by Breuer, Jim
We made it to our campsite and pulled into our spot. This was the only one left and it was right next to the toilets. And when you go to one of these places (a campsite, not toilets) you have to back into your spot. I had never driven the RV more than three feet in reverse before, and it took me about a half hour to do a mediocre job of parking. By the time we got in place, a sizable crowd had gathered. And the girls were yelling that they wanted to finally get out of the RV.
“I wanna ride my Spider-Man bike!” Dorianne said. “I’m just going to jump out, okay? We’re already in the parking lot!”
“Where are the vending machines?” Kelsey asked.
“I’m getting out first, ’cause I’m oldest!” Gabrielle fired back. Then they all raced to the door, pushing and grabbing at each other.
“It’s too dark for bikes,” I explained. “We’re just going to chill out and get some fresh air.”
At first I thought being close to the toilets would be a great thing due to the convenience. But people were going in and out of them 24/7. And when all the parents went to sleep for the night, guess where the teenagers’ dope-smoking and booze-guzzling hangout was? And then there was the smell: a permanent, heavy, bathroomy odor.
At about three A.M. the no-good kids all cleared out because it started pouring. It rained all night long and all through the next day. So the girls didn’t get to ride their bikes. We didn’t get to hike. No one went in the lake. We were all stuck in the RV. Just like the day before. It was like The Shining, only everyone was Jack Nicholson.
We eventually decided that we should just move on to the next campsite. First, though, we had a little chore to complete: a dump of the RV’s sewage tank. In the rain. This is exactly what it sounds like. There’s a meter in the RV that tells you when you need to get rid of all of the poop and nasty water you’re lugging around. And by that time, it was redlining. I waffled about doing it myself for a second, before Dee happily took the reins. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Because this is one job you just can’t do halfway. If anyone screws this up, our trip is going to be ruined.” She was basically saying that she didn’t trust me not to half-ass it, and I was fine with her logic.
When you rent an RV, in order to suck all the crap out of your ride, you have to hook up a hose, kick a little motor on, and send it all into a receptacle at your local campsite. Guys in rock bands on tour buses often have a rule against dropping loads on the road. I have no idea why or how they decided on this rule—maybe they’re trying to flush the wrong kind of stuff—because we were assured RV toilets never backfire or plug up, and ours didn’t thankfully. You just really want to make sure when you’re emptying it that the hose is attached correctly and the valves are all synced up, otherwise you will be in a world of trouble.
As I sat there watching Dee sync it all up perfectly, I had a moment of realization. I’d been on TV, met my idols, and lived a life beyond my most ambitious dreams. And there I was in the rain, in the middle of nowhere, watching my wife pump shit out of an RV. And I was happier than I’d ever been before.
Acknowledgments
I owe major thanks to my sister Dorene, who had the unenviable job of typing out this book. As I would hand her pages and pages of unreadable scribbles, she would laugh, get pissed, cry, and then laugh again. Most of all, she encouraged me to keep going. She has been a guardian angel, fiercely protecting me and my family from the showbiz vultures. I love her beyond words.
Special thanks go out to my cowriter, Jeff Johnson, who spent many nights Skyping with me as our kids and wives juggled their lives for us. I was not looking forward to having a writer go through my stuff, but Jeff made this the best experience possible. He caught every emotion and made my own writing more like me. Jeff, you knocked it out of the park.
A huge thank-you to Eric and Steve at FarmHaus Studios. They have been tremendous in bringing to life every vision I have—from Web sites to videos to posters to social media stuff. Without these guys I would not be able to do what I do. Hands down, these guys are my saviors. They are amazingly talented at what they do, and I’ve been blessed to have them work with me. Beyond that, I count them both as friends and role models; having them around makes my life so much better.
A special thanks to my manager, Judi Brown-Marmel. She really and truly gets it. And she busts her rear end to get the real Jim Breuer out there! I trust her and believe in her. A big thanks, also, to Robert Hartmann and the entire group at Levity Entertainment for helping me start this all with Let’s Clear the Air. That show was just the beginning; thanks to all their hard work.
Thank you to Peter McGuigan, who saw the potential of this book from the very beginning. He has kept this thing on track the whole way through. He’s the best literary agent out there.
And, of course, I have to thank Bill Shinker, Patrick Mulligan, Lisa Johnson, Lindsay Gordon, Dick Heffernan, and everyone—and I mean EVERYONE!—at Gotham Books and Penguin. This has been exciting from the moment I walked into their office to meet them. What a great group. This company believes in my passion, and has done everything to show me they stand behind this book. And that’s all anyone can ask for.
Thanks to everyone who takes time to read this. I hope you laugh your ass off, perhaps get a reality check, and most important, just be entertained. Because entertaining you all is my job, and it’s what makes me truly happy.
Special thanks to Jimmy Sciacca, Larry Schneidmuller, Pete Correale, and Phil Collura for being the best “brothers” anyone could ever pray for in a lifetime. These are my go-to guys in life.
And last but not least, a special thanks to Jimmy in Boston, Rooney, Pocono Bob, Terrance, Rob and Brian from Jersey, Lindsey and her family, “Blue collar in the house,” all the Regulators, and the list goes on to every fan who has supported me, trusted me, listened to me, and has come out to see me again and again. You guys are what it’s all about.