There was a thought there, at the very edge of my mind that clawed at my subconscious. You’re not supposed to be here, it kept saying. I shooed the voice away and braved the stage: an auditorium filled with hundreds of people, the curtain I bloom from and the microphone standing in the center of everything. No, this is your idea of a stage, not mine and isn’t this my story? See, now you’re in my head too. “Sleep” is not equal to “rest” when your mind is this active…
Our signs and logos infiltrate open space on the patio. We’ll take them down and offer them as souvenirs later if we have enough fans around when the show ends for the night. It’s hot enough to fry brain cells at this temperature. Who would’ve known that the Texas heat could have some of the same effects as marijuana?
Earlier Corby had offered me a hit from his joint to cool my nerves. “No thanks man,” I had said, “I’m drug free.”
“You take vitamins don’t you?” He asked.
I won’t take the time to explain just how he convinced me that One-A-Day Men’s and Omega 3 Fish Oil pills are considered “drugs,” mainly because it wouldn’t do my debating skills justice. So I took a hit – or I didn’t – or I did for the sake of the story.
1310 The Ticket signs hung all around the outdoor restaurant patio like graffiti. We were marking our territory, so to speak. I sat opposite co-host Mike, who sat next to Corby and Danny. Seconds before our live radio broadcast began I realized I was the only one not wearing a microphone. Was this their idea of new guy hazing? Clipped on all of their t-shirts, at identical positions, were their tiny black microphone receivers.
Long story short, every time I had anything to say, I had to edge myself forward across the table toward Mike and speak into his man boobs. There were no curtains and I had no microphone, but I still found a reason to bow.
This was a rewrite of a dream I had the other night.
– Eric McCarty (6/14/2012)
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