Don Juan and the Desert Sessions II


Don Juan Nick, Don Juan Steve, Don Juan Ben, Don Juan Me

We in this thang, Certified

I have to pee

Interstate 5

II. The Ride of the Don Juans

My economy-car is full as we fly through Buttonwillow, California. From the backseat Nick suggests we figure out a way to mine Bitcoins.

Everyone goes to their phones–for research. I watch the road and listen for backseat reporting.

Steve takes the lead shortly after and gives a long-winded explanation that not only clarifies how Bitcoins work, but details the near impossibility of mining them: a factory of hard-drives, algorithms, tracking systems, firewall encoding, firewall cracking.

“So where’s the problem?” Nick asks. “I’m trying to get this money. I’m about that Bitcoin life.”

His passion enhanced by the blunt we’ve just passed around. As follows, Ben and I can only laugh.

Nick continues, “I want to be the fucking Don Juan of Bitcoins.”

And there it is– “Don Juaning.”

We ask the future lord of the digital currency underworld, what he’d do to start his empire–like a true Don Juan. Nick suggests a bit of human capital to maintain all of the servers, much a like an outsourced call-center that assists when your tablet wont load Netflix. Tech Savvy college students in need of quick cash will run the basic infrastructure monitoring. Sweatshops hot with server cabinets. They’ll be provided Redbull and weed, which would be factored into the overhead.

That’s how Don Juan’s get their start.

Ben says, we’ll wear iced-out external hard-drive medallions. Steve says thumb-drives.

Up ahead there’s a grey Chevy driving slower than the speed of traffic in the fast lane, and to our right, all semis. We can’t pass and we’re hungry for food, hungry to reach Palm Desert–the Coachella Valley. The short height of my economy car won’t let us determine if the Chevy has other folks in front it slowing us all down, but we soon discover he doesn’t. He’s apparently not headed to In and Out, doesn’t have to pee, doesn’t want to make it to the desert to get a good night’s rest before the West Coast’s biggest music festival.

The smell of Swisher Sweets and Blackberry Kush linger in car as I finally get the opportunity to pass the Chevy. Ben declares, “Well, he’s obviously a Non-Juan.”

And up ahead, I spot the kitsch yellow arrow indicating an In and Out burger is approaching.


One comment

  1. So good. So funny. I want to be Don Juanitaing.

    Super glad to see you’re writing.

    Sent from my iPhone


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