Nothing Left To Do But Smile, Smile, Smile

It has almost been two years since I was asked to leave my home. January 16, 2015 was the day of my father’s 69th. birthday. After celebrating with him and his wife at the Olive Garden, for lunch. I decided to go out to catch some live music by JCDC at Blueprint. A restaurant and bar in Westminster, Massachusetts that serves “heady” brews and incredible steaks. Little did I know, the night would become so sexually charged. I have not been with anyone since my ex.

When I go out I try to keep an open mind, but I rarely try make things happen. Lately I’ve been catching live shows in local bars while flying solo. Or, I attend with a friend or meet up with a small group of like-minded folks who enjoy drinking and dancing to classic rock.

This night was special; the reunion dates for The Grateful Dead’s shows in July were announced. Soldier Field in Chicago, Illinois is going to be the epicenter of this summer’s “hippie-quake.” Trey Anastasio is filling in as the lead guitarist for the Dead. Jerry can never be replaced. Nonetheless, if one is into the jamband scene, this is a major union of two incredible bands (Grateful Dead and Phish).

It added to the energy inside of Blueprint. Many patrons spoke of their hopes of defying odds. Some were praying to the mail-order ticket gods to bestow their grace upon them. Me, I sat, tucked in a corner, drinking an American Beauty. It’s a beer made with granola; inspired by the members of the Grateful Dead. This year’s bottle is emblazoned with a red, dancing, bear immediately recognizable to fans. It was my “nod” to Jerry and the boys.

My plan was to drink one and only one. The 9% ABV makes this a strong one. I was responsible for getting myself home in one piece. As I was watching the place fill in with friends and fans of JCDC. I was seated next to three ladies. I was not close enough to hear every word being said. However, the line of conversation I did overhear was entertaining.

The waitress asked one of the ladies over the din of the crowd, “Another Jagger-bomb?”

“Nah, two’s enough,” replied the long-haired one sitting opposite from me at the next table.

“So far, that’s to quote of the night,” I interjected. The other two at the table were silent, I was impressed by their colorful tattoos.

The comment didn’t get huge laughs, but I let them know I was listening. Soon after, the Jagger-bomb drinker addressed me:

“Hey, you must be loving our conversation: I’m talking about giving handjobs to other chicks. Seeing that you’re a dude.”

I didn’t miss a beat, all I could say in response was “It’s all good!” Before things could get awkward, two friends arrived and sat down at my table. We exchanged greetings and I let them try sips of my beer. As if by magic, or a stroke of luck, a table opened in front of the band. My friends moved quickly to snatch the seats before anybody else was able. I worked my way onto my feet and grabbed my crutches. Before I joined Paul and his girl, I spoke to the Jagger-bomb drinker. With a smile I said, “I just wanted to let you know I’m not moving because I’m offended.”

As Dan and Jim, the band members, finished setting up the lighting rig in the far corner of the dining room, I stood next to Paul. He was out of his wheelchair and leaning on part of the wall close to the door. I had to stand close because Paul’s voice is difficult to hear well in a crowded room. We talked about the Grateful Dead announcement and the possible tunes that JCDC could open with. “Truckin’” kicked off the set. It was a fitting cover. Everybody was in the groove early. I stayed on my crutches for quite some time. Greeting more friends as they filtered in. As Paul’s girlfriend slipped out to field a phone call, I asked him her name. I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t catch what he said.

When Derek arrived, he bought a round for our table. I warned him that my drink was expensive. His response was: “A $15 beer is no big deal. I’d buy them for you all night!” Next thing I knew…enter American Beauty number two. When I tried to buy Derek a drink in return, he acted as if that would be an insult.

I watched Jim and Dan smile from ear to ear as they played. I was rocking to the beat when a beautiful girl worked her way over next to me. As she held her PBR tall we exchanged some small talk. The she gave me a soft kiss “hello” on the cheek Moments later, she said, “You need to sit!” At first, I really didn’t pay the statement any mind. Then a chair appeared before me and I followed orders.

The tall girl knelt in front of me and I nearly melted. Usually, I’m the type of guy who remembers the music in moments like these, but I’m at loss. Thinking quickly, I asked her if she was a beer fan and gave her a hit off of my bottle. She said something like, “Yummy.” And straddled my lap. Her long, black, curls cascaded down her back and tickled my nose. She positioned her ass on my quads and began grinding. She was shaking, bumping and slithering along with the music.

I was doing my best to control my excitement. I was repeating the mantra, “Think about baseball…think about baseball. Just then, she stole my Phish cap off of my head and placed it on hers. I attempted to speak to her and managed to run my fingers through her hair a little. As the music slowed a bit, a guy I’ve seen at other shows here, struck a conversation with my new friend. I was a bit annoyed with him. He was horning in on my moment.

Instinct took over and I placed my hands on her hips as she gyrated harder. She was speaking with another guy. Nonetheless, her body was singing a whole different song to mine. Paul’s girlfriend was motioning to me and shooting me looks as if to say, “What’s up with this?” I was just along for the ride. I could not believe this was happening in public, in the company of friends.

When the girl’s “Wild ride” was over I asked her name she told me it was Stephanie. Without knowing what to say, I sat stunned for a moment. Another girl handed me back my cap. Then Stephanie asked, “Are you coming with me? Or, are you staying here?”

This kind of stuff never happens to me. I simply asked her to give me a hand out of the chair. As she attempted to assist me my feet slid and my back and head slammed onto the hardwood floor. Before I could react, the waitress asked Stephanie to leave. She was ejected and left without protest. I was too slow to go after her.

At set break, Jim asked me why I was still inside. A nurse friend named, Karen said, “If you would have left with her, you’d probably be dead.”

As Derek lifted me a second time, I hit my head again. I was not in pain. I was finally set into a chair and Derek summed the evening up by saying, “Yeah, but you would’ve died with a smile on your face!”