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MOJAVE PHONE BOOTH
These pix are from our July '99 trip to the Mojave Desert phone booth (40 minutes from nowhere or any paved road). Go to Godfrey Daniel's page to see what the hell we were doing there and how it all began, because I'm not reiterating it here. In a nutshell: Godfrey reads in Girl Touble, a punk zine, about an old World War II payphone in the middle of the desert and decides to call it -- every day for a month till someone answers it. He then visits it a few times and the many folks who visit his site call him. He returns with my friend Daniel and more buddies, of which our trip is one reincarnation. Thanks to those of you around the globe who called us (I think we logged calls from over 20 countries).
Anyhoo, Nicole and I went in my car. We met up there with Daniel Paul and his psychotic pooch who puked on me. I met Daniel (and a host of other great folks, including artists Frank Bruno and Norbert Kox) in Las Vegas through indie publishers Dilettante Press; a good pal of Godfrey's, Daniel is still working to preserve Bottle Village, a great art environment in Simi Valley, CA.
All of us were introduced to Daryl (who had recently hitchhiked across the country after being booted from Jerry Falwell's bible college for Blasphemy - good job!). He came with a lame guy that left early... and we're glad he did, because I gave Daryl a lift home to Silver Lake, and he became a regular fixture in the fermented chaos that is my life. About 15 other folks came and left, but we were there for the duration. After 20 pees in the cactus, 80 oz. of liquor, 120-degree temperatures, 180 phone calls, and about 900 bugs, we finally split.
Sadly, the booth has been removed, but you can still buy a piece of the glass for a meager donation -- say, a tiger whisker or a ferret hat.
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Map to the booth, which is 20 miles or so northeast of Baker and several unpaved miles off of Interstate 15. |
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The Booth, complete with colorful magnet letters, Barbie gargoyle (perched on top, which you can see further down), welcome mat, disco ball, graffiti and airholes (er, lack of glass walls). The sign says "The Mojave Phone Booth: You could shoot it, but why would you want to?" |
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The Welcome mat. Keeps the dust off the floor of the booth. |
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Nicole and I enjoying a stimulating convo with Godfrey's alter ego, Wagner. He gets all the young babes. "Our Wagner!!" He's posed with some of the most notorious freaks in Christendom: giant rocks, human refuse (er celebrities), Space Ghosts and hippie evangelists. Pix of Godfrey, however, are harder to come by. |
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The trail of poles that leads to nowhere - in both directions. |
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Godfrey answering a call from the top of the booth, where it was apparently .5 degrees cooler and the view was fab. |
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The forever-faceless Godfrey striking a pose, while Nicole and Daniel crouch in the two inches of car shade and the rest of us stand around like dolts. |
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The arrow, much like the Great Wall of China, is visible from space so that pilots and aliens can find the booth. |
| Godfrey did teach us a most righteous drink, but it requires group participation...
Required
one bottle Vodka. one bottle apple juice. one bottle cinnamon. one can whipped cream (which Godfrey always has handy, of course ). two buddies. a willingness to get sticky and sloppy and sloshed.
- The lucky winner, you sit somewhere with no valuables nearby and lean back.
- Two said buddies pour small amounts (or not) of the following ingredients into your gaping mouth, in exact order: apple juice, vodka, a squirt of whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon.
- You shut your trap and they take your head and shake it till it all mixes together and eventually goes partly down your gullet and partly down your shirt (or all over them).
This drink has a really cool name, but needless to say, after about four of them, I had forgotten it entirely. |
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Daryl doing his best John Wayne with a fake (bubble gum) cigarette. |
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Nicole playing operator - and drinking on the job! Our early pick-up lines: "Hi! ... Yeah, we're out here at the booth. ... Yeah, we really are ... Because it's here, that's why ... Hotter than being stuck between Satan's thighs, thanks for asking. ... Yes it is a beautiful, communal experience (wipe away a tear). ... Thanks again for calling."
Ten beers and three hours later: "Hi. Thank you for clalling the Mojave Desert Fone Berth. Your call is important to us. Please hang on the line and it will be anslurred shortly. (hum some elevator music while your buddy, peeing into cactus, cracks up)." Mojave Phone Booth Pizza operators also popped up, and I even convinced one sap in Australia that Starbucks was indeed opening a branch near the booth. |
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Graffiti. Whole note is readable when enlarged. I see they shared our reason for the pilgrimage. |
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Daniel's "rear hood ornament," perfect for a hatchback. Yes, the chicken shit is real. |
How can you go all the way out to Baker without seeing the largest thermometer in existence and slouching in the overstuffed booths at Bun Boy? Collage shape coincidental. |
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