It’s confession time. I’ve been living a lie for a while now. For the past two-and-a-half years, I’ve barely laid eyes upon the fine city of Sacramento. I do not know where the hotspots are anymore, which is a bit ironic given where you may be reading this. Unfortunately, I’m not living in Roseville, West Sac or Elk Grove either. In fact, I can’t even call the greater Sacramento area my home.
I’d like to say I moved somewhere cool like the Bay Area or New York City or even Austin, but that’s not how this went. The scientists at Submerge, in their never ending quest to determine exactly what a Bocephus Chigger is, thought it would be interesting to see what would happen when they put Bocephus in a weird place. With little input from me, the experimental parameters were set, and I was shipped off as far as the budget would allow.
Nestled about 70 miles south of Sacramento, along Highway 99 between Stockton and Fresno (the twin meccas of things going right), Modesto, California has been my home for the last two-and-half-years. It’s truly been something. Fortunately, the experiment is almost over, and I have been told that I am now allowed to discuss my time here. Of course, this is probably also part of the experiment, so what are you going to do? These guys are tricky!
In a way they prepared me for my life as Modestonian, Modestite, Modestan, Modestoner. Life is tricky out here. The amount of meth floating around these streets would make Walter White proud. Even if you and your face are lucky enough to avoid the body-altering effects of methamphetamines you might still find this town maddening enough to lead you to other forms of chemical dependence.
Things move slowly in Modesto, and when I say “things” I mean damn near everything. It’s as if time has been moving at half pace for the last decade or so. People are still figuring out how to pay with their debit cards out here. I see it happen without fail every time I go shopping: someone holding up the line because they are swiping their card the wrong way or using the wrong PIN. This inability to complete a transaction has undoubtedly caused the dearth of self-checkout lines in this town. It would probably take more workers to help with self-checkout customers than the traditional way.
It’s not all bad, though. American Graffiti is based on the life of a young George Lucas who grew up in Modesto. Every year the town has a big classic car show and parade in honor of the movie, which draws tons of sweet rides. Modesto is also the home of Gallo Wines, which are gross, but have been successful enough to allow the Gallo family to build an auditorium downtown that occasionally hosts some pretty cool shit, like the Buddy Guy concert I went to a few months ago.
If cars and concerts aren’t your thing, perhaps you find yourself hungry from time to time. Modesto has always been an agricultural area, which means that it smells weird here. Fortunately, it also means that farm-to-table eating is an option. The food here in general is good, though not as ethnically diverse as I would like. I haven’t had a good Bahn Mi in a minute and life is too short for that shit.
I’ve found other things to love in this place that I sometimes refer to as Modest Hell. Most importantly, I found someone to fall in love with and bring me back out of the cocoon that I had been building around myself. I found that I am capable of loving again if the right person is involved, and if I got nothing else from this trip, it would still be totally worth it for that alone.
Now the experiment is nearing a close, and it will soon be time to head back to the home office in good ol’ Sacramento. I can’t say I’ll be too sad, as Modesto never really felt like home anyway. That’s why I’m so excited to be heading back to Sacramento, and I’ve convinced my special lady friend to make the journey with me. I can’t wait to show her all of the cool things that made me fall in love with Sacramento in the first place. Hopefully, it will feel like home for her someday too.
– Bocephus Chigger
bocephus@submergemag.com
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