Mercury Retrograde and Cowboys:
Stardust Motel
Anyway, on San Antonio’s fabled and storied Riverwalk, there I was, with my girlfriend. Evening weekend crowd, a little thinner than usual, but still, a few tourists lurking. We were probably headed to a coffee shop I know.
Ahead of of us, weaving slightly, drink in hand, and I’m not sure, but I’ll bet it was an alcoholic beverage, skinny cowboy kid. Must be between the age of 18 and 24, rough guess, too skinny for his jeans, which should’ve been tighter, but boots, a (faux) pearl snap shirt, and topped with a new straw hat. While straw isn’t usually considered proper after Labor Day, that streamy evening on the Riverwalk? Looked just fine to me. I couldn’t tell, but it looked like a turkey feather tucked into the hat’s band.
He was was moving just a tad slower than we were, but I reined in behind him. I know the type: drunk cowboy. Just like Mercury Retrograde.
He was jovial and happy, or so it seemed, but I was a little leery, and I didn’t want to affront the lad in any way. Not that I couldn’t take him, sober? I could disable him with one move. But drunk? I could wail away at his jaw, his face, soft body parts, usual pain receptors, to no avail. I know my cowboys. Whether he’s ridden a bull for real, or not. Whether he’s played in two-a-days. Or not. Not a chance I was going to take. He’d had, just an estimate, a blood-alcohol content a little over the legal limit to walk. Probably twice over the limit to drive. His judgement was impaired. Which worried me.
Not so much, I mean, I’m not all that typical of Texan, with a nod to that redneck comic, “I fish, I don’t hunt….”* No, it’s just when I’m dressed in sandals and shorts, I look more like a beach person. In South Texas, I get the California tag too frequently. So consider my attire, the sandals and shorts, Hawaiian shirt – compared to the more traditional cowboy attire the kid and his buddy had on. Then, too, consider the blood-alcohol content.
The weave is easy to recognize. The cowboy, real or drug-store, again, easy to spot. All I did was back off a few paces, give a wide berth to the drunk cowboy.
It’s clear that a verbal transaction can go either way with a drunk cowboy. And it’s clear he’d just as soon pummel me as drape an arm over my shoulder and talk like we’re long-lost friends.
Mercury is like that. When Mercury heads in apparent retrograde pattern, like what’s coming up? The easiest way to deal with it is to avoid confronting the drunk cowboy. A confrontation wouldn’t bode well for me, either I get my ass kicked, or worse, I wind up with a new-found friend, slurring with alcohol-soaked breath, in my face. I’m not even sure which one is worse.
The way to avoid this kind of problem? Simple. Slow down. When a person (place or thing) starts to weave and act in a manner consistent with irrational behavior? Slow down. Let that person (place or thing) have its way. Stay out of its path.
Sometimes the most obvious solutions are easiest when Mercury is retrograde. And sometimes, when Mercury is retrograde? Good advice gets ignored.
The rest of the Mercury notes are here and the information on the upcoming Mercury Retrograde? That’s in the regular horoscopes.
*I think the exact quote is, “I fish but I don’t hunt, not because I think it’s holier than thou to eat meat that’s bludgeoned to death by someone else, no that’s not it, it’s too early and it’s too cold.” Attributed to Ron White.