Where Are They Now – Geoffrey Giraffe

In the 1980s and 90s Geoffrey Giraffe was the epitome of ChildHood merriment. A cultural icon of his time. Beloved by millions before unfortunate, but avoidable, circumstances ruined his life.This is part two in a five part interview. 

Please start at part one.

I’m sitting at the penny slots in the Imperial Palace hotel and casino on the back bay of Biloxi. Geoff is a regular here – according to all gossip that I’ve heard – and has made some local friends. I’m extremely interested to learn what the locals think of their once famous, once infamous, local celebrity. The buffet is closed but the bar isn’t. The bar never is.

Sitting at the Hippodrome progressive slots is Mariah, a local who doesn’t want me to use her real name for a variety of reasons.

Mariah: I shouldn’t be gambling, I shouldn’t be talking to the press, I shouldn’t be drinking; but here I am doing all three like a fucking pro. So let’s leave real names out of it.

The bells go off on the slot machine and ‘Mariah’ gets visibly excited. Apparently there is a bonus round that could, potentially, payout hundreds if not thousands of dollars. As the hippodrome cases go round and round Mariah takes a deep drag off of her cigarette.

Mariah: Yeah, Geoff is a regular here and at the Beau Rivage. He doesn’t have as much flash about him as he used to – according to him – but he’s still doing pretty good. 

The Hippodrome wheels continue to spin. Lining up one by one with the hope of a maximum payout.

Mariah: You’re not supposed to acknowledge him. We all know who he is, we all know who he used to be, and we all know how hard it is to ignore a nine foot tall talking giraffe. 

The Hippodrome reels come to a stop and sirens and alarm bells go off.

Travis: Is that good?

Mariah: That’s five hundred dollars! You god damn right that’s good.

She hits the redeem button on the slot machine and it plays a song like a circus in a blender.

Mariah: We try to treat him like he’s one of the locals. We don’t bring up the past unless he does. We do happy hour trivia on Thursday nights at Ruby Tuesday. He’s great at the pop culture category.

Travis: Does he ever talk about the good ole days?

Mariah: Yeah, after a few pitchers of margaritas he’ll get a little nostalgic. Which makes sense I guess. I ain’t never been that high up on the totem pole of the world; but I bet it’s pretty hard to come down from that.

She takes the redemption ticket from the slot machine.

Mariah: This right here? This is as close to the top of the heap as I get.

It is the middle of the night and we are standing waist deep in the shallow water just off the sand of the beach. We are adorned in waders, a light over our shoulder, a spear in our hands and a bag on our hips. This is flounder gigging – a type of fishing for flat fish that blend into the mud and sand of the bay. The lights outline the silhouette of the fish and then you stab the ever loving shit out of them with your fishing trident. It is not without its charms and ironies.

Travis: Do you not see something fundamentally weird about this?

Geoff: Every animal is an omnivore if the opportunity presents itself. (stab. miss) Shit. You ever seen those videos of deers eating rabbits and shit? 

Travis: No.

Geoff: They do it, you know.

Geoff: I don’t do it often but I feel like if I’m going to indulge I should be responsible and accountable for it. (stab. miss) Shit. It’s not all for me, by the way. This is maybe a once a month treat, if that. It’s quiet out here at night, anyone you run into out here doesn’t wanna talk. It’s peaceful.

Travis: I feel like stabbing a fish in the fucking head isn’t a catch and release kind of sport.

Geoff: Oh for sure. (stab.hit) Awesome. Yeah there’s no going back after that.

Holding the fish up in his left … hand? … Geoff whips a knife off of his belt and cuts the fish’s throat in an act called bleeding and then throws it into his net. There isn’t an episode of any BBC nature documentary that will prepare you for that. 

Geoff: There’s a fish monger not too far from here – anything I’m not keeping I take to him. He does all the prep work and then I take it to a local shelter, or food bank.

Travis: Why?

Geoff: The kids dude. I still care about the kids. Some of those would be Toys R Us kids are out there and hungry. 

Travis: That is the nicest sentiment I’ve ever heard from someone who literally has blood on their hands. 

Geoff: I try to do some good in the community.

I’m sitting on the balcony of Snapper’s Seafood, a local hole in the wall place that has an amazing view of the Gulf of Mexico. On the table is a cornucopia of some of my favorite food and a bucket filled with ice and beers. My dining companion is retired Air Force Master Sergeant Tim Schultz. Tim is a big dude – maybe five foot ten, 230lbs – with a shaved head and a bushy mustache. He’s wearing plain black shorts and a tank top with a violently pink flamingo in sunglasses. 

Keesler Air Force Base was his last duty station and he figured it was a good enough place to put down roots for the remainder of his days.

Tim:  Big Gee tells me that you were stationed here too?

Travis: Yeah, pipeliner straight out of BMT. Looks a lot different. Katrina and time did a fucking number of this place.

Tim: It’s come back. It’s still got the same flavor. Shit man (he says pointing at the feast in front of us) crawfish, oysters, po-boys and a bucket of beer on the sand; who could ask for more?

Travis: So who is Geoff to you?

Tim: Oh man, Big Gee? He’s my buddy. My friend. Barbeque in the front yard kinda guy. I know everyone thinks they know who he was – I’m just concerned with who he is. Always a place at his table. Always a beer in the fridge – even if it’s his last one.

Travis: How do you feel about his past? The fame, the problems?

Tim: You got any friends that don’t have problems? Just because he was famous for a bit doesn’t mean he’s not people. 

Tim picks up a raw oyster on the half shell and slurps it down.

Tim: Yup, he was famous and that meant that he’s seen a side of the world that I never will but here we are sharing time and stories and food and shit. I don’t really know nothin’ about what he’s been through; but I don’t need to. All I know is that his highs were probably really high and the lows … well shit man … probably lower than you and I will ever know. But tell me this.

(He picks up a crawfish from the bucket, splits it in half, and devours it)

Tim: Why are you doing this? Why are you here digging through Gee’s past and present? Meeting with his friends. (Mariah) told me that you met her at the I.P. a couple of nights ago. Why does this mean anything to you?

Travis: Are you turning the interview on me?

Tim: Naw man, ain’ t nothin’ like that. This isn’t reverse psychology. You’re here, in my home, meeting with my friends, digging into a story that maybe ain’t yours to tell. Maybe a story Gee doesn’t want told. So why? What’s in it for you?

This table that felt very amicable moments ago suddenly feels very…hostile isn’t the right word…but less than friendly. 

Travis: The truth?

Tim: All anyone can ask for my friend.

I help myself to an oyster and a beer. Figure I’ll indulge before a little soul baring.

Travis:  When I was a kid there was a Nickelodeon contest. The grand prize was a shopping spree at Toys R Us. You got something like five minutes to just run your pre-adolescent ass through the store and grab anything and everything you could get your hands on. It was a kid’s wet dream. We didn’t have a lot growing up so the idea of this is like the idea of the billion dollar powerball to you and I now. 

That year, for my birthday, the only thing that I wanted was a Toys R Us shopping spree. I knew it wouldn’t be that grab whatever you want kind of thing; but the idea of going into the store with no restraint was like cocaine. My mom got my whole family, and extended “aunts and uncles”  to just give me cash for my birthday that year. After all was said and done I walked into Toys R Us with $250 of fuck you kid money. 

This was before a lot of shit went wrong in my life and it’s always been a happy memory. I guess part of me is trying to reconcile that feeling with the reality of being a grown up. There’s a lot of stuff that is lost to time – I guess I don’t want that feeling to be one of those things.

Tim cracks open a beer for himself,  he tips the neck of the bottle  and cheerses me. He leans back in his chair and takes a deep drink.

Tim: That, my friend, is the essence of Gee. That childish glee. I think that’s all he ever wanted – even if he got caught up in a bunch of nonsense. He’d want that same feeling to exist in the world if it could. I’m not sure that it can right now – you don’t get that same euphoria on Amazon. You’re a good dude. I’ll split a bucket of beers with you any time.

Travis: You buying?

Tim: We can go halvsies.

Travis: Sold.

And he gives me the kind of handshake that used to seal a deal without any paperwork.

To be continued in part three