So, what does one say to a Hells Angel?
Yes. No kidding. I got on the elevator after work today, in Winston-Salem, N.C., and there were two gentlemen sporting black leather vests with one of the most recognized icon’s in the world, the Hells Angels logo. (I believe these two were from Nebraska.)
I am in Winston-Salem, “Cig City” as I will call it, for a “dirty jobs” gig to supplement my first love (for the time being) — PingWi-Fi.com. Here in Cig City I am working with a crew to demolish portions of a retirement center that was ravished by fire.
I have heard two accounts of the cause — one is fireworks, the other an overused heating pad. Eww. Let’s just hope it wasn’t some sizzling combination of the two here in retirementville. I digress …
So, I am on the road and checking out Wi-Fi sights during afterhours. I am “cut of simple cloth” so I can find something interesting just about anywhere I go. Would Cig City prove to be the ultimate challenge? I mean … at first glance the most interesting things I saw were two business towers — one labeled ReynoldsAmerica, the other Winston. Why didn’t the architects just shape the towers like two big old filter kings?, I aks.
So anyway … at first my sightseeing was a bit low in tar, nicotine and/or blogability.
Riding around, listening to satellite radio, I happened upon the Outlaw Country station and gave it a whirl. Do you know the old David Alan Coe song with the chorus: “If that ain’t country, I’ll kiss your … er … ‘posterior'”?
How apropo … because I am quite country and this memory has been on my mind in Cig City … You see, as a child, I learned to write my name (Kent) by looking at a package of my dad’s cigarettes. Not only do I go by one brand — Kent, my middle name — my first name is almost pronounced like another brand … Doral … so, “If that ain’t country” … well, you know.
OK country “Cig Boy” … get your butt back on track …
So anyway … I had my first ever direct encounter with a Hells Angel, on the elevator. Earlier, I had seen a couple of older men in the parking lot — pony tails, beards, etc. No indication of motorcycle club affiliation, until one pulled out the colors and put on his vest.
Then later I went on a ride with some of them … LOL … rode the hotel lift with a couple of guys who actually were quite cordial.
Since then the bikers have quickly grown in number. I had muffins and coffee with a few angry looking dudes yesterday in the hotel cafe.
Contrast always makes for good art, so it is interesting that there are also several family vacation types staying in this hotel.
Can you imagine the thoughts of a 14-year-old girl who is probably on family vacation … bored between texting her boy back home … experiencing what is probably her last partially enjoyable family vacation … thinking the swimming pool and her tan are the only escape from mom and dad … AND THEN, she slips away from the family to lay out by the pool, and the water is surrounded by big burly Hells Angels?
Now that must be one summer vacation to remember and to text all your BFFs.
So, that is the interesting little cultural study that has been laid at my feet. The bikers seem to keep a constant vigil at the front doors of the hotel … not causing anyone harm, but monitoring who goes in and out … in between cigs and brewskis.
Why don’t I change hotels? Are you kidding me!
Speaking of vigils, that is actually why they are here. Local authorities expect tempers to run high. The Winston-Salem branch (Forsyth County) of the worldwide HA organization lost its president, Dwight Alan Sluder, 48, killed in his home by a shot to the back of the head. Several hundred angels have descended on the town for the memorial. My roomkeeper and I just discussed this in Espanol. She estimated there are cuarenta bikers in the hotel.
Here is some video of the Angels:
So … Welcome to Winston-Salem, N.C. … Cig City …
I am looking out the window now. There are about 20 Harleys parked near the door and the Police have just driven up.
Could be interesting …
Know what I sayin?
