We could hear the van pull up from inside Phil’s house. The stereo is that good. Phil started laughing. “Mutherfucker’s jamming to Thriller,” he said. “This is gonna be a good trip.”
Outside Travis jumps out of the van holding a tall cup from Starbucks. “Yo Ray Ray!”
Taylor is packing for his first trip out with us. All week during rehearsals he has jumped to any task that is within his grasp to do. I wonder how long it will be before his enthusiasm is tempered.
I pack my drum cases and luggage and go sit with Phil’s roommate Mike to watch a few minutes of “American Psycho”. Our entourage walks in and out of the room as it plays. Everyone knows the line “Sabrina, don’t just stare at it. Eat it.”
Tracey from Massachusetts and her dog Zeus are along for the first few days of the trip. Zeus is intoxicatingly happy running around sniffing Mike’s dog Duncan and playing with his tennis ball which had the air blown out of it long ago. Tracey has a trailer with Harley Davidson logos that she bought cheap. I give it a once over to see if we might rely on it in the event our trailer is blown apart in a wind tunnel.
Christian Bale has just dropped the chainsaw down the stairwell when Travis walks in.
“We’re a bus, yo.”
This means it’s time to go. But its still two and a half hours before we will cross the Ohio and drive North through Indiana. Wal Mart. Big Lots. Music Go Round. Mc Donalds and Jiffy Lube. While washing the windshield at the gas station I coin our newest phrase: Dookie Juice. It takes it’s rightful place among the ranks of Dewey, Dewger, and Warm Worm Pee.