4/28/2007

Music: "Life'll Kill Ya" - Warren Zevon (Album)

The desert was determined to swallow my Chevy. I was miles away from home, off-roading through the Apex, in a car that was obviously not built for the task. It was dark, I just kept my eyes on the sky ahead thinking "Follow the smoke." I did get stuck, but trudged through the mud- it was my best friend's birthday.

I caught a glimpse of a bon fire, breathing my third sigh of relief- the blaring Bob Marley proved that this one wasn't full of false hope.

Engine Off.
Parked.

Here's the hard part... where the fuck is Sid? The scattered groups had no apparent configuration, except that they grew larger as you got closer to the keg. The first familiar face I saw was Suzzy, who greeted me with a cup as if I were her father- surprising, considering she is my arch nemesis. Within' moments it was the fire, the sand, and one group. Myself, Reuben. Jorge, Suzzy, ___ (I leave a line, because Sid has a lot of friends that will not matter in this story) and the man of the night- Sid Vicious.

The Apex portion of the night ends as every get together- a cry of "the cops are coming, the cops are coming". Between my arrival, and the train of vehicles skidding through a swamp-textured desert... I did manage to hustle a listen of "I'll Never Fall In Love Again" - Elvis Costello & Burt Bacharach on notch 11 for everyone to hear. It was only party music to Sid and I.
"Oh great, Kevin" - Suzzy, without hesitation, or a need to confirm my location.

We sped down the highway as if we were chasing a tornado, racing one another with no fear of the alcohol in our blood.

We arrived collectively to a house belonging to all woman. A woman house. Lesbians I heard. I actually recognized it as the home I had been kicked out of a month earlier for arguing over their rule to put the seat down. Thankfully they forgot my face. They wouldn't after this night.

I snuck in my Graham Parker cd to counter-act the radio, and it went over really well. I made as many bathroom trips as possible, hoping somebody would notice the seat up and I would be able to reenact my Ron Bennington-inspired tirade. No such luck. That wouldn't stop Reuben and I from referencing it, reminiscing, and giggling every few seconds. People were in too good a mood.

All but one, a tall, big boned black man. Well, his skin color was whiter than me, but everything else about him would convince a radio audience otherwise. Dressed in camo shorts, and a "Somebody in Compton <3s Me" tee shirt- he wasn't a fan of my suit jacket.

"Why do you have a heart buttoned to your jacket, are you gay or sum'thin?"

The real story behind the heart- which looked great- I joked with Sid about smoothly removing it and handing it off slyly to a lovely woman. But to answer the soldier's question-

"Yeah it does. I'm gay. Is that a problem?"

We went on as such for ten minutes or so. I don't remember any of the dialogue, except that he couldn't keep up after a round or two and became frustrated. Sid had a stoic expression, which is very common for him after he consumes a lot of alcohol.

As the thug got serious, Suzzy removed her belt (which could best be described as Jon Rambo's gatling gun ammo) and stood between us. I was honored, as I'm sure she could handle herself better in an altercation, considering my 1-1 all time record in fighting.

I wanted to get hurt on this night. Feeling a lot like I do now, I wanted to feel it physically as well. I wasn't afraid of being broken, and this was a man capable of breaking.

The situation died down, minutes passed- Sid decided to leave. We made it as far as the living room.

The black Caucasian and a sidekick met us by the television. There was no 'Suzzy's belt' in this room- for all I knew she was in the bathroom with the seat up. He did the "towering over" gimmick,

Staring up, I did the smart thing...

I knocked his hat off.

The rest is hazy, we ended up in a bedroom with Sid on his back gouging his eyes.

What a friend.

We stormed out like Elvis Costello in '79, as I continued to foolishly antagonize his sidekick.

A few days later I was in jail over the reasons explained on the Jim & Them radio show.
I had the privelage of being arrested, fingerprinted, and mugshotted with a bruised eye.

"A buddy and I were throwing a football."