And while we're on the subject of tunes...
We all know how certain songs inspire nostalgic sentiment and little heart pangs. I was reminded of this again last week while driving into work on my usual morning commute through the god-awful Columbia traffic. I had the window cracked enough to feel the biting cool air against my cheek, helping the coffee to slap my dead ass awake. Traffic slowed as I changed the station on the FM dial a couple of times and happened to land on a classic country radio station. I had tuned in just in time to hear the opening notes of Marty Robbin's "El Paso".
I'd always liked the song since it actually told an interesting story of the dangers of being in love.
For the unfamiliar, allow me to paint the picture.
The storyteller goes into a cantina in El Paso, sees a Mexican hooker and falls madly in love. Another dude is drinking with the hooker, which sets the jealous cowboy off. A testosterone moment ensues and guns are drawn. The storyteller outguns the "handsome young stranger" who soon lies dead on the floor, setting off a moment of guilt followed by the natural urge to run. Storyteller hides out in the badlands for a few days until his love for the hooker overwhelms his love for common sense.
It's at this point that he decides to hightail back into town to see the cheap Mexican hooker. He jumps on his horse and heads for the cantina when a posse sees him and starts busting caps in his ass. He makes it to the back door of the cantina where he dies in the hooker's arms. At this point she proceeds to rob him and buy a round of drinks for all the other johns in the joint (this part was not included in the song...just my supposition of the facts).
See the sad video here
It seems like only yesterday I was hearing this musical tale for the first time. It's hard to watch the video and not well up.
Yes, I know. Stories (or songs) of unrequited love followed by dying in a hooker's arms are as common as flies, but El Paso is different. It reminded me of a similar tale that happened some years later in the West Greenville village of Brandon at a cantina called Tucker's. Instead of a Mexican hooker, the part was played by a snuff queen and if I recall correctly the fight was over a bottle of toddy oil. It draws the same type of tears to one's eyes as the Marty Robbins ballad. Wow, I'm too choked up to continue...sorry.