SOME NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE GUILTY

GETTING MORE TALE #438: Drunken Record Store Shenanigans

2001.  Annual Record Store Christmas party.  I was designated driver.

It was a great bash.  We almost always had great parties.  Great — but always safely.  I was driving an anonymous buddy home.  Getting my buddy out of the bar took some effort.  He ran into somebody at the bar, and I don’t even think they knew each other, but this guy claimed to know Steve Earle.  He told Buddy that he could get him back stage to meet Steve Earle next time he came into town.  Well, Buddy was excited beyond belief!  “I’m gonna meet Steve Earle!” he announced to me, and everyone else in the establishment!  “I’m gonna get to meet Steve Earle!”  It took about 15 minutes for me to drag his excited ass out of that place.

Into the parking lot on that snowy cold night.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna meet Steve Earle!”

In the car.

“I’m gonna meet Steve Earle man!”

I just had to laugh and wished I had a tape recorder.  His rant was about as hilarious as it gets, if you’re into drunken rants for the purpose of humour.

“Oh man…Steve EARLE!”

Then he decided to tell me that he approved of my new girlfriend, who also attended the party.

“That is a really nice girl and you hafta hang onto her,” he slurred.  “But when the light turns green you gotta GO.  And when it’s yellow you gotta go, or stop.  She’s a nice girl.”

I laughed and tried to egg him into saying more hilarious stuff, which was just repeating “I’m gonna meet Steve Earle,” and “when the light is yellow you gotta go.”

I dropped my buddy safely off at his home, where he tells me he passed out on the toilet talking to his girlfriend on the phone.  I’m sure she was also thrilled he was going to meet Steve Earle!

Not that I’m innocent in all this.  I usually chose to be designated driver, but not always.  One night my buddy drove me from a Record Store get-together.  The bartender had cut me off, because (apparently) I was loudly discussing different techniques to masturbate.  Allegedly!  So I am hardly one to throw stones at anyone.  I’m sure there are one or two people who have good Drunk LeBrain stories.  I know on my birthday, the Record Store people took me out for drinks and I proceeded to grab a bunch of dudes’ asses.

However, the truth is, I was usually the driver, and as such, usually have the best stories.  My memories are more reliable than those who were drinking.

I remember Buddy telling the Boss Man that he thought his mom was “hot”.  Buddy later denied this, saying, “I wouldn’t say that because I don’t think his mom is hot.”  But I know what I heard, and I was sober!

I remember Tom eating chicken bones at the Heuther Hotel, and then taking the rest home with him to make “soup”.  I remember one guy stealing ashtrays from the Heuther at a drunken party, and the Boss making him return the ashtrays to them the next week!

One of my fondest memories from that time happened one summer, after we had gathered for a concert at a place called the Banke in downtown Kitchener.  Exiting the venue, one of the guys decided to run into the middle of the street and do a Mick Jagger dance in front of the late-night traffic!  It was truly a sight to behold.  And it was also a pretty damn accurate dance.

Thankfully, nobody was ever hurt at one of our Record Store piss-ups.  We always made sure everybody had a ride.  They were a good time, a part of my youth I will always remember fondly and sometimes hazy!

LeBRAIN ON AIR BASS!

Circa 1997. That’s Iron Tom Sharpe peeking behind me.