Sean Makes Me Do Bad Things

July 3-4, 2002

Practice seemed tensely long although I was 30 minutes late in arriving. I had just bought my second dream guitar - Fender Telecaster, sunburst finish, maple neck, great action. Fifteen cock rock kicks later we huddled trying to make plans for the evening. Sean was up for anything. Alex had to go home to his wife. Troy was feeling too dirty.

After about 15 minutes of telling Troy he was going to go out with us whether he liked it or not, he agreed. Our destination...Don's Depot, a piano bar on 5th Street.

After a quick shower (alone...get your minds out of the gutter) and change, we jet to pick up Troy. Our night has begun. I put on Guided By Voices.

We enter Don's in search of some of my friends who have already been drinking heavily(Tim, Adam and Crew). We tried to start it off right. A shot of crown, a crown and seven, and a beer. Then, just to bring the pain, tequila and yaeger shots.

Then, for some reason, I don't remember what else we drank...funny how that happens.

Anyway, the people we came to see left. It was getting close to 1:30 a.m. when Sean pulls something that looks like dried fruit from his pocket.

"Take some, they're shrooms."

So of course Troy and I both grab them. Sean, unbeknownst to us, had already taken some. We drink a few more beers and go to pay my tab.

That's when it hits me...I begin to notice everything. I hear a familiar sound...whoom, whooom, whoom(like the sound effects they use in horror movies). A large girl asks me my name. I don't reply, but ask if she has gotten her tickets yet.

"To what?" she replies.

"To the gun show."

I flex.

I finally manage to get the barkeeps attention and scribble my name onto the receipt. Onward and forward. I didn't trust myself to drive, so I gave the keys to Sean. Did I say I didn't trust myself to drive?

He immediately knows where he is going to take us...Southwest Parkway, a stretch of road (usually without cops) full of curves. We head out.

I can't seem to figure out where he is going, but I didn't feel that concerned. I pop in some Belle and Sebastian as a joke (Troy hates B&S), but it just seems to make sense. We have the music all the way up, the windows and moonroof all the way down.

We hit SW Parkway at full tilt (or at least as fast as my 4-banger Civic could take us). We go faster and faster. Taking curves at 90...the wind deafening the music.

We were good.

Sean's eyes were focused on the road, his teeth clenched, lips peeled back in a tense grin, knuckles white with pressure. Troy lay listfully in the back, head resting between the two speakers. I sit shotgun, dancing wildly, laughing...feeling the weight of acceleration.

We hit the end, turn around and do it all again. Sean randomly turns off the headlights to freak Troy out. We finally decide getting off of the road would be best. That and we all have to take a tremendous piss (again, not together).

We stop at Sean's place on Franklin. We relieve ourselves and decide to take it easy. Troy takes a shining to a turntable set-up in Sean's living room. He get's it started and tries to fade breakbeat into 80's music (a talent designated to Craig).

We try to frantically get sound to come out of more than just the headphones. I find a 1/4 inch jack and plug the turntables into an amp...the jam was on.

Troy attacked the turntables with a deft defiance. He would conquer them tonight...even if only in his mind. Sean and I smoked on the porch while Troy burnt wax, later joining us as we laughed into the early hours.

I remember standing up quickly and saying I had Sammy Davis Jr. running thorugh my veins and tap danced tea-for-two. I found olives in the refrigerator, which Troy and I quickly demolished.

Sean attempted to roll a joint out of the skankiest weed I have ever seen. We tried to smoke it to no avail. I re-rolled it into a fatty boombatty. We smoked and watched CNN talking about the anchors we would do and I notice that Troy needs to go home. It's around 4 a.m. and his wife is probably worried.

I drive him home and go back to my place with Sean for more beer and smokes. We sit and talk on the porch for another hour-or-so...Sean with a Dos Equis, me with an Amstel Light (I will never drink this beer again unless under duress).

We talk about politics. I ask him to breakfast (at this point is is 6:30 a.m.).

We sit at Kerby Lane, but have to move because the air vent is pointed at us. The waiter calls us sissies. Sean calls me his boyfriend, but the waiter says he doesn't believe him.

Sean had steak and eggs, I had a baked potato omelette and a short stack of blueberry pancakes. We leave as the normal patron begin to arrive. Sean drops me off and I go to sleep.

Why was this a shining moment?

Not because of the wild partying or the booze...

Because of friends.