From this day forward this is where you will find the chronicles of Krantz. What, for real? The real Krantz’ chronicles? You bet ya! Life’s good. :o)
Saturday, 29th of November 2014.
The crapper conductor
We live in a world of simplifications. A Chev 57 = fifties happiness. A palm-tree = Florida. Yeah, but that also entails 24-hour travel time, ESTA, lost luggage, airport queuing, passport control interviews and ugly rentals from Japan. The palm-tree is the picture. That other stuff is the framework and the back.
Who cares about the backside?
– I do!
I shot a frame of the crapper conductor with the camera but it didn’t make it past the editor’s desk at the magazine I worked for at the time.
Hershey 2008.
The Afro American police officer, big as a bus shelter, was posted there again this year. He owned the crossing on Hersheypark Drive, blocked traffic in four lanes with the help of his shiny, black log of an arm and let the little girl skip across the road to the car show. In one hand she held her father’s hand and in the other one a blue Skittles candy tower with a battery driven fan that was in high-gear. It all was so beautiful, sending chills along the back of this car enthusiast before he even entered Hershey.
I lost my way in the chocolate batter. Hershey car show stretches over several fields where The Chocolate Field is one of them. Boots is outstanding in the front seat, handsome in short distances, super cool during 350 yards and very masculine on 30,000 feet. Above that, boots are real Predators. You easily walk 6 miles at Hersey in constant turns, stops, back step and starts.
– Predators, but you wouldn’t catch me dead in a pair of sneakers, sandals, slippers (chills) or anything else that can leak testosterone out of the finish line of the male body.
However, after six hours of sauntering and consuming of soda, chips, hamburger, turkey club, M&M’s, ice cream, pulled pork, coffee and more soda it was high time for some down time. All you runners and joggers out there are familiar with the concept of intake, exercise and then the need for an outlet. If you can’t move that intake you very soon hit that brick wall and end up at a complete stop. It’s suddenly become impossible to move even an inch no matter how many miles left on the track.
Krantz slid into limp mode. At this time, the only thing in the whole world that really mattered was to find a restroom. NOS-options, aluminum coolers and those darn Coker wheels for bargain prices became completely uninteresting.
My legs had left me after three miles. Think they still were there but totally useless, hanging on to my behind like a pair of jeans off a clothing line. And forget about the feet, they had gone on strike several hours ago. They started whining about the same time as the skipping girl. The sun was gnawing on me like a gigantic, bored puppy. Fourteen! The leather jacket was refusing. Number nine! It felt like the jacket producers failed to separate the cow from the skin.
Illustration by Kent Nordlinder
One and nineteen! Stepped in a pot-hole. Heading towards that brick wall. Number eight ma’am! I could see the line to the portable toilets. The Great Wall of China of emergency-shitters. Twelve! I heard someone roar. Maybe an auction or something?
Twenty!
I noticed the line reducing quickly. Seven and six! Suddenly I was in the front line and there he was. Distinct. Safe. Upright. Direct. A magnificent example of the specie human being. The Afro American ruled the gravel I was standing on. Nine! He opened the door to a blue porter potty with number nine on the door and smiled.
He had a half circle of 20 porter potties behind him. TEN AND THREE NOW!
He had the voice of a Cyclone, the mouth of a Raptor and eyes white, like the white numbers in the Deli’s during the sixties that fell down with a bang. When he screamed NOW you barely needed a toilet. It’s already done. FIVE SIR! I will never forget it. I got number five.
It cost two dollars. I closed the door. Eight NOW! Fifteen, two dollars ma’am. TEN! The Cyclone was raging outside but in here in the blue-green light the serene seclusion of immunity ruled. EIGHT! I knew I had two hundred imposing eyes scanning my door and in three minutes another one will take my place but the giant man out there was playing on my team and his obviousness made my duty legitimate, on the verge of important. SIX!
The thunderstorm was raging outside but in here I sat, without electricity and was cozy. I wanted to write a book. “With the pants down in USA”
-Peace brother.
TWO, THREE AND SEVEN. The secret house’s movements geared up to a roaring show where each and every one got their special moment in the spotlight; invisibly.
– Impossibly possible and all of that for two dollars. Only in America.
Everyone’s hero in the framework didn’t fit into the picture of Hershey. Well, here are two pages in dedication to him, in two languages – worldwide and he gets to initiate a new era. Krantz’ chronicles in Worldkustom.
– He is totally worth it.
– The crapper conductor.
