Heroes Exist (I'm Just Not One of Them)
FOURTEEN
As impossible as it seems, life went on. Two weeks after It, we had a gig scheduled and since the location hadn’t been destroyed and Neil thought people needed to be distracted, the booking held. Maybe it would have been best if some other band had played, instead of us, but we were stupid and we still played.
Neil was our main vocalist and the man with the plan, Benni could play the drums well enough to make your granny head bang, Heather played bass and I played guitar. I wish sometimes I’d just backed out. I should have. Then maybe nothing would’ve gone wrong. Neil’s passable at bass and Heather could have taken my spot, easy. Hell, why the band even keeps me around is a mystery, especially now…
My memories of that gig are a little fuzzy, but I know enough and the news did well enough to fill in the blanks.
We were halfway through our set and the crowd was really starting to ease into the rhythm. People were just about to forget what had happened when someone in the crowd broke rank. Someone threw a rock and, either they had excellent aim or were close or were just lucky, they hit me right in the head.
Here’s where things get really blurry. I remember that Benni was the first to respond, if only by stopping, and then people started screaming and security converged on the stone thrower, plowing through the crowd with ease. I dropped my guitar and plectrum in shock and pain. Blood flowed down the side of my head. I remember standing there for a moment, my prized guitar at my feet and blood trickling down to stain my shirt collar and get in my eyes, and thinking, “What’s the difference between death and execution? Media coverage.”
Then, nothing. Passed out, from what I read. (Extra, Extra, Guitarist Gets Stoned!)
Woke up in a hospital. Benni made some stupid crack about frequent flier miles and Heather asked if I was high enough to smell colors yet. Neil wasn’t there. He was busy talking to pesky reporters and playing interference. He’s a good guy. I don’t deserve a friend like him.
After that display, needless to say we stopped playing. Didn’t matter how much was offered or how much security detail there was, Neil refused to go back on stage. I guess he never realized how much I’d deserved it.
Neil was our main vocalist and the man with the plan, Benni could play the drums well enough to make your granny head bang, Heather played bass and I played guitar. I wish sometimes I’d just backed out. I should have. Then maybe nothing would’ve gone wrong. Neil’s passable at bass and Heather could have taken my spot, easy. Hell, why the band even keeps me around is a mystery, especially now…
My memories of that gig are a little fuzzy, but I know enough and the news did well enough to fill in the blanks.
We were halfway through our set and the crowd was really starting to ease into the rhythm. People were just about to forget what had happened when someone in the crowd broke rank. Someone threw a rock and, either they had excellent aim or were close or were just lucky, they hit me right in the head.
Here’s where things get really blurry. I remember that Benni was the first to respond, if only by stopping, and then people started screaming and security converged on the stone thrower, plowing through the crowd with ease. I dropped my guitar and plectrum in shock and pain. Blood flowed down the side of my head. I remember standing there for a moment, my prized guitar at my feet and blood trickling down to stain my shirt collar and get in my eyes, and thinking, “What’s the difference between death and execution? Media coverage.”
Then, nothing. Passed out, from what I read. (Extra, Extra, Guitarist Gets Stoned!)
Woke up in a hospital. Benni made some stupid crack about frequent flier miles and Heather asked if I was high enough to smell colors yet. Neil wasn’t there. He was busy talking to pesky reporters and playing interference. He’s a good guy. I don’t deserve a friend like him.
After that display, needless to say we stopped playing. Didn’t matter how much was offered or how much security detail there was, Neil refused to go back on stage. I guess he never realized how much I’d deserved it.