Mjarc
So, there we were...
Day Two of tour, on the open road heading from St. Mary's PA to Pittsburgh PA. Sure, Pittsburgh wasn't exactly due east of where we ultimately wanted to be, but we had been told that a show had been booked for us there at some great venue that none of us had heard of before. Point us, push us, and we'll go. Due to complications the night before, we weren't officially supposed to play, but the nice kids at the VFW in St. Mary's gave us a stage, gave us some cash for the long drive straight from Chicago, and even were kind enough to give us a place to stay. Things were looking up.
I looked forward to splitting driving duties with Rick this time around. For the most part, I always drove. I like driving. I like being the one in control of whether or not we die, or our equipment gets smooshed to smitherines. But, on this particular journey, Rick was manning the wheel. He was a bit shaky, seeing as how he had gotten pulled over midway through our journey into Ohio one day previous. But, the gentlemanly Highway Patrol Officer deemed us unfit for a ticket, handed us a mere warning, and sent us on our way. Much obliged, Ohio. You're a better state than we'd originally thought.
We were bustling our way through the Appalachians, on a blustery, windy, drizzly day. The van was running fine. Scooter and the rest of the crew in the back were playing "Guess Which Card I'm Holding", an invented game where the contestants got three chances to 'guess which card an appointed person was holding'. Simple enough. I didn't partake. I took my break from behind the wheel and decided to sleep on the cutout piece of carpet that we'd inserted between the loveseat we'd installed, and the two captains chairs up front. Comfortable enough for the bounciest of journeys.
Fortunately, the night before we were lucky enough to have stayed at a house where a teen-aged boy's parents had not been present. This particular boy saw fit to let us rummage through his father's stash of old pornographic magazines. None of us had ever actually seen a naked woman before, so we were utterly curious, and ended up taking a few along for the ride. Just in case, if you know what I mean. Tours, however short, can become long, lonely journeys if you let them. You need ammo to keep you from being bored. We procured some tape, and began to rummage through the magazines when someone noticed an overabundance of homosexual pornographic film advertisements in one particular edition. Much to the chagrin of the rest of the party, this person (ie - the roady) decided to cut out these ads and tape them, willy-nilly, along the bare white walls of the inside of the van. Prominent titles included Ryker's Revenge & Mr. Sexwrench, to name only a few.
Out of the grey skies, there suddenly appeared two bright, flashing lights. "It can't be ... Twice? In two days?" Indeed. Rick had once again been caught surpassing the speed limit, but this time in the unforgiving surroundings of the lonely state of Pennsylvania. The boys in the back began to get worried. "Should we take the pictures down? Should we all sit up on the couch?" Answers were too late in coming. This highway patrolman mosied up along the passenger side of the van. Had he gone to the driver's side, he would have been left in the dark as to the filthy poses being struck less than ten inches from his head. But this patrolman chose the path less traveled. "How are you boy's doing?" he asks, standing stark and stern alongside the passenger door. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" Slutty pictures. Lack of seatbelts. Lack of proper seats. Lack of adherence to showering standards. Failure to comply with local drinking age guidelines. "No, sir. We do not know why we have been picked out from the among the herd of these weary travelers."
"You were speeding." Speeding? Indeed. Speeding through life, unaware of what lies ahead of us. In a way, officer, aren't we all speeding? Aren't we all doomed to speed until our engine's break and our frames break down and brains run out of gas. We were speeding. We are still speeding.
So, there we were...
Day Two of tour, on the open road heading from St. Mary's PA to Pittsburgh PA. Sure, Pittsburgh wasn't exactly due east of where we ultimately wanted to be, but we had been told that a show had been booked for us there at some great venue that none of us had heard of before. Point us, push us, and we'll go. Due to complications the night before, we weren't officially supposed to play, but the nice kids at the VFW in St. Mary's gave us a stage, gave us some cash for the long drive straight from Chicago, and even were kind enough to give us a place to stay. Things were looking up.
I looked forward to splitting driving duties with Rick this time around. For the most part, I always drove. I like driving. I like being the one in control of whether or not we die, or our equipment gets smooshed to smitherines. But, on this particular journey, Rick was manning the wheel. He was a bit shaky, seeing as how he had gotten pulled over midway through our journey into Ohio one day previous. But, the gentlemanly Highway Patrol Officer deemed us unfit for a ticket, handed us a mere warning, and sent us on our way. Much obliged, Ohio. You're a better state than we'd originally thought.
We were bustling our way through the Appalachians, on a blustery, windy, drizzly day. The van was running fine. Scooter and the rest of the crew in the back were playing "Guess Which Card I'm Holding", an invented game where the contestants got three chances to 'guess which card an appointed person was holding'. Simple enough. I didn't partake. I took my break from behind the wheel and decided to sleep on the cutout piece of carpet that we'd inserted between the loveseat we'd installed, and the two captains chairs up front. Comfortable enough for the bounciest of journeys.
Fortunately, the night before we were lucky enough to have stayed at a house where a teen-aged boy's parents had not been present. This particular boy saw fit to let us rummage through his father's stash of old pornographic magazines. None of us had ever actually seen a naked woman before, so we were utterly curious, and ended up taking a few along for the ride. Just in case, if you know what I mean. Tours, however short, can become long, lonely journeys if you let them. You need ammo to keep you from being bored. We procured some tape, and began to rummage through the magazines when someone noticed an overabundance of homosexual pornographic film advertisements in one particular edition. Much to the chagrin of the rest of the party, this person (ie - the roady) decided to cut out these ads and tape them, willy-nilly, along the bare white walls of the inside of the van. Prominent titles included Ryker's Revenge & Mr. Sexwrench, to name only a few.
Out of the grey skies, there suddenly appeared two bright, flashing lights. "It can't be ... Twice? In two days?" Indeed. Rick had once again been caught surpassing the speed limit, but this time in the unforgiving surroundings of the lonely state of Pennsylvania. The boys in the back began to get worried. "Should we take the pictures down? Should we all sit up on the couch?" Answers were too late in coming. This highway patrolman mosied up along the passenger side of the van. Had he gone to the driver's side, he would have been left in the dark as to the filthy poses being struck less than ten inches from his head. But this patrolman chose the path less traveled. "How are you boy's doing?" he asks, standing stark and stern alongside the passenger door. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" Slutty pictures. Lack of seatbelts. Lack of proper seats. Lack of adherence to showering standards. Failure to comply with local drinking age guidelines. "No, sir. We do not know why we have been picked out from the among the herd of these weary travelers."
"You were speeding." Speeding? Indeed. Speeding through life, unaware of what lies ahead of us. In a way, officer, aren't we all speeding? Aren't we all doomed to speed until our engine's break and our frames break down and brains run out of gas. We were speeding. We are still speeding.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home