The Living Rockumentary

The man dismissively waved his hands at the couple who was currently being attended to at the rental car counter and said, "I'm next. I don't have time!". Meanwhile, we sat patiently in the waiting area nervously stealing glances out the window at the enormous van which we assumed was waiting for us.

The van was huge, we needed ropes and pulleys to climb up into it. While driving, we sat up so high that we could see the stars. The ride was smooth and airy - like a space shuttle landing on a giant pad of butter.

Equipment and people were loaded in and everyone spent a few moments finding their special nooks and crannies - spots for cell phones, reading materials, and gum. The trip began.

Brian's MP3 bug was chirping out hit after hit, doing it's best to stump Tony. On the way to Provincetown, it settled into a mostly 60's mix, but on the way home, it spanned the decades. Often it participated in our conversations by playing a song that related to the subject at hand.

Speaking of conversations, they flowed freely and casually - one moment that sticks out is Tony describing the ending of Harry Potter's new movie even though some folks in the car hadn't yet seen it. Even when protests were made, he just kept on going. He's lucky I had already been to that movie or I would have hit the ejecto-seat.

We spoke also of the movie "Super Size" me, which Lesa and I recently saw. Then we went to McDonald's.

It was cloudy most of the way down, with an occasional burst of rain but when we pulled into the 6.00 all-day parking at the Lands End Hardware Store, things seem to have cleared some. We strolled down Commercial Street - 'cause that's what you do in Provincetown, over and over again, back and forth, up and down. We passed a bit of celebration associated with Portuguese Weekend and found about twenty little kids trying out hula-hoops. Tony told the story of Hannah and her friend one time holding the hoop still and then spinning around inside it like young Galileos. Silly kids, don't they know the world revolves around them.

We browsed a few shops. I sampled some fudge and Brian and Andrea attempted to but were thwarted by a fat man who refused to move.

Soon enough, we ran into Max, who was dressed in P-Town camouflage - colorful shirt with rolled up sleeves, pink heart-shaped sunglasses, and gelled hair. He joined us and we returned to The Squealing Pig for lobster toasties and fish and chips.

We met Ahbi and Lori there and all ate together while rain poured down outside. After the excellent dinner, we strolled down Commercial Street - 'cause that's what you do in Provincetown, over and over again, back and forth, up and down. Coffees and Ice-Cream were selected by a number of us and it was time to start loading in.

I squeezed the van into the teeny alley behind the pig and we extracted all of our stuff. Then we squeezed into the corner and set up for the show.

Before we knew it, it was time to begin and the evening began to blur. It was unusually hot inside the pig and the crowd kept rolling in and out like waves. One moment, there would be a full dance floor bouncing around free-style and seconds later the room would be virtually empty save for the folks at the back tables and bar.

The Fawns played really well. The new songs and the Juliana Hatfield cover gelled perfectly. School for the Dead played well, too. Loose and experimental and energetic. As the evening progressed we got louder and louder - we'd have to raise the volume to accommodate all of the bodies in the room when they rolled in and then when they rolled out we would be screaming in an echo chamber. Our last set was excruciating with cymbals and distortion. But fun.

After the show, I stood outside to cool down. I was in a large group of people and an older drunk gentle man fell down before us, his cell phone silently slid out of his pocket, bounced across the sidewalk and landed at my feet. It was face up and glowing and it was a Handspring Treo600 - the exact model I had been contemplating getting. I took it as a sign and I purchased one up yesterday.

Back at Ahbi's pad, which she so graciously allowed us to sleep in (saving us hundred of dollars), we took up any available inch of sofa, bed, and floor space. It was a rough, rough night of sleep accompanied by a tick-tocking clock and a sleep walking cat named Peach. All night, I dreamt like I wasn't sleeping. Or maybe I wasn't and I just knew it.

But the next day, was glorious (like all next days on Cape Cod). In Ahbi's back yard, the sun was shining on the prickly grass, horses were snorting on the other side of the fence, and robins were bouncing around joyfully. We passed on going to the Wellfleet Flea Market and instead got an ok breakfast in town, sat and strolled for a while around Race Point Beach, and indulged in soft-serve (except for Andrea who had classic ice-cream) at P.J.'s.

On the ride home, some folks slept while others discussed what to do with our musical careers. The Rio played the same song twice, once sung by Astrud Gilberto and once sung by Sinatra. We broke up the trip with a stop at a Mass Pike Service Center and enjoyed food from Fresh City and DeAngelo's - nothing greasy and sad. It was good.

A little ways later, I filled up the gas tank in the van. It only cost $60.00.

As we sailed through the Holyoke Range we felt like we were just heading to our next gig. That the ride would never end. It felt good, but it wasn't true.