Chris Edge, Viginti Tres, Johnny Cash Burgers & 322

Longtime readers of this, the best blog you’ve never heard of, are familiar with my rather trippy experience in moving to West Chester, which I have dubbed my Viginti Tres Enigma.

Back when I was moving to West Chester, I bought two luggage locks for my hockey bag, and I decided to set the three-digit combination to 322, as a tribute to President George Bush, leader of my new home country (not really), and member of the secret society known as Skull & Bones, as any google search will attest. The number 322 has a bit of cache in this area, as the main highway into West Chester is the 322, and the local Freemason’s Lodge is also Local 322.

Alexandra Robbins, author of , has made mention of this number:

ALEXANDRA ROBBINS: Okay. So, according to Skull and Bones lore, and this is something that both Senator Kerry and president bush would have learned, in 322 B.C., a Greek orator died. When he died, the goddess Eulogia, the goddess, whom Skull and Bones called the goddess of eloquence, arose to the heavens and didn’t happen to come back down until 1832, when she happened to take up residence in the tomb of Skull and Bones. Now Skull and Bones does everything in deference to this goddess. They have songs or they call them that sacred anthems that they sing when they are encouraged to steal things, some remarkably valuable items, supposedly, they are said to be bringing back gifts to the goddess. They begin each session in the tomb, and they meet twice weekly by unveiling a sort of a guilt shrine to Eulogia. That’s the point of the society. They call themselves the Knights of Eulogia. That’s where the 322 comes in.

JUAN GONZALEZ: John Kerry, in terms of the number 322.

ALEXANDRA ROBBINS: I spoke with somebody close to Kerry, a member of Skull and Bones. He said that Kerry actually uses 322 as a code in his daily life.

As any good economist will tell you, three instances marks a trend, and those three coincidences definitely stood out to me at the time.

A pertinent detail to this whole enigma relates to Tool’s latest album, as well as the number 23 - translated as viginti tres, a song on the CD. The day I arrived in West Chester, I went to the local CD shop and purchased this album, and was listening to it in my rental car for like a week straight. Concurrent to that, I was setting up a roommate situation with a MySpace friend who had an unusual attachment to the number 23. I found it rather appropriate that the day I was to meet her, there was an interview on the radio with Danny Carey, Tool’s drummer, in which he discussed one of the songs on the album, Viginti Tres, which is latin for 23.

I though this guy had an interesting, although weak connection between 322 and the number 10,000:

[17:44] ario: i’m trying to figure out the significance of the title “10,000 days” , the title of the new tool album
[17:44] ario: it’s kind of like a puzzle if you listen to the song lyrics, especially after reading this
[17:45] ario: the guy says… “By the way, one line posted among a snippet of leaked lyrics was “10,000 days in the fire is long enough.” I don’t want to ruin your fun, so I will say just this - the meaning of “10,000 Days” was immediately clear to me, especially from the line which follows that line. (I did cheat later and confirm by doing a little math, but I remain convinced.)”
[17:46] ario: song lyrics here
[17:46] ario: the line he’s referring to says “You’re going home…”
[17:46] ario: seems to be related to the military… possibly the Iraq war
[17:47] ario: 10k days = 322 months
[17:47] ario: that’s roughly 27 years

So, for the most part, 322 has just been my little inside joke with West Chester that gives me a special affinity for this place.

Here’s where the Johnny Cash burger comes in. About a month into my stay here, I met up with a dude named Chris Edge, a hardcore punk minister of the gospel. He hails from Jacksonville, Florida, and is one of the most real and genuine people I have ever met. He used to be a bodybuilder, but over the past few years, he really connected with hardcore punk music, and now has some sweet tattoos, hooped ears, and he dresses like a rockabilly bassist or something. He’s a really cool guy.

We got to talking one day, and both discovered a mutual interest in the late Johnny Cash, and he made mention of a local cajun cafe here in town called the High Street Cafe, where they serve a lunch special known as the Johnny Cash burger (with Folsom Prison Sauce), comprised of a huge beef patty, blue cheese, bacon and some really hot prison sauce. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of prison sauce being anywhere near my burger, so it just didn’t appeal to me back then, and I tucked the info away in my memory.

Time went on, and I eventually lost touch with Chris, but that Johnny Cash burger kept popping up in my mind. For the past three months, every time I thought about the Johnny Cash burger, I’d think of the man who told me about it. I thought I was done with the story, but just when you think it’s over, it pulls you back in, man.

Over time, I ended up forging a connection with a Hungarian colleage at work whom I will refer to as the Chester County Connoisseur, because all you need to know about him is that he knows how to live well in this town without a car. He can tell you where to get anything you could possibly need, albeit at a slightly marked-up price, because it’s not at a big-box retailer. The man knows where the best stuff is in this town, and it’s often at a great price.

One day last week, I was telling the Hungarian how I had been to several pubs in this town in search for the regional all-American hamburger.As a newbie to the whole West Chester hamburger scene, I had to ask the Hungarian for his opinion as a fellow outside observer of Americana. With four years in this town under his belt, he was sure possesss grander wisdom than I.

So I asked the Chester County Connoisseur:

“Hey man - I’ve had some good burgers around this town, and I’m looking for some ideas on where to go next. I’ve been to Baxter’s for their pulled pork sandwiches, which are good, and their burgers are mediocre. I’ve hit up Kildare’s pub and Ryan’s, and those are really good. But what’s the best place to get a burger in this town?”

He glanced askance as though he were dropping me an insider trading tip, and pointed his finger at me with the kind of certainty only an experienced connoisseur could have, and he said:

“Dude. You have got to try the Johnny Cash burger. It comes with Folsom Prison sauce, and it’s . . . the best. You can get one down the street at this cafe. One day, this week, when we have time, I will show you the place, and you can try it.”

The cadence of his voice just commanded confidence in his opinion that this was the best burger in town.

“All right man. I’ve heard of that burger before. Someone else mentioned it to me a while back, but I’ve yet to try it. Let’s hit it up”.

So today, the Hungarian gathered factioned assembly of lunchtime connoisseurs, comprised mostly of fellow immigrants (that’s another blog post about American male bonding barriers altogether), and we headed down High Street to the High Street Cafe.

322, High Street, to be precise.

Yep, the Johnny Cash burger led me right back to the number 322. I was not led to the Johnny Cash burger by 322. After all, I’m sure I would have heard of this colonic concoction sooner or later. I still have heartburn from it.

And the story continues.