Roman Roulette - Countryhumans America x China

Shimmer

"Today is the day!" I announced to my stuffed rooster. He did not seem very impressed, but I was too ecstatic to care. Today I travel out west, and nothing can ruin my mood. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. There are no birds, but still...

Okay, scratch that. I have no coffee so that maybe tarnished my mood a little. Last night I had spent the late hours rushing around and collecting things for my two-week journey out west in search of some top-notch entertainment. I did not go to sleep until around two in the morning, dead on the floor. To fix my issue, I fiddled around with the buttons, and only then I was able to get a watery based espresso, drip by drip. Add a side of boiled eggs and bacon from a nearby eatery, and I was ready to go. Lugging the bright blue plastic suitcase down a flight of stairs was somewhat strenuous, considering I didn't want to scratch any surfaces, so I arrived down at the bottom in seven minutes, counting. I locked the doors, bid my apartment goodbye for the time being, and made my way to the back.

Excluding the mess made by incoherent neighbours, the courtyard was cleaner than usual. Sure, some smushed cardboard boxes still littered the periphery, but there weren't any rags or broken glass to speak of. I stepped into the locked shed to retrieve the vehicle I would use. And when I said I was wild earlier, I meant it. I don't use cars often. I prefer motorcycles.

The next thing I did was drive down to my friend, Mexico's flat which was located approximately ten blocks from my own. I was surprised that he was already standing there with a backpack in one hand, and a bowl of tamales in another. By his sleepy stance, I figured he was standing there since dawn broke.

"Hey, Mexico!" I yelled. He approached my motorcycle cautiously, peering at the backseat. "Seriously America? I thought you liked comfort." Maybe he expected a car, but he was suited up for riding perfectly. Leather jacket, faded jeans, an Oaxaca beaded necklace, and his ever-present sombrero on a string.

"Sometimes it must be sacrificed for the thrill," I told him. "Get on."

"Dios Mio, I must be crazy to do this," he muttered. Without waiting any longer, I sped off onto the street, heading out on the highway heading west. I liked the speedy lane since it was almost magical to see the scenery change. First comes the city outskirts, tall high rise buildings, clogged streets filled with cars, a smoky haze. Next comes the border between suburbia and urbanscapes. These were not yet the quaint little fenced gardens of the Levittown cookie-cutter houses, but rough and grainy, many run-down stores and shopping cart haven, blocks etched carelessly by people who probably didn't know what they were doing. Passing by to the next borderline, you could see then the uniformly clean suburb areas where sprinklers and grills stood out in front of every brightly painted house. Tree-lined streets, yippy dogs, RV's, backyard swimming pools. Each part was extremely different from the other, like factions standing apart. Only after we passed these fenced-in neighbourhoods did we get out to the wild plain country. Sod grass, free wind, hot sun.

"America, are you okay up there?" Mexico's voice came out quiet from the roar of the motor.

I was euphoric with excitement. "Yeah, why?"

"You're spattered with insects," he pointed out. "Doesn't it bother you?" My eyes darted to my sleeves, which were indeed covered in dead insects. If I weren't so happy, I don't think I would have been stranded on this torture.

"Right now, nothing bothers me!" I yowled. Mexico did not look impressed. The two-lane highway road became lonely as more cars emptied out to the exits. The tall bushy grasses became lower and lower, soon to become rough, dry, and cracked dirt. We kept on riding as many water windmills and shanty houses popped up here and there.

"Are we there yet?" Mexico said for the millionth time. "Tengo hambre."

"Soon."

"How soon is soon?"