquerque. Evidently news travels fast. He’s already heard glowing reports on us from the Reno bureau.
I called Rack and Ruin. They already had our reports from Reno and Albuquerque.
Why do I even bother updating these guys?
A few personal calls later, I decided that Chinese food was just what the doctor ordered.
And he did.
After delivery, I shuffled down to the liquor store, now flush with new Bureau greenery, and bought a few or nine fine bottles of Kentucky Sour Mash, a couple of cases of Russian Import vodka, six cases of beer, and a few surprises for later. They had no Nehi, the slackers, so I settled on some generic, and cheap, oddly flavored sodas; just a couple of cases.
They would deliver it all, except for the extra bottle of vodka I was taking with me, to the Bureau tomorrow if I desired.
“Nah. I’ll drop by before we leave,” I told them. That might be pushing it, I thought.
I wandered back to my room and poured myself a large dram or dozen over ice. Feet up, I lit a cigar, and just zoned out the window for a while.
A short while, it turned out.
There was a knock on the door. I answered it. It was Al and Chuck.
They both sported a month’s growth of razor-cut beards and mustaches, ghastly Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, tall woolen socks, and field boots.
“It’s what the well-dressed manic is wearing in the field these days,” they laughed.
Shaking my head, I told them to get in here before the guys with the butterfly nets saw them.
The brought me some leftover pizza, but after seeing I still had some leftover Chinese chow, they made it disappear themselves.
“Well,” I rejoined, “Looks like the Rover Boys are ready for another field season.”
“Ready to ride the range, once again, with the infamous Doctor Rock!,” Chuck laughed and snagged one of my Esme-sent cigars.
“My, oh my,” he said, giving it a sniff, “These are really nice.”
“Don’t get used to it” I said.
They both laughed at the absurdity of that statement.
“Where the hell’s your pipe?”
“What pipe?” he innocently asked.
Oh, bother.
I pour another tall tot and told the guys that this was serious time.
“Yes, Doc?” they asked.
“This new guy. Leonard.” I said, “Colorado School of Mines. I’ve read his transcripts and CV. Good, but not great. Not too many diverse electives; looks like he likes to play it safe.”
“Holy fuck,” Al laughed, “Is he coming to the wrong place…”
“My thoughts exactly,” I concurred. “I need you guys to help me out here. You two nutburgers were bad enough, but you’re at least real geologists. This guy’s a bloody engineer. You know how engineers and geologists get along.”
“Like you at an AA meeting,” Chuck laughs.
“Oh? What’s that you’re leaning on?,” I say, pointing to his glass full of my ice and spirits.
“OK, OK. Like you at an Earth! First meeting,” he corrects himself.
“Much better,” I concurred, and raise my glass in the time-honored Midwestern salute.
“So,” I continued, “I want you to run interference. I’m not judging this guy out of camp or sight unseen, but help him out. Show him the ropes. I can scarcely hope a mere engineer can pick up on things as readily as you two real geologists. We green?”
“Green as new-mown grass, Doc.” They reply.
“Thanks,” I say, “I knew I could depend on you two. Now, BE GONE! I need my ablutions and some kip. I suggest you two do likewise.”
“We already showered,” Al said, “But you’re nose-blind. You do really need a shower.”
“Nope,” I said, “A cigar, a tall drink, a good mining magazine, and a tub full of bubbles. It’s the little things in life, you’ll come to realize…”
I shoo them out into the night. I draw the curtain, remembering Myanmar, get au naturel, draw a tub, and float away in a sea of foam.
The next day, we’re all in Dr. Sam Muleshoe’s office. I’m sitting there with my feet up on his desk and everyone’s smoking one of my cigars. According to Sam, the new guy, Leonard, will arrive precisely at 0900.
He had 5 minutes.
Spot on 0900, Leonard arrives.
“Good morning,” he says, “I was told this was Dr. Muleshoe’s office. I’m supposed to meet my field crew here.”
“My field crew?” I thought.
Sam puts down his cigar as Leonard makes silly little fake coughing noises. Sam rises and greets Leonard.
“Welcome to Reno, Mr. Paskapää. I’m Dr. Sam Muleshoe. This is my shop.”
Leonard extends a hand cautiously and he and Sam shake, shakily.
“Doctor Muleshoe,” Leonard intones and nods.
Sam continues the introductions.
“This stalwart chap is Albert W. Armstrong, of Rolla. He’s a mining geologist.”
Al gets up to shake Leonard’s hand.
“Call me Al,” he says, brightly.
“Hello, Albert.,” Leonard says glacially.
“This one here is Charles F. Glaciisto out of New Mexico. Also a mining geologist.”
“Please to meet you. Call me Chuck,” Chuck says.
“Pleased to meet you, Charles,” Leonard replies coldly.
“And this over here is the redoubtable Doctor Rocknocker; the hookin’ bull, the leader of the pack, as it were.,” Sam says enthusiastically, “Rock, get off your duff and greet your new field associate.”
I have been listening intently and didn’t much care for what I have heard so far from our newest field partner.
I shove my cigar between my teeth, stand up, looming over our newest addition. I adjust my Stetson and just stand there for a moment, giving him the once over.
I stick out my hand and say: “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Like Sam here says, I’m the hookin’ bull around here. I’ll be your boss out in the field. Listen closely to me and you might get out of this alive. Call me ‘Rock’”.
“Doctor Rocknocker,” Leonard replies glacially.
“Oh, yeah. This one’s going to fit in just fine,” I muse.
Sam’s secretary enters and asks if we’d like coffee or perhaps a doughnut. Leonard has to leave us for a while so he can fill out all his insurance and next of kin forms.
I have a feeling he might need it before the season is over.
“Sam…” I start off.
“Now, Rock, before you get your panties in a bunch,” Sam explains, “Leonard comes highly recommended. Dr. Abstoßen, his major professor at Mines couldn’t praise him enough. He really worked hard to get him this appointment.”
“Probably just to get rid of him for a while,” I reply, “Fer fuck’s sake, Sam. The guy’s wearing a fucking three-piece suit and leather Oxfords.”
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Sam remonstrates.
“He’d be a comic book,” I replied. “Chuck and Al. Oh, excuse moi, Charles and Albert here would be Compton’s Field Guide to Geology.”
Chuck and Al tried to stifle a chuckle, failing miserably.
“OK,” Sam says, “Point taken. But it’s just too late to do anything about it now. “
“Is it?” I ask, scowling. “I’ve already got two proven field hands right here in this very office.”
“Now, Rock,” Sam says, “Be fair. C’mon, give the guy a chance.”
“He probably doesn’t drink or smoke either,” I grouse, “Probably has a monogrammed silk goose-down sleeping bag and embroidered pillows.”
“Rock…,” Sam entreats, “Give him a chance. He doesn’t work out, OK, ship his happy ass back home.”
“Oh, I will, you can be assured of that,” I reply, “I only hope in one piece. We’re field geologists traveling the countryside blowing shit up. Not a good place to make stupid mistakes because you’re too good or high falutin’ to listen.”
“Rock,” Sam huffs, “Remember back a month and two characters who shall remain nameless?”
Al turns to Chuck, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Al Nameless.”
“Ditto” Chuck replies, “Chuck Nameless. Hey! We might be cousins.”
They laughed at their humor. San and I just winced and shook our heads.
Children.
“OK, Sam,” I consent, and point down to him, “He’ll get exactly the same chance I gave Charles and Albert here. We green?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Sam agrees, “We’re totally green. Green as a gaslight.”
“Guys,” I say, “Let’s go. Before I change my mind.”
“Rock?” Sam calls.
“Yeah?” I snap back.
“Want your sidearms?” he asks, smirking.
“Yeah,” I reply, “They might prove useful. OK, Sam, I’ll make nice. But he’s on thin ice already. He wants to play lumberjack, let’s see how he handles his end of the log.”
“All I can ask,” Sam says as he hands us back our firearms.
We all go out to the rear of the Bureau. There’s my truck. Holy wow. They even washed it.
Chuck and Al’s Land Cruiser is all saddled and bridled as well.
I instruct Chuck and Al to go over our equipment manifests. I have to go over the explosives inventory, check, re-check, and double-check that everything’s there, then sign my life away for it.
They start with my truck and I hear things like “We’re doomed, there’s no beer in Rock’s coolers.”
“Charles? Albert? I can hear you.” I warble.
The snickering still doesn’t stop.
We spend the better part of three hours going over everything. There’s a lot of gear that needs to be accounted for, especially with Master Leonard accompanying us this time around.
My explosives have all been delivered as per order. I’ve added a few new items based on past experiences. The trailer is full to the brim as is my strongbox in the back of the truck.
Chuck and Al report that we were missing a few items, but they’ve sourced them and we’re all up to snuff.
“Snuff?” I ask, “That reminds me. Thanks. I need some Red Man plug.”
Chuck and Al look at each other quizzically.
We all look over our equipment manifests. Everything that could be topped off has been.
Good. I was worried they might not have blinker light fluid this far out in the sticks.
We have four total sets of gear for entering the mines. All the monitors, ropes, carabiners, gas monitors, Self-Rescuers, SCBA packs, yadda, yadda…it’s a lot of kit.
I hope I still have room for my supplies from the store three doors down from the motel.
Then I remember that Chuck and Al have some room in their truck. Which, I now realize, will be for Leonard’s gear.
Speaking of which.
“Guys?,” I ask, “Anyone seen Leonard?”
“Not since Sam’s office” they reply.
“Fuckbuckets. How long does it take to sign a few forms? I wonder aloud.
I go back into the Bureau and there sits Leonard, on a bench outside of Sam’s office.
“So, Leonard,” I ask, “Everything OK. All systems go?”
“I was ready two hours ago,” he replies, “I was told someone would come for me.”
“And you never thought to ask Dr. Sam or his secretary or the janitor…?” I asked bellicosely.
“I was told someone would come for me,” he repeats.
“Well,” I snort, “That someone is me. Grab your gear and meet in the back lot in 2 minutes.”
I turn and leave before I stuff the arrogant little prick into a rubbish bin.
Out back, I come stomping up to Al and Chuck.
“Guys,” I say, “This little fucker is some piece of work. He’s been waiting outside Sam’s office for 2 hours because he was told ‘someone would come for him’.”
“Ohhh….” Chuck replies, “Not a good first step.”
“Ya’ think?” I ask, “Right now, I’m thinking parcel post. What do you think it’d cost to ship him back to Colorado fourth-class?”
Right then, Leonard arrives from around the side of the building and condescendingly says “I could use some help here with my luggage.”
I just walk over to my truck and swear.
Chuck and Al go over and help Leonard relocate his six-piece matched leather luggage set.
“You have got to be fucking with me.,” I say, as I stare and swear at the spectacle.
“Leo?,” I ask, “What’s all this? Packing for a tropical holiday?”
He visibly bristles that I’ve called him Leo, so at least I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.
“This is everything I require,” he icily informs me, “for a month-long sojourn in the desert.”
“No shit?” I ask. “Well, here’s the deal, Scooter. You tell me what pieces of your mine keep-your-ass-alive gear you want us to leave behind so we can make room in the Land Cruiser for your matched set of luggage.”
He stands there and bristles.
“Show me to my vehicle,” he indignantly says, “I can make it fit.”
Chuck and Al point to the Land Cruiser.
“No. No. No.,” he replies, exasperated, “Where’s my vehicle? I assumed that I’d at least have one at my disposal.”
“OK, Leo, listen up,” I say, “You assumed wrong. You can ride with me here in my truck. No one else can drive my truck because of the trailer. Explosives, licenses, and all that stuff. Good luck fitting in all your gear, though.”
He looks at me like I just handed him a lightly grilled weasel with fries.
“Or you can ride with Chuck and/or Al.,” I said. “They have first dibs, but if either want to ride with me…”
“No offense, Rock,” Chuck says, “But Al and I have this truck all sussed out. We’d really rather not ride with you, if you don’t mind.”
“OK by me,” I say, “So, Leo, either upfront with me and my cigars, or back seat duty with Albert and Charles.”
Leonard huffs like this is the greatest affront he’s had to deal with since Grandmama overcooked his morning 3-minute egg.
Leonard just stands there, fuming.
I don’t give a shit. We have field transportation. I’m not requisitioning another field vehicle for this skeezer. Either he loads up or we leave his ass.
His choice.
“Which is it, mister?” I said, “I don’t have time to waste here while you weigh the pros and cons of where you’re going to park your ass.”
If looks could have killed, I would have gone home in a butt can.
“OK, so not with me? Cool.” I say.
“Assholes and elbows, gentlemen,” I yell, “I’m off to the grocery store after I make one stop. See you all there.”
I get into my truck, fire up a cigar, drop her into gear, and am off to the liquor store for my pick-up.
Later, at the grocery store, I run into Chuck and Al. Evidently Leonard decided against this whole idea or he culled all his crap and stuffed it into their Land Cruiser.
Actually neither.
Chuck and Al are laughing hard that Leonard is currently bungee-ing down his all leather six-piece matched set of luggage to the baggage rack on the top of the guy’s Land Cruiser.
“No shit?,” I asked. “I wonder in which one he packed his cashmere pup tent.”
We all share a chuckle as Leonard rounds the corner.
“Well, welcome aboard, Leo,” I say, “Chuck and Al have our shopping list from our last excursion. Check it to see if there’s anything you absolutely can’t have; that is, not just dislike. This isn’t a gourmand outing. If there’s something you absolutely cannot exist without, we’ll see if we can make room for it.”
Leonard stands there, fuming.
“Oh, and the restrooms here are clean,” I note, “You might want to shed those duds and get into your field gear. Next stop: the great outdoors.”
Addressing Chuck and Al, “Let me know before you head out. We need to compare notes.”
They agree and head off to the deli while Leo stands there, looking forlorn.
“You might want to catch up with them,” I note, “They have some eclectic tastes.”
I wander off to find some Red Man Plug.
Back in the parking lot, I futz around the back of my truck. Beer into the coolers, followed by ice. Booze into the coolers, insulated with foam padding to protect against hard knocks, followed by ice.
I shift this, re-arrange that, tie down a few other things.
I can see Chuck, Al, and now Leonard’s, Land Cruiser. It looks very tall and very silly with all that luggage.
Evidently Leonard is ignoring my advice in fashion.
“Oh, well,” I remark, “He’s a big boy.”
I return to the cab of my truck. I load my Casull and shove it into my holster.
A box of cigars, a couple of my emergency flasks, spare lighters, flashlight, Thermal mug, maps, a binder full of mine schematics, and other necessities are already in residence on the next seat.
I check the radios; all functioning at 100%. I do a radio check with the Bureau, with our Land Cruiser, and everything is working A-OK.
I drag out the map and plot our next great adventure.
I scan the map and find mine I’d heard about from Sam. The Round Robin Mine was a particularly well-known party place for locals, and it was only 45 miles distant.
The Round Robin Mine was a gold mine, and an bloody old one.
Discovered in 1888, the Round Robin Mine has exploited the Cambrian Nogood Mountain Quartzite, Cambrian Prooble Formation, Ordovician “Comenow” Formation and the “upper plate” Barmy Formation. These units are unconformably overlain by the Permian Etaphart Formation (Gobbler’s Peak Equivalent) of the Bob’s Mountain Overlap assemblage, and by the Triassic Gotcha allochthon. These uppermost units form a belt of outcrops flanking the western and northern sides of the Nogood Range.
All of these units are intruded by two generations of felsic intrusive rocks – a set of 114 Ma dacite dikes and sills at Pyrite Ridge and Swine Creeks, the 92 Ma Nogood Stock and temporally related dikes and sills. To date, no Eocene intrusive rocks have been identified at the nearby Getchall, Swine Creeks, or Pension mines.
The Cambrian-Ordovician rocks were deposited on the platform and slope of the western margin of the North American Craton during the breakup of the Rodinia super-continent. The basal Nogood Quartzite and Prooble formation are generally regarded to represent sourcing from a continental landmass and consist of quartz arenite (Nogood), siltstone, and shale with subordinate carbonate lenses (Prooble). Carbonates of the Prooble were deposited in an open shelf or upper slope marine environment and have undergone minor re-working (winnowed oolitic and algal pellet limestones, fragmented trilobites).
Carbonates in the upper part of the Prooble formation are time equivalent to rocks described as “Comenow Formation” at Pension and Swine Creeks. The Ordovician Comenow Formation, as it is described in the deposits of the Gotcha Trend represents a significant departure from the continental derived clastic and argillaceous sediments of the Nogood and Prooble formations. The Comenow Formation in the footwall of the Gotcha Fault is characterized as thin to medium bedded carbonate turbidites, slumps, and debris flows with interlayered siliciclastic turbidites and argillaceous mudstone. The carbonate beds are interpreted to be derived from a carbonate sea, somewhere east of the Nogood Range. Algal pellets, fragmented coral, and crinoids have been observed as clasts in the carbonate debris flow conglomerates.
It’s a single level mine, trending generally north-south, along with loads of offshoot drifts east and west. It’s not terribly deep, although the main shaft slopes some 15^0. There’s loads of artifacts, but much of that has been removed by idiots that think old, unstable, abandoned mines make for great party places.
“Yeah,” I think, “This would be a good one for Mr. Leonard to cut his teeth on.”
Chuck and Al come over to my truck. They look exasperated.
“Yeah?,” I ask, “What’s up guys?”
Chuck wants to return my 10mm.
“I’m going to shoot him,” he says. “I’m just gonna shoot his ass.”
“Now, now,” I caution, wagging a finger, “Think of the paperwork.”
Al pipes in with “He’s a fucking prima-donna. Only organic eggs, no meat less than USDA Prime. Soy milk. Holy fuck, he probably wants whole-grain light beer.”
“Try and mollify the little twist,” I say, “Do what you can, within reason. No need to go crazy. We’ll try and adjust for his dietary proclivities, but either he eats what we put in front of him or he goes hungry. Simple as that.”
“Ah, Rock,” Chuck adds, “There’s one more thing. He either doesn’t or won’t cook.”
“OK, fine.,” I reply, “Gents, we now have a built-in dishwasher. Please use as many pots as possible.”
“Gotcha, Rock,” they agree.
Leonard’s still changing, evidently, in the restroom. I go over the itinerary for this first mine. They have the coordinates, so I’m headed out.
“See you there,” I said, “Hopefully, all three of you.”
I chuckle, realize that it really can’t be all that bad, fire up a heater, drop the truck into low gear, and head on down the highway.
“Pink Floyd,” I say as I jam in an 8-track of Piper at the Gates of Dawn, “Take me away…”
A little over an hour and a half later, I’m standing in front of the mine’s adit. It’s a big old gaping hole in the side of the mountain. Some 10 feet wide, but blocked by an iron caisson with a lockable door. The caisson and door had long been ripped down so local partiers and other douche-knuckles could assemble inside.
The crowning turd in this punchbowl was that all the recent fucking graffiti in the mine and even on the warning signs outside. Miner’s graffiti, particularly in old mines like this, can provide you all sorts of important information.
No longer.
All this graffiti is relatively new. And it obscures the historical stuff.
So much more the reason to shut this goddamned place down.
“I’m disgusted with my species sometimes,” I growl to the hawks and click beetles.
It’s getting on toward dusk.
I’ve got the campfire going, coffee brewing for anyone so taken, and the rotisserie set up so I can get this lovely bison flank roast going.
I also have a drink and a cigar. There’s a lantern set up on my truck.
Time continues to slip into the future.
I toss the foil-wrapped corn and camp taters in the fire and think about getting on the radio to see where Chuck, Al, and Leonard are.
Finally, I see a pair of headlights cutting through the very early evening gathering gloom.
The Land Cruiser brusquely skids to a halt some distance from my truck. Chuck and Al get out and head straight to the back of my truck and the coolers.
They each grab beers and a bottle of my best vodka.
“Uh, oh,” I think, “This first trip didn’t go so well?”
“Guys?,” I motion them over, “A conference?”
They stomp over, look to see Leonard fucking around with his luggage, and turn to me and snarl: “If you don’t kill him, I fucking well will!”
“Whoa, there buckaroos!,” I say, “Sit, partake, cool out, and tell kindly ol’ Doctor Rock all about it.”
“Rock,” Chuck tells me, “The guy’s a menace. Took him over an hour to change in the john at the grocery store. Then he had to fuck with his luggage. He had to repack his suit so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Then he insisted on the front seat. Hell, he even wanted to drive, although he’s never handled a four-wheeler off-road. And wait until you get a load of his field gear…”
Al nods in agreement and continues, “He’s telling us how everything is going to go now that he’s here. He’s from the Colorado School of Mines and an engineer as well, he brags. ‘He knows what’s best. He knows what to do.’ He knows jack shit!”
“Message received,” I say, “You work on your beers and watch dinner. I’ll go have a chat with our newest recruit.”
I wander over to the Land Cruiser with my cigar and drink.
“So, Leo,” I say, watching him stiffen, “Welcome to the first night out in our shared adventure.”
Leonard drops down from the roof and I see to what Chuck and Al were referring.
He’s wearing all light-tan, camel-colored clothes. Expedition shirt, Dockers shorts, tall black synthetic-material no-breathe socks, and some sort of bastard hybrid trainer-field shoe, part leather and part who the fuck knows what.
Plus he’s wearing a Pith Helmet, a fucking Pith Helmet, and has a tan, monogrammed towel wrapped around his neck.
It was all I could do to keep myself from laughing in his face.
To be continued.

A Wild One Year of Sports Betting (A Memoir)

Parlay vs. Round Robin

UFC 238: Cejudo vs Moraes. Chicago, IL

WEEKLY EVENTS 7/27 – 8/2

It’s hot, so do inside things. Like these things right here.
MONDAY 7/27

The Bookshelf: “Join Bookshelf manager Rebekah for our Forever Young Adult book club (for readers old and young alike!). July's pick is Andrew Smith's GRASSHOPPER JUNGLE. See you there!” 6pm
Midtown Speakeasy: Bar Trivia With Hank. You should come to this. It’s fun, the crowd is very small, and the beer is cheap. 8:30pm/21+
Finnegan's Wake Irish Pub: Scotch and Cigars Happy Hour for National Scotch Day. 5pm/21+
GrassLands Brewery: Green Drinks with Sustainable Tallahassee. “Everybody eats! How we benefit by keeping it local” by Michelle Gomez. There is a growing movement that encourages us to take a closer look at where our food comes from, what goes into it and what comes out. This interactive presentation informs the decision to eat and grow food locally, explaining the opportunities we have to improve and sustain our personal, environmental and economic vitality.” 5:30pm/21+
Carolina House: Human Bodies (Ma), Webcam Teens (Last Show), Atrocitus (Last Show), Violently High. 8pm/$5/all ages
Adversity Vapes New Brew Mixery: Old Wounds/Head Creeps/culture killemind melt / burnout. 8pm/$10

TUESDAY 7/28

Pockets Pool: Karaoke with Dwight. 10pm/21+
Krewe de Gras: Karaoke With Pete. 9pm
Fourth Quarter: Trivia With Professor Jim. AUCE wings. 8pm
What? Café: Something Awesome Knit and Crochet Group. All are welcome. 6:30pm
The Grain: Open Mic, all are welcome. 9pm
The Tin Cow: Karaoke with Roger. 9pm
Madison Social: Trivia Social. 7pm
Gadsden County Public Library (Quincy): 'Merry Adventures of Robin Hood', a classic tale created especially for children will be performed by Master Puppeteer Jerry Bickel with the Bits ‘N Pieces Marionettes. 6:30pm
Bread and Roses: Harry & The Potters, Soft Dom, Yikes, Lingua Franca. Also, Diagon Tally Quidditch Club (DTQC) is an up and coming quidditch team in Tallahassee, Florida. All players of all skill levels are welcome. No experience necessary! They will be competing in the 2015 season as an official USQ team. They will be tabling at this show to spread the word about upcoming matches and to recruit new members! 7:30pm/$7, $5 if you wear a costume, FREE ENTRY for anyone with a middle school or high school ID or Going Places event pass/all ages

WEDNESDAY 7/29

Fire Betty’s Arcade Bar: Bar Trivia With Hank followed by the Righteous 80s Dance Party. 7 pm/free
Proof in Railroad Sq: Bar Trivia With Hank. Out of the sun and into the summer evening. 9:30pm/21+/no cover
Fermentation Lounge: Quizmaster General Knowledge Trivia. 7pm
Miller’s Ale House: Trivia Night. 8pm
Down Below (Under Barnacle Bill’s): Karaoke with Nathan. 10pm
Brass Tap on Gaines: Trivia. 7pm
Bird’s: Comedy Night. 9:30pm/free
Hurricane Grill & Wings: Trivia With Greg. 7pm
Just One More: Karaoke with Roger. 9pm
Crum Box Gastgarden: Tallahassee Wants Bernie July 29th Meetup. “As requested by the national campaign, Tallahassee Wants Bernie will be hosting an event on the 29th to support Bernie Sanders for President in 2016.” 7pm
Liberty Bar: Thursday Throwdown: A Night of Rock, Blues, Funk and Soul with Cooter Brown. 10pm/$3/21+
Pug’s Live: THE HELLZAPOPPIN' CIRCUS SIDESHOW w/ The Shaken Not Stirred Burlesque. 8:30pm/$13

THURSDAY 7/30

Gaines Street Pies, now in the new building a block down Gaines toward the Stadium in the Garages on Gaines: Bar Trivia With Hank. Win a delicious 18” pizza! Twice the space and a full liquor ball! 9pm
Birds: Karaoke Hosted By Jumpin Jams. 10pm
Down Below (Under Barnacle Bill’s): Karaoke with Nathan. 10pm
Lake Ella Area: Food Truck Thursday with Bo Hogg Root. 6pm
Side Bar: CAPTAIN GREEN w/ Sway Jah Vu + Wolf & Witness. 9pm/$7
Madison Social: Water Balloon Dodgeball Social (Getting Wet for Charity). Water Balloon Dodgeball Social benefitting The Arts & Athletics Camp. What you need: A team of 4 people and clothes you do not mind getting wet in. Where you need to register: It is $10 per team ($2.50 per person) and head here: http://madisonsocial.com/water-balloon-dodgeball-social. What you win: Each person on the winning team wins $20 Madison Social gift card. 6pm
Pug’s Live: Benefit Show for The Front Porch Library with Cutting Teeth (covering Modern Baseball), Attack on Tortuga (Weezer), States Avenue (Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties) & The Coma Kids (Brand New). “The Front Porch Library is an all-volunteer children’s neighborhood lending library that gets books into the hands of kids to promote literacy, community, cultural enrichment, and fun. Go to http://thefrontporchlibrary.com/ for more info and to donate!” This is a covers show. 9pm/$5 over 21, $7 under 21/all ages
The Grain By Fermentation: The Zac Bartholomew Trio (Farewell Show). 8pm

FRIDAY 7/31

Down Below (Under Barnacle Bill’s): Karaoke with DJ Scott Long. 10pm
Stetsons @ The Moon: Karaoke with Johnny Ray. 10pm/$5/18+
Casa Grande: Karaoke with Nathan. Best legit song selection in town. 8pm
Parlay Sports Bar: Karaoke with Big Bob. 8pm
Just One More: Karaoke with Roger. 9pm
All Saints: ¡¡¡Yeehaw/Just Friends/Superhaunted/Echo Base/Lingua Franca/!!! 7:30pm/$5/all ages
Club Downunder: BBQ & Tie Dye. 6pm/GP $5/18+
Crowder Landing, Lake Jackson: Full "Blue" Moon Paddle. Join us for a guided, relaxed paddle around Lake Jackson under the full 'blue' moon. $40/person with own kayak.
Wakulla Springs Lodge: Bob Carey on Piano. “Last week we had a lot of fun guest performers at the grand piano in the lobby. Come on out and bring along your vocal chops, browse through my lyrics book, pick up one of my pass-around mics and sing your heart out, or just grab a stool and enjoy a fun filled evening of music and dancing. Full bar open til late.” 7pm
Skate World Center: Happy Birthday Harry Wizard Skate Party. “ATTENTION WIZARDS, WITCHES, SQUIBBS, AND MUGGLES OF ALL AGES! Enjoy a night of music from the films, wizard rock, & top muggle pop songs...Costume contest with awesome themed prizes...Free raffle...And lots of themed accessories for sale. Bring the entire family to this special "Happy Birthday Harry" inspired event. You don't even have to skate! Be there or be a muggle! We'll have butter beer, chocolate frogs, wands, pygmy puffs, house scarves, jewelry, games, and a fully stocked candy trolley and photo booth with lots of props. Wizarding Spectators $5, Skating Admission $8, Skate Rental $2.50.” 7 – 11pm
Bradfordville Blues Club: Mem Shannon and The Membership. 8:30pm
HalfTime Pie Pub: Lesionread W/ See Saw, Logan Locking, And Yah Wave. 8pm
Pugs Live: SHAI HULUD w/ Forty Winters, A Dying Breed, Burn This Down & Dying Whale. 8pm/$14/all ages
The Junction At Monroe: Bo Hog Root. $10

SATURDAY 8/1

Animal Service Center. Me & My Best Friend Blood Drive! Donate blood and receive a "Golden Paw" ticket good for a fee waived adoption! Tickets are transferable. 10am-4pm
St. Mark’s Group Bike Ride. Going Places Street Outreach and CCYS's Transitional Living Program are inviting all our friends to join us on a group bicycle ride on The Historic St Marks trail. We will be meeting at the trail head by the Tallahassee Flea Market (address below) and riding it to the end. We will split up the 32 mile round trip up by stopping at some of the various parks and food spots along the way. Meeting time is set for 7:30am so we do some safety and supply checks and departure no later than 8am, so we can beat (some of) the heat.
Wacissa River and Slave Canal Paddle: A wilderness paddle on the Wacissa River and Slave Canal. Expect many pullovers and low trees on this float through this bottomland hardwood forest. LIMIT 15 CANOES/KAYAKS--TO SIGN UP contact Kent Wimmer (850) 528-5261. 9am
King Arthur’s Tools: Wooden Spoon Carving Class. “Learn spoon making from a master – Maverick Jaillet. Making spoons and other kitchen utensils is a great introduction to woodworking, as well as a new craft for seasoned woodworkers. Maverick will teach you shop safety, wood selection, carving techniques and sanding and finishing. We will apply a food safe finish to your creation, making it into a functional utensil and esthetically pleasing art piece that you will want to show all of your friends. All wood, tools and personal safety gear (ear and eye protection, gloves, dust masks) will be provided. Please wear shoes that cover the toes and bring a sack lunch. $100. EMAIL [email protected] TO REGISTER” 9am
Park at Monroe: The Downtown Marketplace. 9am-2pm
Corner of Georgia & Macomb: Frenchtown Farmers’ Market. “The Frenchtown Heritage Market offers a wide variety of fresh, naturally grown produce. Live music, cooking demos, fruits vegetables, and honey sold directly by farmers.” 9am – 1pm.
Birdsong: Take A Child Outside For A Natural Scavenger Hunt! Check here for details.
Leon County Humane Society. Kittyoga. Join the Leon County Humane Society & the talented instructors of Journeys In Yoga for a day of donation yoga classes with free-roaming adoptable kitties at the Leon County Humane Society! “Help local homeless pets with a suggested donation of $10 per class or supplies such as food, litter, flea prevention, etc. Adult cat adoption fees are waived during the event!” 10am – 4pm
Gamescape: Yu-Gi-Oh! Clash of Rebellions Sneak Peek. Registration starts at 10:00 am tournament starts at noon. Each participant receives: 5 Clash of Rebellions booster packs, 1 Sneak Peek promo, 1 Secrets of Eternity set checklist. Door Prizes, 2 Clash of Rebellions game mats are given away for every 16 players. Noon/$20 Entry
All Saints Cinema: A Midnight Clear “In the early phase of the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944, a small US Army intelligence and reconnaissance squad (selected for their high IQs), are sent to occupy a deserted chateau near the German lines to gather information on the enemy’s movements.” 7pm
Down Below (Under Barnacle Bills): Karaoke With Nathan. If you want to sing and drink cheap beer and liquor and not have to wait for huge crowds, this is your spot. 10pm
Wakulla Springs Lodge: Bob Carey on Piano. “Last week we had a lot of fun guest performers at the grand piano in the lobby. Come on out and bring along your vocal chops, browse through my lyrics book, pick up one of my pass-around mics and sing your heart out, or just grab a stool and enjoy a fun filled evening of music and dancing. Full bar open til late.” 7pm
Bird's Aphrodisiac Oyster Shack: Miami Connection (1987): A Trash Cinema Event! "The year is 1987. Motorcycle ninjas tighten their grip on Florida's narcotics trade, viciously annihilating anyone who dares move in on their turf. Multi-national martial arts rock band Dragon Sound have had enough, and embark on a roundhouse wreck-wave of crime-crushing justice. When not chasing beach bunnies or performing their hit song "Against the Ninja," Mark (tae kwon do masteinspirational speaker Y.K. Kim) and the boys are kicking and chopping at the drug world's smelliest underbelly. It'll take every ounce of their blood and courage, but Dragon Sound can't stop until they've completely destroyed the dealers, the drunk bikers, the kill-crazy ninjas, the middle-aged thugs, the "stupid cocaine"...and the entire MIAMI CONNECTION!!!" 9pm/free/18+
Theatre Tallahassee: 2014-2015 Awards & Volunteer Appreciation Ceremony. “We'll be taking a look back at the shows of the 2014-2015 Season and celebrating the performances, volunteers, casts and crews that made it possible! Dress is semi-formal/black-tie optional.” 7pm
All Saints: Davega Bike (Nashville), Soft Dom, DJ Deep Thought. 8pm/$5/all ages
Backwoods Bistro: Sway Jah Vu. 9pm
Hurricane Grill and Wings: The Falling Timbers Band. 6pm
Bradfordville Blues Club: Jeff Jensen. 8:30pm

SUNDAY 8/2

Animal Service Center. Me & My Best Friend Blood Drive! Donate blood and receive a "Golden Paw" ticket good for a fee waived adoption! Tickets are transferable. 10am-4pm
Sidecar: Bar Trivia With Hank. 6 rounds of facts and factoids. 7pm
Shell Point Beach: Shell Point Sail Board Club invites you to the 2015 Annual Rum & Root Beer. 2pm

Keep checking back, sometimes I update. Got anything to add?

round robin parlay explained video

A round robin (RR) is simply a nickname for a type of parlay wagering strategy. You take a group of three or more selections and put them in combinations of individual parlays. You could enter these parlays individually yourself, but a lot of sportsbooks allow you to select a round-robin option and do it automatically. Round Robin Betting Explained Commercial Content 21+ T&Cs Apply. A Round Robin bet is perhaps one of the most complex bet types out there. Essentially, Round Robin bets are a way to spread parlay bets out to minimize risk and maximize your odds of winning! A round robin bet is a series of parlay bets that contain every combination of teams in the parlay. Round robin bets must consist of at least three teams (or bets). The parlay can be broken up into individual parlays that include every team in your original parlay. A Round Robin Parlay is betting on a group of selections in a combination of Parlays. It’s comparable to a system bet. A four-team Round Robin Parlay (by twos) is asking for all combinations of doubles from the four selections. Note though that the more selections that are included, the more complex and difficult the bet is going to get. A Round Robin bet is an easy way to wager multiple parlays with a single bet. They make it easy for bettors to place parlays that consist of 3-8 lines and 2-6 teams. Bettors can cover their bases and wager all possible combinations by using a Round Robin and bet many parlays at once. The downside to these wagers is that gamblers bet too many legs ... A Round Robin bet is a simplistic and time-saving way of online betting multiple parlay all at one time. In Round Robin bets, a bettor can select between three and eight betting lines and the combine them into betting parlays of two to six teams.

Round Robin Bets Explained 🔄: The Conservative Parlay ...

round robin parlay explained

round robin parlay explained - win

Fairly new to sports betting, could someone help explain this round robin bet on bovada? What do the different parlays mean?

Round Robin