Marfa Adventure

(Johnny & Beverly's Limo)

Late one evening, outside a bar in a border town called Marfa, Texas, I started trailing the footsteps of an extremely come-hither pair of silver-tipped, stingray boots -- and met Johnny.

“These here, you see, are from a female stingray! Looka-here! That single stripe down the middle… that single stripe indicates it’s a female!”

I could only nod wishfully.

“How you know it is a male is because…” I didn’t catch the “male version” explanation because I wanted a “female” pair of stingray boots. It had been decided.

Everything about Johnny is loud. From his bright blue straw cowboy hat, his rail-thin/bean-pole stature, desert-creased face, to his piercing, blue eyes. Especially his local-flavor espousals.

“’Bout 20 years back I acquired my first pair of stingrays! Darn hide on the things was so thick that they had to grind ‘em down b’fore you could even slip ‘em on. They’ve got it all figured out now!”

As Johnny stuck his silvery-blue boot out, I caught a glimmer of his pointy silver boot tip, which had a small, decorative wagon wheel on the top. I wanted my own pair, right then -- and right down to the carved, silver wagon wheel affixed to the top of those outrageous silver boot tips.

A quick inquiry about where I could score my own set of boots led to a two-hour conversation inside Jett’s Bar & Grill, a part of the beautiful, historic El Paisano Hotel. In spite of the luxurious accommodations of the El Paisano, the overheard conversations at Jett’s bartop included comments about "the nitwit who had left somebody’s gate open," causing the cattle to stray (a cardinal cowboy sin), pesky burros and the fact that it has been such a dry season. So dry, in fact, that the scorpions have ticks on them. (grin)

Had I only known what I was in for, conversationally speaking, I would have put my prickly pear margarita down and ordered a glass of water.


“You folks been on the river, through the Mexican Canyons yet, ma’am?”

“Oh heck yeah, Johnny! The guides were just great. Helped us navigate upstream, catered us a nice lunch, and we drank amazing red wine before turning around! All the way up to Fern Canyon, yes we did!” On that note, I hoisted my margarita up. I’m sure I looked a bit like Sheriff Barney Fife, sniffing importantly and rocking up on my toes a bit.

“Naw-naw-naw!” Johnny is grinning at me something big. “Naw-naw-naw! I mean way down the river! With the locals!”

Johnny then explained to me that the same river that our group had been frolicking about in was an indigenous habitat for wild boa constrictors, who purportedly can reach a length of three or four meters-- ” (which I quickly converted into approximately 130 feet)
“-- and can get as big around as a coyote!”

Sweet Sainted Maria!

I could tell that Johnny was really digging my reaction to this, so he continues…

“Mexican fella’ once goaded me inta’ pokin' one once with a boat paddle! Thing straightened right out, unhinged its stinkin’ jaws and let out a mighty hissin’ roar. Scared the bejesus outta me! Sounded like a hurricane blowing out of the mouth of a cave there, you see?”

‘Really,’ I thought to myself, but tried to look nonplussed for Johnny. And then I remembered the harrowing experience that my husband and I had experienced a few nights prior. (I’ll explain more later.)

“Well, Johnny, I had a real angry evil spirit blow through my hotel room couple nights ago over in Lajitas.”

Johnny gave me a look and a small shrug that spoke volumes: They accept ghosts like gravity around there.

“Gracious me! Shizzle happens!” I felt like hollering out.



Balcony shot in Lajitas Graveyard pics in Teralingua, just downhill of the historic Starlight Cafe'

Johnny has never owned a television set in his entire life. Johnny has never even been enrolled in kindergarten. However, Johnny is one of the wisest, most mesmerizing fellows that I have ever met.

Johnny owns his own personal limousine. I found this out because, standing beside Johnny was an equally mesmerizing woman named Beverly, Johnny’s life partner. We can talk about Beverly’s yummy boots later.

“Except!” injects Beverly, “this limousine is special! Fella’ painted that limo’s dead now. Was a 90-yr-oldish cowboy-artist who made quite a name for himself. Mighty honored to have his art on our limousine!”

Excuse me while I make sweet love to this chicken fried steak…


El Paisano restaurant...

Dinner at the El Paisano restaurant is heavenly, and that is all you need to know. The menu includes offerings such as…. Cilantro Chicken, Rosemary Pork Tenderloin… and the opus magnum… Pistachio-Chicken Fried Steak.

Dilana, Becky and Linda, our entertainment captains of the evening, organized a hilarious Easter Egg Game. We each opened an egg, filled with an assortment of jelly beans, Bazooka Gum, flaming-hot Cheetos, with a phrase that we needed to add to the end of our fortune, “in bed.” This exercise ended in such Easter Egg fortunes such as… “How do I deal with the pain of hemorrhoids and chaffing -- in bed?”

Simply hilarious. You had to be there.

“Where you all headed after dinner?” Johnny wants to know.

“We’re going to ride our Harleys to the other end of town to see the Marfa lights.”

“Why on earth ya’ll gonna go do that for?”

Johnny and Beverly were wearing the expression of folks who had just got done shoveling dog turds.

“They’re everywhere!" Beverly consoled. "Just sit tight. You’ll see ‘em one day.”

Mention of heavy wind, full moon, and other sage Mexican lore regarding why we probably wouldn’t see the Marfa Lights tonight were factored around the table.

“Exactly!” I hollered out, shaking my finger toward the moon outside of the heavy plate glass bar window. But then my attention quickly strayed toward a very large cowboy hat hovering over the bar.

Hot-Dang! That's The Marfa Cowboy!








I shot around the dinner table and practically leaped up onto the back of a 6-foot-5ish cowboy named “Ty.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me! I’m a rancher here, by trade. Those people with the Marfa Film Festival just walked up to me one day in town and asked if I minded posin’ for their show poster.”

Immediately my leader, Theresa, starts prequalifying Ty’s authenticity with piercing questions such as… “How many acres? Parcels? Lots? Head of cattle?” leaving my woozy head spinning. I could care less about any of that business. Ty was a celebrity, dammit, and I’d found him! He was my special Easter Egg. I was swept up in all of his poster boy cowboyness.

I like Theresa a lot. She guzzles Diet Coke and talks freely about things that I haven’t even figured out yet. Obviously, I have a lot yet to learn from Theresa.

“Y’all goin’ on over to tha’ Laguna t’night?” Ty is smiling at our group and rubbing the small part of my back. I’m not sure if Ty knows that I am married, so I felt compelled to introduce my husband.

“The dance hall’s just up tha’ road! Two blocks down Austin, hang a right on San Antonio, just over the railroad tracks! Place is called The Laguna, but you’d never know it was a dance hall. Looks sorta like a morgue. Just go right on in.”

And just like that, The Marfa Cowboy faded into the sunset.

(to be continued…)







Fear and loathing in Marfa...