Sundae

Ah.

The Air and Water Show.

A chance for thousands of
idiots to get together and clog
the expressways with their SUVs
to catch a glimpse of America
whipping out its big military dick.

Delightful.

A young lady named Kelly
asked me last night why
I never write about our
show experiences at Harry's in Arlington Heights.

I didn't know what to tell her.

I think I don't write about Harry's,
because the truth is, I hate it.

I don't hate all the people,
and I certainly don't hate you, Kelly.
But, I do hate a good number of them.

Hate is a strong word,
despise might work better.

Let's break them down,
how about the douchebag who works
there who tells me "you better go help your wife with the equipment
outside"

I think he's referring to Kristen.

"We're not married", I say.

"Oh, why aren't you married yet?"

"I don't know, why aren't YOU married yet?"

Then he has the awesomeness to go outside
and tell Kristen, "He's going to propose to you tonight"

That doesn't even make any sense.
In my book, that's just a douchebag thing to say and do.

And you have to see him and hear him to get the full picture.
He is the kind of guy who will try to tell you about his
life when you're carrying heavy things, and then say things like,
"really half-assed show tonight, Pete"

Great guy.

Or, there's the drunk moron who dropped a chair on my head.
He was insistent on helping me carry gear,
he was obviously drunk, and then him and his friends
decided it would be much better to carry a table
with chairs on it over me while I was loading up a bag,
of course, being drunk, they wobbled, and a chair
fell directly on my head.

Thanks for the help, fellas.

Maybe I despise them because they don't give a fuck,
and it's not their fault, they are just out to drink at a bar.
They didn't buy tickets to see a show, they probably
didn't even want to see a show.

It's my fault, for taking gigs at stupid bars like that.
Bars that want music from 9:30 to 1:30.
That's longer than a fucking movie, you idiots.
Who wants to listen to music that long?

Nobody, so nobody listens.

We bullshit and take big breaks,
and lose the crowd, and nobody pays
attention, and nobody gives a fuck,
and I might as well be playing
Cat Stevens on the hammer dulcimer.

But you know what? It's my fault.

I take the gigs because they pay us
lots of money.

And we need money to keep
playing music and trying to get better gigs.

But, my patience is pretty much done.

I think you saw the last show at Harry's last night.

Do you have any idea how much bullshit
I had to go through to get them to agree to
turn off their fourteen TVs? a lot of bullshit.

They still refused to turn off the TVs behind the bar,
because, and I quote, "of the degenerate gamblers who come in to watch
sports"

Two problems, who the fuck caters to self-professed degenerate gamblers?
Is that your target clientele?

And.... do you remember what was on the TVs behind the bar last night?
I do, because it was blaring in my eyes for 3 hours,
they were showing a Mexican soap opera and the X-games.
I don't know what kind of high-stakes are getting thrown
down on BMX ram jumps, but I'm guessing that's for the true degenerates.

Forgive me for complaining,
I know, and I'll say it again,
its my fault for taking gigs
that I know I hate, because I need the money.

It's one step towards prostitution.

But you ask why I never write about it,
and there are some of the reasons why.

I'd much rather write about the show
at the Delta Sigma Phi house in Normal.

We played outside, under an awning,
to an incredible crowd of awesome, excited,
screaming fans who knew songs, and had fun.
They basically saved the show, because we were
very tired, and hot, and sweaty, and if wasn't for
their energy, we might have bombed.

Compare that to the fucking idiots who
ask me after four original songs, with obvious
comedy undertones, if I know any Beatles.

Or, the wonder-douche who asked me,
"hey... you're in the band... nice... is it cool
if my friend plays a song?"

What the hell are you thinking?

Is it cool if I go into a barbershop
and ask, "hey... you mind if I cut this next guy?"

It was a rough night,
but now I've got fresh
groceries with all the money I made,
so I can sit and listen to the relaxing sounds
of F-16's screeching over my apartment.

-p