A List of Best Intentions

The party was awesome. It started at six PM and wouldn’t end until well into the night. That is, unless Y2K worked its evil magic and killed all the power.

And of course, there were issues concerning my parents. It was a New Year’s Party – they’d be awake when the ball in Times Square was being dropped, and it would have been really weird if I weren’t up and running with them to watch it all. So during the little meeting Cody and me and I Am You Are had, we hatched an idea.

Jon came to my house later on. And before I go on, let me say that he was a majorly good influence. He never cussed. He always went to church. He never lost his head. (Basically, he was the complete opposite of Alyssa, his twin sister.) So he was definitely the best person to talk a parent into letting their little delinquent go to a party.

And for God’s sake, it worked.

Sure, Mom stared us both down for a really long time. He stayed cool and told pretty much everything about the party: they’d be playing for the latter half; another local band Matchboxingmatch would be opening. There’d be no alcohol – adults would be there, and he wasn’t just counting their temporary roadie.

Also, since I’d be playing, I’d technically be a part of the crew…that meant that I’d get a free “1999 – I Am You Are New Years House Party: Rock Out Before We Black Out” t-shirt.

I guess what Robert said earlier that day was catchy enough to make it onto a shirt.

Any way you slice it, Mom let me go. I had to have been the happiest kid on the planet!

The party started at six in the evening on New Year’s Eve. Since I was actually playing, I had to get there early, and my dad drove me to Bruce’s house, where I’d be – a great place for a party, seeing as how he was pretty much loaded.

A whole assload of cars were parked outside, so dad just dropped me off and I took my guitar in. A short hairy fella in a golf cap emerged from one of the trucks in the driveway and looked me over for a second.

“You Kevin?” he asked.

I didn’t see his mouth move through his beard, so I nodded anyway. “How’d you know?”

“Robert said to look for a kid in a stupid hat.”

I cocked my eyebrows. “Don’t judge, man.”

He snorted, changing the subject. “What kinda guitar do you have?”

“Uh… a Weavy.”

“Better cross your fingers it don’t explode when I hook it up,” he smirked. “Only got Bender amps.”

I didn’t get the joke, but I laughed anyway. (I still don’t get it.)

Alyssa saw us coming and opened the front door for us. She had on the same shirt as the sound guy – the 1999 House Party one. “Yo Kev!” she greeted, giving me a high-five.

“Hey Alyssa,” I said back.

She turned around when she heard her name called from inside the house. The back of the shirts said, “We Will Survive.”

“Cool shirts,” I added. She smiled and snapped her fingers in realization.

“We got one for you. Just wait a sec…”

Alyssa went into another room and came back holding another shirt. She gave it to me and I put it on over the striped one I was already wearing.

“Snazzy,” she smiled, giving a thumbs-up.

When she left, I felt a hand slap my back. I whirled around suddenly and saw Chad, the dyed-green-haired singer for the local ska band Matchboxingmatch, who was going on first. They were a few years older than all of us, fresh outta high school and fresh into the world around ‘em.

“Slater!” he hooted. I didn’t even know him.

“Hey,” I waved a bit shyly.

“So how’d that list go?” he asked expectantly.

I shrugged. “I kinda gave it up.”

“Aw, really? Dude, that’s gnarly. Well, you know you kinda started a thing here, right?”

I shook my head; it was news to me.

“Yeah! A ton of kids made lists like you did. Of course, nobody ended up in jail, but…”

I laughed along. I kinda knew I was stupid, so I wasn’t offended anymore.

“You prob’ly made yourself a Tanglewood prodigy this year. Way cool, bro.”

It wasn’t much, and it sure didn’t help to be reminded of my past mistakes, but it was kinda cool to hear that coming from a stranger. I was never lookin’ to get approval from people I didn’t know, though I didn’t dread it.

“Okay, people! Pick it up! We got thirty minutes until the party starts!” the roadie/sound tech announced.

“Cool it Justin, we’re almost ready!” Robert shouted from behind his drum set upstairs. I guess the platform above our heads was gonna be the “stage.”

Chad trotted up the stairs and adjusted the mic. With the sound tech’s OK he did some tests with the rest of Matchboxingmatch, the horn section and all. It was almost time…

Everybody was ready when six o’ clock rounded the corner. And when the first guests set foot in the door, the party was officially started.

Matchboxingmatch put on one hell of a show. Really, what else would you expect from a seven-piece local ska band that had been together since junior high?