I really despise name droppers. Who are you trying to impress by dropping all the names of famous people you hung out with? I mean, really? REALLY??? Nobody cares about your one time with the cool people. If you have to reiterate that to random strangers you are king of all posers.
Now that I've got that out of the way, back to my name dropping. I mentioned I was a walking contradiction, right? No? Oh, well I'll explain that another time...
It was a warm summer night. My coworkers from the IT Help Desk and I had decided to take a trip to the next state over and watch the Cult in concert at a pretty good sized venue. We all had been fans of their music for a while, and thought it would be fun to check it out live. Sure it had been like 20+ years since they started their music, but aging rockers are like a good bottle of scotch. The older they get, the bigger the ass kicking they provide.
We're walking down the avenue, casually passing the bars and a whole spectrum of what appears to be post-punk goth fans waiting to enter into the venue. There is still an hour before the show starts, so we are looking for a place to hang out in the interim. Setting our sights on an Irish bar at the corner, we start making our way to the door. Just in front of the bar, and a little past the venue doors, we notice four ginormous buses. I'm thinking, "Dang, there are a lot of bachelor parties here!" Yeah, I was 24 years old then and things didn't click too quickly... the last bus had a tall surly guy standing outside of the door. Soliciting girls to go inside seemed to be his only job. As we passed him, of course he hits us up to come inside...
Strange man: "Hey, you girls want to hang out on the bus?"
Suddenly my mind flashes to those after school specials I saw so many of when I was in high school. You know the ones where there is that creepy guy in a coat waiting by the school yard? Offering candy or a puppy to that emotionally withdrawn kid? I'm convinced this guy is going to violate me, and then chop me up into pieces to be disposed of on his tour bus by way of the porto-toilet flush. Although, he's not wearing a coat and has no puppy or lollipops to dispense. He actually looks as if he's a hired hand, and doesn't even have gum or tick tacs for that matter. But I digress... exchanging glances, my coworkers and I cock our heads back in rejecting laughter. "Um, yeeeeeaaaaah. Tempting, but no." We respond, as if he had just asked us if we would like being chopped into pieces and disposed of in random lakes. An hour later, we emerge from the Irish pub - totally ready for a rocking show.
The Cult performed a wicked concert that night. Old and young alike, we all were rocking our heads in unison to "Fire Woman", "Edie", "She Sells Sanctuary", etc. It was killer. Even after being around all this time, The Cult showed they haven't skipped a beat and could still deliver one hell of a performance. At this point, it had been about four hours since the pre-show tour bus sighting. Of course during the show we had tossed back a few beers... so we're all feeling pretty awesome and like the world is our oyster. We say our goodbyes to the old punk-goth dude that stood next to us through the performance, and nod our heads in understanding that we all just shared a moment of "rock" in there. Still in the afterglow of the concert, we turn our heads to see that the same guy is still standing at the front of the bus soliciting chicks. What is this guy's deal?? Now, he's peaked our interest and we HAVE to find out what the hell all these buses are about. The five of us head over to the strange non-coat wearing man.
Me: "Hey, what's your deal?... and what's inside there?" I ask the man.
Strange man: "I can't say out here, but if you want to come in, your invited."
Me: "..." I look at my friends, who seem to give me that look like, 'Hey there's five of us, and isn't there safety in numbers or something?'
Me: "Well, he doesn't have candy or a strange coat...?" "Are you hiding dead bodies in there?"
Strange man: "No. But I like your humor..."
Me: "Ha, ha! Who said I'm joking?"
We decided, ah screw it - we'll make our way into the bus. All the while I'm thinking... Am I being adventurous?, or being an idiot and heading into a slaughter house? Ahhh, how beer can clarify the decision making process! As soon as we walk inside I immediately turn to my girlfriends, and simultaneously our jaws drop to the floor in shock.
You're thinking... What??
Naked creepy men?
Nope... I was smack in front of the members of the same band I just paid money to see. There was the bass guitarist, Billy Morrison right next to me offering me a beer. Nice. This guy is in head to toe black, with full sleeve tattoos covering both arms (and I believe some on his neck too). Jet Black hair in spikes, and if memory serves - a ring in his nose. He looked like Keith Richards in his early twenties. I instantly ask to use the restroom, and proceed to call everyone on my phone contact list whispering, "DUDE!!! I'M ON THE TOUR BUS!!!!" The collective thought amongst my peers was: Let's try not to look like the geeks we are, and act casual. Trying not to sound like a loser, I ask, "So, what do you guys listen to when you're not playing?" Billy Morrison whips out a Green Day disc and starts to play it over the speakers. The uncomfortable silence is broken when all of a sudden a sketchy woman at least 15 years my senior comes rushing out of the back of the bus. A disturbed look on her face, she sprints toward the door. Immediately following her was the lead singer of the band. He seemed unfazed. MAYBE going into the back of a rock band tour bus wasn't that great of an idea?? Hmmm??? I doubt he was expecting to play duck duck goose. Honestly with the highway miles on this chick I doubt that this was the first bad decision she has made. Meanwhile, Billy is staring at me with a really strange glare in his eye. Like he's been hypnotized and his eyes have lost the ability to follow a moving object. He's asking me questions, and my responses (and inner dialogue) went something like this:
Billy: "Will you be my girlfriend? You can go on tour with me, and stay on the bus."
Now... if you looked more like Billy Idol, I would have been more inclined to reply with an emphatic yes... but you look more like Keith Richards. I'm not really into the pale, druggie, looking older than you should look.
Me: "Aww... that's really sweet, but I have a job and I really can't do something like that."
Thanks, but I prefer my body to stay unviolated, and in one piece. I really don't prefer to sleep in suitcases, or at the bottom of any large body of water for that matter.
Billy: "Wow, I can't believe you are computer chicks!"
Me (thinking to myself): Thanks for insulting my intelligence. This is the point in conversation where I find you as appealing as a bikini wax with fly paper. I'm going to leave now and watch non-stop marathons of Bob Ross because that's way more intriguing than being here with you.
Truth be told, after the woman went running out of the back is really where the conversation took a turning point anyway. We all said our goodbyes, and headed out of the tour bus. Despite the beer my quick wit was still intact, and I immediately request that all the band members sign their play list for me. Quite frankly I was surprised they didn't tell me to bugger off, but they happily signed away. I still have that play list today.
Considering we didn't go anywhere, that was one hell of a ride, and will go down in the books as my very cool moment with the cool people.