Might As Well Page 6

  (Taper Ted, quick on the draw! I take it that’s not the first time someone has asked you that question.)

  “I vaguely remember the show. It’s dwarfed by the next night when they dropped the Buffalo ‘Dark Star.’ Maybe they dumped the ‘Drums’ and ‘Space’ in Providence because they were conserving energy for the ‘Star.’”

  (See, big bro, I’m learning. Just when I thought things were the same every time, I discover there was a slight variance eleven years ago. Just like the slight variances I observe out here in the parking lot. The last few times I came here I saw Deadheads so stoned out of their gourds that they were trying to use their keys to open the doors of other peoples’ cars. But now that time has passed, different doped-up Deadheads are failing to open the doors of an altogether different series of wrong cars.)

  (Come on Tommy, get your story straight. In some cases it was exactly the same doped-up Deadheads.)

  (And some of the same cars, too. Who can afford new ones with all the shows we’re seeing.)

  (Hey, it only happened to me twice.)

  (Yeah, and sometimes I picked the right car, it was just the wrong key.)

  (Or the wrong objects in lieu of keys. But I’ve seen that happen at the supermarket, too.)

  (With a kiwi?)

  (A key lime pie?)

  (Is this getting too abstract and conceptual for anybody?)

  (Shame on you, you’re a taper at a Grateful Dead show!)

  “And that’s not whistling Winn-Dixie.”

  (Wow, big bro, a joke, of sorts, and one without a Grateful Dead reference.)

  “Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right.”

  (Well now you’ve ruined it. Anyhow, if this is my thirteenth show shouldn’t I be concerned? Isn’t that an unlucky number?)

  (Are you kidding?)

  (Thirteen?)

  (BAKER’S DOZEN!!)

  (Of course…)

  “Hey everyone, we’re finally moving!”

  (I’ll drink to that! I’ll drink to anything at this point.)

  “It’s about time they opened doors. Don’t these people realize how long it takes for me to erect my mic stand these days.”

  (You know—)

  “That was a pre-emptive strike.”

  (Duly noted and well played. You won’t hear me go on about how a few years ago you could get it up much quicker—wait, Ted, why’d you stop moving?)

  “Have you seen Rez?”

  (No, she wandered off.)

  “I just remembered I have to take care of something. I have an extra that I’ve got to unload. The ticket originally designated for your betrothed.”

  (Big bro, let me do it. The last time I went to a show with you this took forever. You went through this noblest of Deadheads test. Just drop it in some stinky guy’s hand. I’ll reimburse you.)

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back. It shouldn’t be hard to find a deserving face.”

  (That’s right, it shouldn’t. Don’t forget. Why don’t you make that an angelic face, remember your little brother is always happy to meet a new friend now that his old friend has slipped town with his expresso machine.)

  “Even if that were the case, I doubt she’ll actually sit with us in the tapers’ section. But yes, statistically, I imagine it’ll go to a woman. The ladies say I’m an old softie.”

  (I wouldn’t broadcast that.)

  How about that girl right there?

  ROBIN

  “I NEED ONE! PLEASE SELL ME YOUR TICKET! PLEASE SELL ME YOUR TICKET!”

  (Okay.)

  “Okay?”

  (You want it?)

  “Yes, yes, yes. Please.”

  (Hey, are you selling tickets?)

  (No, I’m selling this woman a ticket.)

  (You got any more?)

  (No more extras. Sorry.)

  (I’ll give you twice what she’s paying.)

  (No, I’m sorry.)

  (Someone has an extra?)

  (Yeah man, you got an extra?)

  (No, I don’t.)

  (Hey girl, better make sure that guy’s not ripping you off. He could be selling you a fake.)

  “It’s okay, thank you. I know.”

  (It’s a mail order.)

  (I’ve seen fake mail orders.)

  (It’s a taper ticket, is that okay?)

  (People can make fake taper tickets.)

  (I’m not speaking with you, I’m speaking with her. What’s your name?)

  “Robin.”

  (I’m speaking with Robin. It’s a taper ticket. Is that okay with you? If you were to sit down there with us, you’d need to keep a lot of your energy inside your head. But I imagine you just want in the door, right?)

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be twirling in the halls.”

  (That’s why I picked you. Twenty bucks.)

  “No, twenty isn’t fair to you. The price on the ticket is twenty-one-fifty plus there’s handling charges. I’ve mail ordered before…”

  (Fine, twenty-five. Please let’s do this. The taper line’s moving and I have to get in and set up my equipment.)

  “Okay, here you go. Twenty-one…two…three…four…five…and a hug for good luck. Have a good show.”

  (Thanks. Same to you.)

  I HAVE A TICKET!

  I HAVE A TICKET!

  (You better make sure that thing’s real.)

  (Well there’s nothing she can do about it now.)

  (No, no, it’s real. It’s a mail order taper ticket and that guy is definitely a taper. Watch him, he’s heading over to the taper entrance.)

  (Well just because his ticket is legit doesn’t mean that hers is.)

  “I appreciate your concern but I really don’t need this trip right now. Have a good show, everyone.”

  I know that I will because I HAVE A TICKET!

  At least I think I have a ticket.

  No, no, I HAVE A TICKET! I HAVE A TICKET!

  STEVEN

  Shit, I hope those guys don’t show up. They’re gonna act all studly, do their college boy thing… Ooohh look, tie-dyed socks, very cool. I hope I brought at least fifty bucks… Burns and his friends are just gonna ruin it. Whenever those old Willington guys show up at our parties, the girls are all over them… Cool, a Jetsons tour T-shirt. I definitely want a Jetsons tour T-shirt. I don’t care if I have to carry it around, it’s that sweet. The Jetsons dressed as Deadheads. Even Astro is wearing a tie-dye.

  “Excuse me?”

  (What’s up, bro? What can I do you for?)

  “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”

  (That dude, nah, that’s just Mr. Charlie. Cosmic to his friends. We weren’t talking so much as occupying the same space. I’m here for you, bro. Give up your paw.)

  “My paw?”

  (Your phalanges, my friend.)

  Right, right.

  (There you go, that’s what it’s about. Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand!)

  “Right on!”

  Right on!

  (Right on, right on! So what up bro?)

  “I’m just digging that Jetsons shirt.”

  (That Jetsons shirt is there to be dug.)

  “How much?”

  (As much as you want to dig it, bro!)

  “No, how much does it cost?”

  (Right on, right on! Sorry bro, I was caught up in another time’s forgotten place.)

  “’Franklin’s Tower.’”

  (There hangs a bell. It can ring, turn night to day, ring like fire when you lose your way…)

  I love this guy! I love this song! I love the lot!

  “Roll away…”

  (THE DEW!)

&nb
sp; (Hey, Steven!)

  Crap.

  “So how much for the shirt?”

  (Ten.)

  “I’ll take one. It’s primo.”

  (Thanks, bro. A friend of mine at UVM designed it. Then he couldn’t come on tour so I’m out here doing him a solid. Just breathing it all in. You dig?)

  “I dig. Do you have it in medium?”

  (Steven!)

  (Ummm, no. Sorry, I don’t have any more mediums on me. I have a bunch back in my vehicle, though. Do you want to follow me there?)

  (Hey, Steven!)

  “Well…”

  (Saint Steven, get over here!)

  (Are those your buds yelling for you? ‘Saint Stephen,’ sweet, sweet song, bro.)

  (Yeah but my name’s spelled differently, with a V.)

  (Well Steven with a V, how about if I run to the car and meet you back here, pronto?)

  “Yeah, that would be sweet.”

  (Little Steven, come over here!)

  “Okay, okay, I’m here.”

  (What were you doing?)

  “Buying a T-shirt.”

  (I thought we told you—)

  “Well I don’t mind carrying it around. It’s got the Jetsons dressed up like Deadheads.”

  (Alright, fine. Whatever. Just come on over alongside this bus. Nate’s making a deal.)

  “Okay, okay, here I am…”

  (So you’re sure these are good?)

  (Yeah, I’ve taken ’em myself. Guaranteed.)

  (Okay, okay. How much a hit?)

  (How many do you want?)

  (Ten.)

  (Five bucks a dose.)

  (That sounds fair.)

  (Hells yeah, it’s fair. Come over here beside the truck, just one of you. The one with the cash.)

  “Do you have enough dough, Nate?”

  (Yeah, don’t sweat it. We’ll square it later.)

  Well that’s it, we’ve done it, we’ve found acid. We’re buying acid. We’re going to take acid.

  Alright Steve-o, get your shit together, it’ll be cool. It’s not like you’ve never taken it before—okay, okay you didn’t get off that time and it was only half of a half-hit after you tore it up. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you took it. And if you took it once, you can take it again.

  (Nate, man, we’re styling now. What do they look like? Dancing skellies?)

  (No, some old bald dude with a birth mark.)

  (Timothy Leary?)

  (Is he a bald dude with a birthmark?)

  (You tell me.)

  “Let me see… That’s Gorbachev.”

  (So these are communist doses. Is that a good thing?)

  “It’s not a bad thing. Unless the doses are sabotaged like the exploding cigars we keep giving to Castro.”

  (Ha! Word to the wise!)

  (So let’s take ’em.)

  (Okay, okay. Hold on. Let me pull out my Swiss Army knife. Man, my parents had no idea what was up when they bought me this. Mini scissors to cut the doses and a pair of tweezers to hold them while I’m doing the snipping. Okay, here we go. Zack, one for you. Jason, one for you. And last but certainly least, at his FIRST DEAD SHOW, the Virgin Steven Reynolds.)

  No shit it’s really happening. Here I am in the Grateful Dead lot, I’m standing in Shakedown Street, about to drop a tab of acid. I’m getting a rush just thinking about it. This is cool, this is definitely cool. There’s nothing scary about it at all. The paper even has the Soviet leader on it which makes it pretty goofy. So here I go… On the tongue… Alright, that’s it. Can’t even taste it. That’s the thing about acid, I guess. It’s this little piece of paper and you don’t imagine it can do anything to you and then look out!

  (Do you usually swallow your paper or spit it out?)

  (I used to swallow but now I spit—)

  (I think that’s another conversation for the two of you boys best left to the privacy of your bedroom.)

  (—because I swear at the Hartford shows last spring I swallowed the paper and it caught in the back of my throat and fucked with my voice box or something. I had laryngitis for like a week.)

  (Yeah, I remember that. But are you sure it was the acid? You told me that you walked around for an hour in the rain after the show looking for your car.)

  “Apparently that’s something of a theme in your life.”

  (Like I say, I gotta be me. But if was you, I still wouldn’t swallow.)

  “I just did.”

  (Steven, old man, it really doesn’t matter. I believe we are done there. It’s time to head in.)

  “Wait. I thought you said we could grab something to eat. And some guy went to his car to get me a T-shirt.”

  (Look it’s getting late. You already have something to eat. You have Alex’s meat thing and I don’t mean that metaphorically.)

  (Yeah, maybe it’ll bring you good luck with Shannon and I don’t mean that metaphorically. Or maybe I do, I’m not sure. You’re the wordsmith.)

  (Listen, we gotta motor. The line outside is real slow. If you’re still hungry after the meat thing you can grab something inside. And like I said before, you can get a shirt after the show. Is that cool with everyone? Jason?)

  (Dig.)

  (Zack?)

  (Right on.)

  (Alright, let’s do it.)

  “Yeah but this guy—”

  (Steven man, come on. You can get a shirt after the show, I promise. Okay?)

  “But I told him—”

  (Well, I told Jerry you’d be in there for your first show before the show actually started.)

  (Yeah, Steven, trust us on this, it’s a fustercluck trying to get in.)

  (Listen, you’ll be hurting our feelings but if want to meet us inside that’s fine, you’re a big boy…)

  “Well that Jetsons shirt is sweet…”

  (So is that Shannon Phelps? Don’t sweat it. Hopefully you’ll be able to find us if we don’t actually sit in our seats. We’ll tell her that you blew her off for Astrid.)

  (Astro.)

  Crap.

  (That Jane is a hottie.)

  (Don’t you mean June.)

  (I think he means Judy.)

  (No, I mean Jane. I’ve got a thing for redheads.)

  (Gentlemen, lock up your mothers.)

  (Well I’ve got a thing for Deadheads. Deadheads standing in line, so let’s walk over and make my fantasy a reality. What’s your fantasy, Little Steven? Are coming with us?)

  “I am…”

  (Of course you are.)

  RANDY

  (Shit Rand, where have you been?)

  “Eddie, I got fucked.”

  (Seriously? I’ve been told these Deadhead chicks put out but you got laid?)

  “No man fucked—screwed—my fucking car broke down. No, not my car, freaking Rennick’s car.”

  (Well Mack’s looking for you. His disposition is less than cheery.)

  “Yeah, yeah I saw him. He fired me.”

  (Coach’ll kill you.)

  “Not if I kill him first.”

  (Yeah, right.)

  “Nah, I figure if I do a good job tonight and then show up tomorrow, maybe Mack will let it slide.”

  (Good luck with that. You got the stuff for later?)

  “It’s in my backpack. I need to find Davis first.”

  (That’s my crew. Davis went to take a crap. He’ll be right back. Who’d you work for last night?)

  “I don’t know, some guy with a name.”

  (Really that’s quite the eidetic memory you have there.)

  “You know that’s a myth right?”

  (Marilu Henner, the fetching Elaine Nardo from Taxi has eidetic memory so I know it’s not a myth, because as you as well aware, Nardo…)

  “
Has knobs. Yes, I’ve seen them. I’m not sure why that’s germane but I’ll concur. But even if I can’t quite name any of the chimps who purportedly served as my supervisors last night, I can still memorize a playbook fourteen times faster than you. You see, I had no single boss last night. I kept getting bounced around like Griffin Dunne in After Hours.”

  (Be careful you don’t get bounced around like Griffin Dunne in Johnny Dangerously.)

  “I never saw that one.”

  (Amy Heckerling. It was her follow-up to Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You never saw that one? Guess who’s in it? Marilu Henner and her knobs.)

  “No sale. I’m just not a Joe Piscopo guy.”

  (Talent squandered.)

  “You’re halfway right.”

  ZEB

  (I’m sorry, I wish we could help you.)

  “It’s alright, brother, I understand. You’re right on helping me as it is. Thank you for your patronage.”

  (Hey, thanks for selling us the beers. Say, if you don’t mind me asking…)

  Awww, not the dope question. Not from the little locals.

  (How many shows have you been to?)

  Right on.

  “No, I don’t mind answering that one. If I get in tonight, it’ll be my sixty-third soiree with the Boys.”

  (Whoa, that’s cool. That’s a lot of shows.)

  “Who are the Grateful Dead and why do they keep following me.”

  (Yeah! Hey and sorry we couldn’t help you out with tickets.)

  (Yeah but if we see you tomorrow and you need one—)

  “Wait, you have an extra for tomorrow?”

  (Yeah, one of our buddies was grounded—)

  “Do you have it with you?”

  (I think it’s over in the car. Right, Keith?)

  (It’s in there. Our friend Max got grounded so his mom made me go to his house and take his tickets. We sold his ticket for tonight to our other friend who’s over there looking at T-shirts because he was too chicken to buy a beer from you. He’s not coming tomorrow, he’s definitely not coming tomorrow, so we’re gonna sell it then.)

  “Would you mind selling it now, bro?”

  (You don’t have a ticket for tomorrow?)

  “No, I’m—well no, I don’t but that’s not it. I’ll take a tomorrow if I have to but with a little legwork I can trade it for a tonight.”

  (Really? You think you can do that?)