Back in the mid-nineties I won this radio contest for an autographed guitar from the radio friendly, guitar driven band, Collective Soul. The wife and I arrived at the venue a few hours early and ended up waiting backstage to meet the band. Sitting across from us was a mother and her ten year old son, who had a bandage on his arm and staples in his scalp line. He was one of those kids who had zero athleticism, the kind of kid who strikes out at tee-ball. Skinny, big ears, glasses, buck-teeth, you get the idea. Well apparently he had been mauled by a dog and through some welfare version of Make-a-Wish he was afforded the opportunity to meet his favorite band.
Because I’m an asshole and have very little empathy for goofy kids who get eaten by dogs, I sat there and feigned concern, while they told their story to anyone who would listen. Finally, the band was ready to meet us, so we went into the main concert area as they were finishing up their sound check. “Whoooaaaaaooooaaoooooaaaa heaven let your light shine down….” One by one I made small talk with each member the band and had them sharpie up my new guitar. Then it happened.
As I was getting my last autograph, I blindly swung the guitar around and cracked this kid right in the fucking head. I’m pretty sure he took a tuning peg to one of his staples. Wanna get away? Everyone gasps, my heart falls into my shoes, and his mother looks me in the eye and says “Don’t worry about it, he’s so hopped up on drugs he probably didn’t feel a thing.” I wanted to just give this kid my guitar on the spot, but in addition to being heartless, I am also selfish, so I just apologized profusely and quickly made my way out to the car.
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to dress Maggie up as a steak and have her antagonize the Rottweiler down the street so that I, I mean, so that she can meet her favorite progressive rock band, Rush.
1 comment:
U knew that the Rush comment would get a comment out of me! LOL Go Pens!
-Chid
Post a Comment