The Legend of Krazybread
Summer 2003, I was just out of the Army, got in my Buick and headed west. I had a vague idea in my head that I wanted to be a professional gambler, but only a slight clue of how to do it. I headed to Reno, found a $340 a month apartment, and set up shop.
My main hang out was the 3rd floor of the Cal-Neva club, aka the Troll Den. The place was like that bar in Star Wars, filled with the most eccentric people you could ever imagine existing, most of whom were there because they had been thrown out of every other casino in town. It was there that I met Krazybread.
He was the kind of person who was always panhandling for a strange amount (Can I get 39 cents from you). There's on of him in every sports book in Nevada, the scruffy, down on his look type who is in there because it's warmer than outside, and it's cheaper than the movies. He was a Cherokee, and I used to jokingly ask him if the Cherokee word for hello was
"Aymanyougotanyuhdemdrinktickets"
I ran into him pretty much every time I was in there, and he was a fairly interesting character. There was a Little Caesars downtown, and they sold Krazybread for a dollar a bag. Whenever he could save up a dollar, he'd go get a bag and eat it as a meal. He always had a bag of it with him, hence the nickname.
There are three stories of his that deserve documentation.
He came up to me one day and said that a friend of his was in deep trouble. He had apparently borrowed $30k from some "Mexican Mafia" people and was highly behind on the loan. Violence seemed eminent, so Krazybread needed to go negotiate with the bad guys. And not having a car, he needed my help.
I couldn't possibly say no, so we headed out to Boomtown, a casino in Verdi, ten miles west of Reno. We walked around the casino for a while, and he said we were early. To pass time, he took me into the arcade and there was an area like a movie theater where the customer is given 3d glasses. Then a movie appeared on the screen and it simulated being on a magic carpet flying through the desert. When it was over, he was laughing harder than a Japanese schoolgirl at the Hello Kitty factory.
"Awww man, that was so fun!!! Let's do it again!! You put in the money this time, I'm out."
"I think it's a better to focus on the life and death negotiation about to take place"
He agreed and we headed to a bathroom by the entrance. It was very long, about 12 stalls on each side. He put his head down to the floor to check for feet. In the last stall against the back wall, you could see a pair of dress shoes facing the door. Someone was in there leaning against the wall. Krazybread said that was who he was looking for, and headed down. He knocked three times and the door opened. I stayed at the entrance to the bathroom and checked. Their feet were perpendicular, as if they were whispering to each other. I left.
Long story short, he was in there 40 minutes, talking to whoever was in the stall. At least, I hope they were talking. He finally comes out, and he's crying so hard he can't explain what's going on. We get in the car and start driving back to Reno. I-80 after about a mile, he has an anxiety attack and yells at me to stop the car. He grabs sun visor and starts yelling, "They're going to kill my man!! They're going to kill my man!!" over and over and over. Finally, he gets out of the car, jumps the barbed wire fence next to the road and starts running through the field. He just kept running without looking back.
I left him there. I didn't know what else to do. I stayed out of the CNC the next few days because I figured he'd be mad. Next time I went in, he was there and asked me for drink tickets.
"Sorry I left you there, but I didn't know if you were coming back. Out of curiosity, how did you get home that night?"
He had no idea what I was talking about.
Two weeks later, he came up to me and told me his grandfather was dying. Begged me for a ride up to Pyramid Lake and actually gave me $20 for gas up front. We drove for an hour, and it was a fairly rough looking reservation. We stopped at a house, and he got out to knock on the door. An elderly woman answered, he told her he was looking for Charlie. She looked at both of us very suspiciously and told him he had moved to Idaho ten years ago. He said something else, and she told him she was going to call the Tribal police.
We drove a mile down the road, and the same played out. Old woman answered the door, he asked for a different person, she told him he had moved, etc. Went from there to bar right on the shore of the lake.
He told me the history of Pyramid Lake. Apparently, many of the Paiutes consider it to be cursed/haunted since quite a few people have drowned in it.
There's also a kind of fish that's only found in two different places on Earth, there, and a lake somewhere in China.
He looked at his watch and said, "Dude, it's getting late, we'd better get back to Reno for Monday night football."
"When are we going to go see your grandfather??!!"
"Huh, what are you talking about?"