“Man,” Kevin said as we all lay on our beds in the hotel room later, freshly showered and exhausted, “that was crazy.” Luther nodded in agreement, “Such a rush.” He smiled and stuck out a finger, as if to make a point, as he went on, “See, this is why I don’t get musicians that go junkie. Why do drugs when you get all the thrill and none of the pain in your performing?” I wrinkled my eyebrows, not because of the thought of going junkie, but because I understood why people would. “Maybe,” I said, slowly, “I mean, for some people...it wears off. The adrenaline, I mean. The rush. And they get so used to all of it that they feel the need to, you know, get it back.” I shrugged, “And I guess drugs can do that for you.” Luther shook his head, “Maybe, man. But I’ll never get sick of this.” Kevin and Joel murmured in agreement, but I just stared up at the ceiling and didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that I didn’t love performing. I did, as much as Luther did, if not more, and I would probably never get sick of it. It wasn’t overuse so much as the feeling of guilt in my stomach every time I did it. Like I was stealing someone else’s spotlight. Probably the same feeling of guilt I would feel if I ever did do drugs.
“I can’t believe how whacked up our schedule is,” Joel complained as we settled back into the bus for the drive up to Portland. “We live right by Portland and we went up to Seattle, then down to LA, and now we’re going back to Portland.” He threw up his hands, “Why didn’t we just do a show in Portland first?” he asked. Kevin shrugged, “Hey, I don’t do the scheduling. For whatever reason, we couldn’t perform then. But now we can. So...we are.” I laughed and leaned back against the armchair that Joel, for once, wasn’t sitting in. “I’m stoked,” Luther said, grinning, “I get to stock up on more of the good Pepsi before we start the real cross-country touring.” Joel rose an eyebrow at Luther, “Dude,” he said, “Pepsi is same in every state.” Luther shook his head, “Nuh uh, man. No one has Pepsi like that place next to Starbucks. You know, across from the gas station?” Kevin laughed, “Dude. That could be anywhere.” Luther wove him off with his hand, “Whatever. They have sick Pepsi.” Joel rolled his eyes, “Right.”
We migrated around the different seats in the bus like there was some rule against sitting in one spot during the whole drive. I sat on the couch next to mini fridge now, with Joel sitting next to me. We were all holding our classics- Kevin sat in the armchair with a Subway sandwich, Luther was sprawled out on the other couch, spinning a Pepsi can in his hand, and Joel’s fingers were covered in sugar as he sat next to me, whose lips were probably covered in brown from the chocolate Haagen Daaz I was dipping my spoon into. Kevin was leaning was leaning forward in the armchair, engaging into a conversation with Luther with hand motions and all, his eyes widened as he voice rose and fell with the emotion of whatever he was talking about. Luther was laying on the couch, calmly spinning his Pepsi, replying calmly and listening quietly. Joel pulled his legs up on the couch and faced me and I turned my head. He grinned at me and said, “So, when did this addiction to ice cream start?” I shrugged, “I don’t know. Probably about the same time that your addiction to Sour Patches started.” Joel laughed, “I may be addicted, but it’s not as visible as yours. I mean, spoon in your back pocket everywhere you go?” He laughed, “I don’t know another person in the world who does that.” I looked down at the spoon in my hand and didn’t say anything, just dipped it into the ice cream again.
“Portland,” Luther said, stepping out of the bus with a wide smile. He cupped his hand over his mouth and yelled, “I LOVE YOU PORTLAND!” The fans screamed in response and the rest of us raised our fists and whooped in agreement. I stepped out before Joel and Kevin but after Luther this time, experimenting if there was an audible difference in the fan vocalage. There wasn’t. They just screamed extremely loud for me and then kept it up as Joel and Kevin walked out.
© 2010
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