by Mark Tufo
We had not gotten as close to the stage as we would have liked, but we did at least try to get in as strategically placed an area as possible. We were immediately to the left of the soundstage. I did that on purpose so that we would have a point of reference to come back to. We were in a field with thousands of other people with no formal seating and we were wasted. Finding a particular person in that kind of environment is not the easiest thing to accomplish. Think Wal-Mart at Christmas time times ten.
After the first set break, there was the mass exodus to the portable toilets and the various food and beverage vendors. The johns were about a hundred and fifty yards straight back from us and the vendors were maybe two hundred yards back and to the left as we turned to look at them. Might as well have been five miles in the state we were in. Dennis volunteered to lay claim on the blanket while Paul and I made our way out to the head. I think he wanted to stay back because the task looked entirely too daunting when you looked over the sea of heads. I can’t say I blamed him. If I’d had the foresight to wear Depends and just go in my adult diapers, I would have. Don’t scoff at me!
There were lines, but they weren’t horrible. The worst part was tripping your trees off and then going into the small confines of a blue, plastic shell that smelled of piss and chemicals. Shit, yeah, that was the bad part. At one point, I thought I might be trapped by my bladder. If I had a watch, I think I might have set a world record for longest piss. I got so tired of standing, I leaned against the side. I will neither confirm nor deny that at some point, I might have missed the little side toilet. Give me a break! The thing is the size of a kidney, and I was swaying like I was in gale-force winds. At least, I didn’t get any on the ceiling to drip down on the next person.
I thankfully stumbled out from the head, now feeling like I had been reborn. Paul was nowhere in sight. I could tell I was still smiling from ear to ear because my cheeks were burning from the muscle contraction.
“You done, man?” someone asked, trying to get past me and into the toilet.
“What?” I said trying to focus on his/her face, I’m pretty sure it was a guy. That would be good because he’d understand about not being able to aim correctly. I still got out of there though before he maybe called me on it.
Even over the PA, I heard him. “Why is there piss all over the place? Am I stepping in piss?” he yelled, as I evacuated the area.
I gleefully headed over to the beer tent, because that sounded like just about the best thing on the planet. Still no Paul, but I was keeping myself some really good company.
“I would like three nectars of the gods,” I told the woman running the counter.
“You have ID?” she asked blandly, probably sick of listening to all the messed up people.
“I have three kids,” I told her. “Don’t you see all this white in my goatee? That’s from them.”
“I don’t care if you have three elephants, if I don’t see ID, you don’t get three beers.”
“Now three elephants would be pretty cool,” I told her as I gingerly went to the pocket that housed my wallet. At the best of times, when I am as sober as a newborn, I fear about losing my wallet or dropping contents out of it. So when I go out and know I’m going to be drinking, I keep it in a zippered or buttoned-up pocket and my OCD makes me touch that spot a good twenty times an hour to make sure that it hasn’t found a way out on its own. I will usually keep a twenty in my front right pants pocket for easy access with the added bonus of not having to take my wallet out.
“Do I really look nineteen?” I asked, trying to flirt my way out of getting my wallet out. I showed her the twenty.
She completely shut me down. “No, you don’t look nineteen at all, but I have to see everyone’s ID.”
“Your mellowing my high,” I mumbled as I grabbed my wallet.
“Just think how mellow it will be if you don’t get these beers,” she responded.
“You must have been a nun in another life,” I told her, trying my best to keep an eye on any errant articles from falling out of my wallet as I fished my driver’s license out.
“What makes you think it was a previous life?” she asked, grabbing my ID. Bitch didn’t even look at it as she handed it back. “Was that so hard?” she asked as she waited impatiently for me to put all the contents of my wallet back together and then try to find the twenty I had put back in a different pocket.
“You have no idea,” I told her as I briefly panicked until I located the wadded up bill.
Nineteen fifty for three beers. She took her time with the change, I guess expecting me to tell her to keep it. I waited patiently and she begrudgingly handed it over. I’ll be damned if I was giving her a nickel for making me go through that while I was in my altered state. I don’t think I won the particular encounter, but I didn’t lose either. Now I had to try and figure out how to get back. Easier said than done, but I figured at the absolute worst, I would be alone with three beers.
I found the sound stage just as Widespread came back on. I circled around a bit until I saw Dennis. He was once again twirling around with Yellow Sundress; she must have landed nearby. I looked up in the sky, I guess looking for her falling vapor trail. I tapped him on the shoulder. The relief slash joy that flooded across his features as he saw me was, in a word, awesome, and then compound that with his added joy when he saw what I was carrying was just plain cool as hell.
“Wasn’t sure I’d see either of you two again tonight,” Dennis said joyously as he took the proffered beverage.
“I knew you’d be thirsty, my friend,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder.
“How’s Yellow?” I asked.
“Who?”
“The girl you’re dancing with.”
“I’m dancing with someone?” he asked in earnest, looking around for his mythical partner. “You seen Paul?” he asked when he figured I was messing with him.
“Naw, I hoped he made his way back here by now.”
“Maybe he’ll bring some beers too. That’d be great!”
And I nodded an enthusiastic agreement.
Widespread played an inspired second set. Dennis and I had finished our beers, and out of a toast for our missing friend, we split the third beer evenly and drank it down. Paul was still nowhere in sight. By this time, I think Dennis’ eyes were turning yellow. I could see a hint of panic in them as he tried to gauge his success rate at holding it or making it to and from the john.
Yellow saved the day. She was walking by without a care in the world, semi twirling as she moved past.
“Hi!” I yelled to her louder than I needed to. I imagined my face to be a washed out version of itself from the hard partying I was in the midst of.
She looked over, her smile never wavering. “Hi yourself!” she said.
“Are you heading to the bathroom?” I asked (yup that’s me! Always the smooth one.)
This time, her smile slipped for a second, like “What the hell was my problem?”
I wasn’t so messed up, (okay, yes I was) that I couldn’t see her confusion. “My buddy, here,” I said, pulling Dennis over to my side. He had not the slightest idea that I had been talking to his dance partner.
“Do I know you?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he was asking her or me.
“We’re fabulous friends,” she said, her smile returning. “We might even be married.”
That was news to me, although I’d met Dennis’ ex and this girl blew her away, both looks-wise and personality. He could have done a lot worse, like going back to the miserable thing he’d divorced.
“Umm, okay, since you two are potentially married, your husband is in some desperate need of (I swear I almost said relief, but that would have sounded way to sexual) help. We’re a little on the other side of normal, and I don’t think he’ll be able to find his way to the restrooms and back.”
She laughed a warm, mirthful laugh and put her hand out for Dennis.
He grabbed it, then asked who she was again.
&
nbsp; I had my doubts I’d see him again tonight. By now, I was wondering if I would be able to find my way back to our temporary accommodations. The odds weren’t stacked in my favor. I was constantly scanning the crowd for Paul. He had been missing a long time. Sometimes I would call out his name, thinking that maybe I had seen him close by. But always the person was walking away, threading through the crowd to parts unknown.
If you’ve read all my journals up to this far, first off congrats for getting through my ramblings. But you should have a good idea that I do not like big crowds and I do not function well within them. However, there I was thriving. The collective consciousness of that crowd was uplifting. My soul was bobbing up and down on the strong electric current. I know it sounds corny and maybe a little too hokey, but I was having a blast and who’s to deny what I was feeling, no matter how cheesy?
Twenty minutes later, half hour, seventy-eight parsecs? I don’t know. I saw the bright rays of Yellow Sundress gleaming through the crowd, and like a heralding angel, she was leading a beer-laden Dennis.
“I hope you two are married!” I told her.
She was still smiling, but I think she forgot she had ever said that.
“I come bearing gifts!” Dennis yelled. “And I’m not ever doing that again!”
I hoped he hadn’t meant peeing because eventually you’d just blow up.
Yellow handed Dennis a piece of paper with her phone number on it. “Enjoy the show,” she told him as she gently stroked his face and went twirling away into the crowd.
“Who the hell is that?” he asked me, handing me a beer.
I picked up the napkin that he had dropped. Her name and phone number were on it. I think her name was Susan, but I won’t attest to that. I stuck the piece of paper in Dennis’ rear pant pocket.
“Paul?” he asked, sipping his beer.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Did you get the beer Nazi?”
“No ID, no beer!” he said, smiling.
It was another few, maybe ten minutes and the lights dimmed down, the third set was starting.
“DUDE!” I heard from behind me.
It honestly took me a few moments for my reeling brain to put the image before me and match it up with Paul’s.
“BUDDY! Where the hell have you been?” I responded.
“I’m not really sure. I remember going to the bathroom with you and when I came out, I couldn’t find you. Then I realized I was starving, so I went over and got some beef teriyaki.”
“They have beef teriyaki?” Dennis asked as he turned to join the conversation. “Paulie! Hey buddy!”
“So I ate, and then I was thirsty as hell. I went and tried to get some beer, but I didn’t bring any ID.”
Dennis and I gave knowing glances to each other and started laughing.
I was floating around trying to get some brew and I ran into this guy that had brought a cooler in and was selling them for like two bucks a piece.”
“Two bucks? Damn!”
“So I bought like a six-pack.”
I looked down into his hands, bummed that I didn’t see any of them hanging there by the plastic holder.
“By the time I got the beer, I was all turned around and I had no idea which way to go. So I started playing Frisbee with this group and then I might have done some hula hooping. I was thinking that maybe I’d remember where we were by then.”
“Didn’t work so much?” I asked.
“No, so when the music started, I hopped on someone’s blanket and drank and danced.”
“So how’d you find us?” Dennis asked, still looking at Paul’s hands like beer might magically appear. That night it might have actually happened.
“I saw the girl in the yellow sundress and I seem to remember her being around us.”
“You saw Dennis’ wife!”
“What?” they asked in unison.
“Long story!” I yelled, wanting to get back into the groove of the music.
The music was playing again, my buds were back, I placed my arms over both their shoulders and we enjoyed the remainder of the show. I would have bet money that Dennis was the most effed-up one of us all, but I kept repeating over and over at how amazed I was that he knew the way home.
Nothing we passed looked even vaguely familiar to me. Other revelers walked around us, our footfalls echoing on the tree lined roadways as we trekked our way home. I caught snippets of meaningless conversations… “Jenny wasn’t even seeing him….”
“Which way to the universe?” (I could relate) “Is that a barracuda?” Even I couldn’t piece that one together.
A few homeowners turned their lights on to make sure no one decided to make their front lawns a resting spot. I saw more men and women openly pissing in the street than I will ever care to admit. I might have seen a couple having sex, or it was a lawnmower--I can’t be sure. More than once, Paul’s hand would reach out and prevent me from toppling over as I tried to scale the massive curb when the occasional car ventured forth.
Now I’m not so dramatic that I felt I was Bilbo Baggins on a quest for the ring that ruled them all, but by the time we got to our condo, I felt like it. Relief flooded through me as I took in my now favorite, intensely red couch and butcher block kitchen table.
“MEAT!” Dennis shouted, heading for the fridge. He started slapping packet after packet of various deli delight-ables on the counter top. Dagwood had nothing on us after we piled different animals onto our Kaiser rolls. It wasn’t twenty minutes later that I found myself deep in the throes of a food coma. Somehow, I had passed out and slept on the table. The next morning did not bode well for my back as I cantilevered off. Sometime during the night, my head had been cleaved in two. I could not focus on anything. I felt threadbare, like I had wrung my soul through a cheese grater. My cohorts weren’t in much better shape, although Dennis got to sleep his happy-ass in the back seat the entire seven-hour ride back home.
Paul was up intermittently to keep me company, but he just couldn’t stave off the effects of the night before and none of us was having anything to do with his secret elixir. Paul said that he didn’t even think that he could handle the smell of the ingredients anyway.
I relate this story because although it happened nearly eight years ago, it was truly one of the last times that the three of us as best friends, that had shared so many life experiences, journeys, quests and adventures got together. Dennis, just two years later, would die from a series of strokes and heart attacks. Unbeknownst to us, he had been diagnosed with type two diabetes. I guess he figured that if he ignored it, the disease would go away. It didn’t.
And like so many friendships as we grow older, there just isn’t the time available to devote to them. This Telluride trip would be, for the most part, mine and Paul’s swan song. Sure, we saw each other a few times over the remaining years, most notably Dennis’ funeral, but nothing like the days of yore. I don’t want to count our days of running from zombies. That is not a chapter I wish to include in our long and storied past. I will miss you, Paul, those days we played football, our experimentation with beer, and bongs. Our voyages to Indian Hill, to our college days and beyond. You were the best friend, damn near brother, that any man could ask for in life. I feel honored and privileged to have known you. A piece of my heart will always be missing with your passing. Rest in Peace, Paul 1966-2011.
So ends Journal Number Five. I did not get as much accomplished as I had hoped, yet I paid dearly for it. The world yet spins, but it has become a measurably darker place. Eliza stands on the threshold of victory and I fear that nothing stands in her path to stop her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“My cat’s paws are always cold, I’ve believe it’s due to her walking upon the souls of the dead.” Book of Talbotisms #76
“So you’re telling me that you and BT both felt Paul?” Gary asked as they walked away from Mary’s house. Josh watched them from his bedroom upstairs, eagerly awaiting their return. Deneaux was watching them from the living room win
dow, with what appeared to be the exact opposite expression.
“Paul’s passing,” Mike said. It sounded a lot stranger in daylight like maybe he had imagined it, but it was a pretty powerful feeling this morning.
“I hope you’re wrong,” Gary said.
“Me too,” Mike said in earnest, but his words rang hollow. He might have some doubts about what he felt, but not enough to overcome them.
They walked in silence for a little while longer. Gary, for some reason, just couldn’t seem to let the quietness of the day hold. Maybe he also did not want to dwell on the fact that they were more likely heading out on a body recovery than a rescue.
“Sure aren’t many zombies for a zombie apocalypse,” he said, looking around.
“And that’s a problem for you?” Mike asked sarcastically.
“I’m just saying, that you’d think they’d be everywhere. And here we are, just strolling down the middle of the road, like we own the place.”
“I, for one, am not complaining, brother. I would much rather be strolling than running for my life. You should be thankful too, because we both know I can run laps around you.”
“Not if I tripped you.”
“Nice, you tell Tracy when you get back what happened.”
“Forget it, I’d rather get eaten.” He laughed for a sec.
They had been criss-crossing streets with no real objective. They were just looking for something, anything. Mike thought about calling out or maybe even shooting a round into the air and then he thought a little harder about sounding the dinner bell. Just because there were no zombies here right now, in no way meant that they weren’t around in big bunches.