On Break...

“Holy shit, this place is weird.” - Me

All I wanted to do is read a book and relax on my lunch break. I am lucky enough to work a stones throw away from the breath-taking views of the Pacific. This is my place of choice for taking all breaks throughout the work week, an oasis if you will, from the hell-trap on Earth I work in dealing with the silver spoon, brainwashed to keep-up-with-the-Jones’, American public day in and day out. In all honesty I love what I do, no complaints…if only the damn customers weren’t there…but thats a whole other conversation.

Today, I take the long way to the coast to sit on my usual bench to read and decompress from the first half of my shift. I arrive at my bench just at the edge of the tree lines shade at the perfect time of day. As I take my seat there is a man pacing behind the bench on the phone call of his life. He speaks loud and direct to whomever it is he needs to get his point across to on the other side of that mobile device. I do the usual raised eyebrow dirty look towards him and open my book. As I start to ingest the immoral words from my library-borrowed Christopher Moore fiction my new pacing friend ends his call. Good - my eyebrows did the talking again. Victory.

As Pacer stands there I notice out of the corner of my eye another older man, tattered, in every sense of the word, with a sticker-covered guitar case takes a seat on the grass next to the bench. Indian style now he opens the guitar case to pull out 2 drum sticks. Sure. Why not? What? You expected him to pull out a guitar? No, no. This is California, nothing normal happens here. Especially on the cliffs overlooking the ocean in Santa Monica…I really need to find a new oasis…this place is getting weird. Oh - did I forget to mention he has a tarnished, half consumed wine jug with him? My new tattered friend takes his drum sticks, one in each hand, and in no order or musical computation I can make out starts to sing and bang on the guitar case as if it were a drum using his half consumed red-stained jug to accent his nonsensical beat. I slowly raise my head from my fiction in a mix of confusion, frustration and awe. By the time I look over at this tattered man he has pulled out a recorder, the kind of flute-like instrument they hand out in 3rd grade and starts contributing his own horrific, and once again in no music computation that anyone could comprehend or interpret to paper, soundtrack to the picturesque scenery.

At this point I assume you for got about Pacer. I almost did too. As I rip my eyes from the absurdity that is Tatter to my friend Pacer I notice he is in a trance, barefoot, shoes removed and discarded across the grass like litter in a hunched position looking like he is prepping for a human take-off in the vein of Superman or Peter Pan. He springs upright and releases all the air in his lungs like a party favor balloon squeezed of air. It is at this exact moment I notice another man who has sat down on another bench a few feet from me fighting the air in front of him as passerby’s move out of the way of his mighty fists. What the hell is going on today? I sit and wonder then ask myself, "Does this happen everyday?"

Now, I can’t make this shit up. I wish I was this creative and smart but I’m not. I am on break at work and from all sides around me people are going crazy. How in the hell am I going to focus on a book now? And it is now that I realize. If we stop to notice life, just slow down for a minute...the world is a beautifully insane place. Take a minute this week to break out of your 'normal' routine and look to see what the hell is going on around you. Like Ferris said "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around for a while, you could miss it." Or you might find some crazy assholes doing God knows what in all areas around you. 

But then again...sometimes....you have to go back to work.

-YourFriendMatt

Ol' Trusty...Part Two...

“Oh man. No way. This can’t be happening.” we softly uttered as the engine seized… 

Our band had been invited to play an event for a rock radio station in Philadelphia. We hadn’t played together in almost a year, we had no new material to showcase, some of us moved to other states and we would only be able to get one rehearsal in…we went for it. We missed each other and needed a excuse to play music together again. Besides, we are professionals right? We would all remember the lyrics, harmonies and parts after a hour of rehearsing right? Sure - it's like riding a bike - 'we got this' repeats over and over again in my head.

I landed back in Philadelphia to rehearse, caught up over some beers, packed up and we were on our way. Chris and I drove our ramshackle van full of equipment while the other guys went separately due to prior obligations. When we get together we think we are invincible and even at our age, which is closer to 30 that 20, we find ourselves reverting to our adolescent mindsets. Even the worst ideas seem probable after we all convince one another it's possible. Case in point - driving our band van, which is literally falling apart, 20+ miles to Philadelphia. 

Our final destination...if we make it there...

We got this...

Right before we departed there was a (very) quick conversation about the  possibility of the van not making it. Back up plan? Nope. “She is going to make it! There is no other option!” We decided as we all raised a toast to the van that has gotten us around the world and back. “Here goes nothing.” Chris whispered in a moment of clarity “Okay Ol’ Trusty…all you have to do is get us there. We will take it from there.” caressing the steering wheel. I turn and place my hand on the dusty dashboard. "We got this."

There was traffic so we decided to make our into New Jersey and then cut back over into Philadelphia from there. This made sense if you were driving a vehicle that was well maintained and knew it was going to get your to your final destination. In our case though this was a tricky maneuver. If the van died in New Jersey we were screwed. We crossed the bridge from Delaware in to New Jersey and all was going well. As we had reached the crest of the bridge there was a loud, unnerving bang. Where did it come from? Chris and I side-glanced at each other. “Did you feel that?” I asked. “It’s nothing! Ol’ Trusty will get us there!” Chris responded and then it happened - the van shut off. Died. We were motionless at the crest of the bridge like a roller coaster at the top of its track. “No way!” We both barked “Start rocking forward and hopefully we can coast down the rest of the bridge!” We rocked and pushed and then she went. The centrifugal force and gravity started to pull us into New Jersey as we coasted with a dead van full of equipment. “Oh man! Do the brakes still work?” as I turn to Chris who is throwing an open container out the window. He responds “Man! This is probably an awful time to tell you that the van is uninsured!” We both scream held each other and pray for the best as we careened towards the garden state.

Frantically, Chris pumps the brakes as we whiz by a colorful "New Jersey Welcomes You" sign. We were running out of road fast as we see our lane was coming to an end. "Woo! The shit hit the fan quick on this one, baby!" Chris yells and he jerks the wheel steering us into another lane. I could see there was a fork in the road at the end of the bridge. "Aim for that shoulder man! If we can land there we'll be fine!" I point as I pull out my phone to document with a quick social media post...and to send to the rest of our band to keep them up to date with our current whereabouts. What? If we are going down like this I want social media to know we went out in glory. "Already ahead of you!" Chris responds as our ship starts to course correct towards the fork 's shoulder. 

With a screech of the tires, a cloud of black road dust and a touch of luck we land on the shoulder of the road. We wipe the sweat from our brows and slowly turn to look at each other in awe. After a wide-eyed, jaw dropped pause of amazement we slowly crack smiles. "Holy shit! We did it!" Double checking my phone for the video playback. "Damn straight we did. Now, lets fix this beast." Chris motions to me exiting the drivers seat to pop the hood. In a few moments, along with a a lot of cursing, hitting the engine with hammers and readjusting battery connections we were back on the road.

"I don't know? Should we hit it with a hammer?" - Matt & Chris

The rest of the ride was steady besides a few pops and sputters. We made it to the venue in time to load in, sound check and grab a brew together. The show went on and we had a blast seeing all our family, friends and creating memories. See…like I said…we got this.

-YourFriendMatt

First World Problems...

 "Motherfucker." I said after calmly collecting myself from furiously punching, screaming at and shaking the steering wheel.

Since embarking on our adventure to California we have experienced nothing but car trouble. The SUV we drove from the chilly east coast died almost immediately upon arrival here in sunny California. She served her purpose, got us here safely and then gave up the ghost like a good soldier. It's all I asked of her. We lucked out when our friends Greg and Rick drove my other car out west from Philadelphia giving us another shot at LA traffic bliss...but now we have another problem (see picture above).

My 2004 Ford Focus, with all manual features standard, has been a godsend. She has taken me all over the east coast and now out west to tackle what this terrain has to offer. Sure her ignition sticks and you have to hit the steering column with a hammer every once in a while...sure the radio will just cut out for no reason sometimes ruining your chance at harmonizing the chorus of your favorite song...sure that passenger side mirror has never worked and makes merging a fun game of life or death...but overall...she's a gem. 

When I got the call from Jamie stating she couldn't get the key to turn I thought she was full of shit. We have been through this exact scenario a million times. The ignition just sticks and will get stuck now and then. Once you give the steering column a good love tap with a handy-dandy hammer it loosens up. "Jamie, my cousin who I never see is visiting and we are grabbing a drink. If I leave to travel across town to try and fix this it had better be officially stuck." Immoral words I wished I never used in retrospect. When I arrived at the scene like the knight in shining armor I think I am I arrogantly jumped into the driver's seat. Jamie was in the passenger and looked at me like I was the world's biggest dickhead. Which I am. "We'll be out of here in a minute and then we are heading back to catch my family for a drink." I state as I try to turn the key confidently. Stuck. A worried slightly embarrassed "Haha" Shot out of my mouth. "Uh, must give it a little more muscle." I try again as Jamie's eyebrows cock and a smirk creeped across her face. 

After about an hour of punching, hair pulling, screaming, yelling and explicitly expelling every curse I know (and some I made up) trying to turn the key with no success we decided to call roadside assistance. "Motherfucker." I say under my breath and let out a deep sigh. This thing was like the fucking Sword in the Stone, only the chosen one could get this thing to move. I have no idea how something like this happens. Imagine the key to your car ignition would not turn and get back to me. Don't take it for granted the next time you get in the car to zip off to the mall, corner store or...to grab drinks with your family...which at this point after trying to turn a key for two hours...were surely cancelled.

We called roadside assistance, found the closest Ford service station, found a ride home and were quoted 60 minutes for the tow truck to come get us...which gave us plenty of time to get the car to Ford to be fixed. When we realized we only had 10 minutes to get to the garage and we were still on the side of the road, long past our 60 minute rescue quote time, we got worried. I called the tow company, our insurance company and Ford. No one has ever heard of a "Matt" before. Fucking fantastic. Hearing "Who are you again?" is never a good response. Evidently the fax had never went through from our insurance company to the tow company to come get us. Make sense right? "What the fuck? Who uses a fax in the first place? What the fuck even is a fax?" Echoed in my head, that was currently on fire with fury, when they told me this. 

Jamie told me to calm down as I ferociously confiscated her phone and started dialing all parties numbers. I had our insurance company and tow company on 3 way on my phone and Ford on Jamie's "Mr. Bates we apologize for the inconvenience, Ford has a parking lot you can get the car towed to tonight after hours and they will look at the car first thing in the morning." Said the representative from our insurance company in a monotoned voice. "Uhhh, no we don't" responded the 20 year old valley girl receptionist from Ford. All parties were on speakerphone to hear each other. I stared at the phones, sat for a minute and responded quietly with "Guys. Do you see why I hate you all." Calmly like a serial killer and I paused "None of you have your shit together. Please communicate with each other before you present me a house of lies." My voice escalating. "Get me and my girlfriend off the goddamn side of the road immediately and somebody get my fucking car fixed" Now screaming every word. Another pause and a breath "Please." Trying to force my manners. I am not a total asshole but I think this specific scenario warrants a curse here or there. Jamie was mortified.

At the end of the day the car was finally towed...another hour later. Our tow truck operator Caesar didn't know who we were or where the car was going. We had to make another call to his boss to get it straightened out again...but he was at least a nice guy. I didn't give him shit and we laughed. It's not his fault his company is run by a bunch of motherfuckers. At this point I just gave up...signed the papers...and prayed I would see my car again someday.

YourFriendMatt