I remember me and the original #teambro (1), the Rastifarian Youth Organization (RYO) taking the bus from Santa Rosa to San Francisco (The Golden Gate transit) for $2.50 each way. I dunno know how many times and how many shows and for how many years, but it was the standard road trip: enuff money to get into the venue and for beer and weed and that is it. Food was not an option. The difference for this particular trip, now in 2012, is that I don't have any weed (dammmmmm).
Years ago I made a promise to myself that when evah go to see a show that is outta town I'm going to 1) have plenty of money to spend on food, beer and weed and 2) have enuff money to get a hotel and be comfortable so we don't drive home (2hrs) drunk; or if we are together at the time, "runk". At that time my thought was "I'm too old to not do these things." I guess I'm not.
One time in the late 80's, and it might have even been in the super early 90's, I went to the City to see Echo and the Bunnymen. It was awesome. They played Lips Like Sugar and that 'moon' song (I forgot what it is called). My friend that I was going to meet there flaked so I was by myself, well, except for the 5,000 of my closest fellow black eyeliner, black turtle neck, pegged pants, thrift store oversized sport coat wearing, skinny black tie friends.
I gave my extra ticket to a girl in a group of girls that lived in the City. We danced that hi-energy dancing style, the kind that is in the video The Reflex by Duran Duran and that Bruce Springsteen song (I forgot that one also), and I recall that I was pleasantly happy because my eyeliner didn't smear and I made out with that teenage 80's hottie (we exchanged addresses later and if I recall correctly, I wrote her a love letter or two.).
After the show was over I headed to the bus station, but dagnabit, the next bus didn't leave until hours and hours later the next morning. In fact it was closed until the next bus left (WTF). So I wandered the streets of San Francisco to kill time. I was only 19-ish so I couldn't go to a bar, and if I could, I was too scared to try (that Chris was shy and timid, not like Kriss right now). I was brave enuff to try and buy some beer at small-ish liquor stores, but the hardened and street smart proprietors all knew a fresh faced 19 y/o when they saw one...denied. I went to the good 'ol punk rock standard back up plan and asked bums to get me some beer, but I was scared of them and there was only one of me (again, old Chris was timid and shy)...denied.
There was a 24 hour Jack in the Box on Market St. so I went there. I was trying to not look at the clock because I knew that I had hours and hours to kill so I just stared out the big window and watched the nite-time traffic roll by. While I was sitting there a super hot and slutty looking Asian women came in and strolled past me and it was so slow I was like "WTF." She looked at me the way an experienced woman looks at a fresh faced 19 y/o as if saying "mmm, fresh meat." I was all, like WTF and a little weirded out. What could a beautiful woman like this want from lil old me.
Her promenade continued and she walked the length of the Jack in the Box passing me two times. We were the only ones in there, I guess the employees we in the back or something, until a well and over dressed black man came in. He strolled by me also and he also gave me the look of "fresh meat" but it wasn't inviting like hers. He seemed pissed or mad or something and went up to the Asian hottie and said, "Fuck this, this is bullshit, bitch. Theyz ain't no money in here." Without saying anything else, they both left together.
That is the nite I slept in the bathroom of a Jack in the Box sitting on the toilet and that is one of the reasons why, years ago, I decided to travel in comfort, ya know, with plans and money. Like I said earlier...I'm still punk rock. I still go to shows with little money or plans. The difference this time...I'm gonna sleep at my brothers pad.
Wish me luck.
(1) We have always had the team concept with me and my friends. In the 80's we called ourselves the Rastifarian Youth Organization (we were not Rastas, we just smoked a lot of pot). Later we called ourselves The Revolution, later Team Blarp and inbetween probably many other names. currently...we are #teambro.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar