We pretty much woke up and started playing. No breakfast, no change of pajamas...let's do this. Finally around 2:00, we broke for breakfast. Returning to the game rejuvenated, we attained the last needed charm and blasted off in a crazy space ship to fight "Globulous". After an hour or so, we seemingly defeated him. But, we were just flying around in space, being shot at by micro-lazers. Alana tried to google an answer, but there were no answers to this dilemma in all the internet. Needless to say, I was very disturbed. What a waste of time. My son was just like "well...now we can just start over!". To me, this was not the point of our hours wasted...to just start over. I was now done with this game and shamefully went about my day, knowing that the time spent in front of the video game could not be taken back, and at the same time a Saturday with my boy is absolutely priceless, and we had a blast trying.
Now it was time to get the mail. Oh shit! I got a thing in the mail for federal jury duty! Oh, man...I realize that this probably means I'm going to have to dress up for possibly days on end and work myself into a grumpy fit. The fit wears off and I make arrangements to take Ollie to my parent's for the evening.-Alana is working and my band has a show with Lancaster's "Brom Bones".
My morning of gaming failure had me in a rut for most of the evening. I just couldn't shake it. We had rehearsal an hour before heading into town. For some reason, I was slightly nervous to play, even though we had a good run through our songs.
We got to the venue; Lancaster's "American Bar and Grill" or "The A-bag" as it is often called. My old band played there before and it was a good time. It's a nice place, good food all that jazz. We set up and readied to play in no time. A decent crowd showed up full of old friends. I now had a warm slightly cozy feeling and we prepared to play our 'music'.
With this being a fairly new band, it's been hard to play out locally and not feel like playing in the shadows of former bands. This was the first show where I didn't have that feeling whatsoever. I was more than happy with how we played, especially since Dustin from Brom Bones let me borrow a cymbal that sounded soooo much better than my cracked up piece of shit that I had been using for weeks now at practice.
After our set, we packed the van and socialized while B.B. set up. They kicked in with their standards and the crowd was pleased to hear this band's twenty years experience doing what they do. I posted up in a corner and enjoyed the sounds. Being plenty tired from my day of gaming then jamming, I was content as ever. Chilling. Alana was up front enjoying the music at close range, as we often do, dancing and singing along. Not me...I was just chilling. Content. Oh, no you don't....not for long. Alana INSISTED that I come up with her and enjoy the music at point blank. Ok, ok, I will. That wasn't enough...she wanted me to dance. I just wasn't into it...at all. Sometimes you just don't feel like dancing, right? Well, this was one of those times. No desire at all to dance or act like the crazy asshole I am some times.
She was disappointed and called me out on my lameness...boringness, whatever you wanna call it. I was being a poop. Well, one thing led to another and soon I started coming around. A hand clap here, a foot stop there...next thing I know, I'm standing on a stool stage diving to no one. Just jumping and flopping onto the floor. I hit the switch. 'Dunno exactly why or when it happens but it does. A switch is flipped and then there's no going back. I'm another person...wedding dancer? Class clown? Nelsinator? Hmmmmm....no it's just me getting wound up and letting it fly. Before I knew it I had the same bar stool on the ground, laying on top of it paddling out past the break. Then I could paddle hard to catch a cool swell! I stood up on the laid down stool and emulated surfing untill...OHHHH NOO! Wipe out onto the floor, get up dancing and clapping. Very obviously the crowd "called out for more" and to me at the time, nothing was more important than my dance craze. I considered very little the opinion of anyone, including the band members. When the back up vocals seemed fun to sing, I would grab the microphone from the stand and make up my own versions of vocals. Stage dives to no one. Surfing stools. Hand stands and high kicks. It all made so much sense. I'm like the funnest guy ever! I took the guitarist's spare guitar and paraded around the dance floor, mimicking guitar greatness and taunting the crowd. I spun the guitar around and disrespected it's heritage. At one point I even held it above my head threatening to smash it like a real life rock star! Shortly after, I felt the possibility of a bad vibe and replaced the guitar to it's special stand back stage. "Whew", I thought; "That could have been bad", and kind of told myself to mellow out for the rest of the night. This thought did not last for long. They announced their last song or two and I could feel the crowd's energy wanting more! Ok! I quickly whipped my body down into a handstand. I felt a little resistance on my heel on the way down, but continued. I took the hand stand walking across the floor 'till I flopped down. I got up and danced a little before jumping into the air and landing like a drop kick on the floor. I sensed something. Hmmm. My leg was wet. There was glass on the floor. Hmmmm. My pants were tore. Hmmmm. That's not beer on my pants....oh shit...it's all blood.
At this point, I don't want to make a scene, so I kind of stroll toward the bathroom. Oh shit. I rip my (favorite) pants from the bottom up to my hip to check out my wound and it's bad. Like really bad. It looked like a shark bite; about (ok, small shark) 4" long and 2" deep. It was gaping open about an inch. I had a big wad of paper towel on it to stop the bleeding as the bathroom filled with anxious people. They were all so annoying. Everyone wanted 'to see it' and I grew tired quickly of people's acclaimed army nursing or relative medical profession. I was trying to figure out exactly what to do and had a handful of strangers trying to tell me what that was. I didn't even know my exact emotion until Alana walked through the door. It was then clear. "I'm an asshole and I hate myself" -I thought as I laid eyes on her. Her lower lip was split wide open and a trail of blood caressed her neck. The resistance I felt going into my handstand had been my heel smashing into her glass, forcing it into her lip and teeth, cutting and bashing. It even busted the retainer out of her mouth that had been in for 15+ years. I raged with remorse and insisted that everyone leave the bathroom, except for her and I; yes, even the dude who had to pee really bad. I yelled at everyone and there was no getting through to me. The manager pleaded with us and she too, was told to get out. Still, everyone wanted to 'see it'. We really just wanted to go to the hospital and not take any more annoying advice from drunken strangers. Slowly we made our way outside. We had arranged for a cab ride home earlier and now our plans had changed slightly. Friends Josh and Dana decided to take us to the hospital. My remorse grew rapidly and greatly the entire time. I was an asshole. Nothing anyone said would make me feel differently, including Alana. She couldn't have been happier about the situation. She said things like "it's about time!!!" and "I can't believe this never happened before!?!". We were shuffled to the corner and Josh pulled his whip around. The advice from annoying bitches continued until I was half in the car. The last person to say anything to me was Tabor. He came over and mentioned to me "Dude...that was your greatest performance ever!"-apparently he had witnessed all my dance floor shenanigans and loved it all. His words fell on deaf ears because I knew what kind of shit head I am.
Soooo, we get to the hospital. We have to register and explain that it was a dance move that lead us here. The registration lady was more than nice. My worst fear was that we'd be waiting there to be seen until six am. My fear continued until I was actually being sewn up. Josh and Dana helped to take pix of us in the operating room. Against my discretion, Alana smiled BIG in every photo, making her cut spread wide open. Josh pretty much 'held my hand' the whole time and Dana Alana's.
We got a cab home from the hospital and tried to let everyone know that we were alright. Tabor explained that after we left there was a sort of weird vibe at the "A-bag" from the carnage and departure. -Almost like taking a shit on the floor at a party and leaving really quick. He was kind in pleading for this incident to NOT discourage me from dancing at the next Brom Bones show. Sadly, that's the only thing I thought of since it happened, it that I should never act like that. It's kind of rude and selfish to be that way...BUT so far I'm the only one saying that. Sooo....we'll see what happens? Thanks to every one for being supportive to us! Love ya!;)
