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offered her their own winning smiles. They looked like lunatics.
"Three rooms. Just for the night." It was a plea.
"Well...come along, then."
I following her up the stairs. "This house is lovely," I offered. "We're musicians."

"S'at so?"
"Yeah. We're playing the festival tonight."
"Festival?"
Her name was Amelia. Her rooms were clean, quaint and cheap.
I felt such gratitude that I wanted to give her a big kiss, but instead I ran downstairs and told the guys, "Park the van. The eagle has friggin' landed."

We settled into our rooms to unwind before the shindig.
"Think we'll ever see ole' Glomster again?" Craig wondered.
I shook my head, "With any luck - NO."
I was too wound-up to do much unwinding. I did manage to get laid and take a shower, however. In what seemed like no time, we were back in the van. We were barely on the road when Glommy materialized at a red light, crimson-faced and sweating profusely.
"Wh-where were you guys, man?" He stuttered, eyes rolling independently of one another. I found myself genuinely disappointed to see him.
"Get in the van, Tom," I said evenly, striving for composure.
"N-N-NO! How c-c-could you FREAKIN' LEAVE me like that?!"
"Just. Get. In. The. VAN."
Fuming, he complied. (He would later cheerfully confess that he'd been "on the boardwalk - scopin' chicks!" I am not a violent person, but it took every shred of my self-control to keep from El-Kabonging' him over the head with my Ovation.)

We arrived at the site, greeted by a rickety wooden stage that resembled a giant milk crate and little else. No people - no festival - NADA.
Our manager enthused, "When you guys start playing, it'll be MADNESS!"
"Isn't it already?!?!" I snapped. "What the hell is this, Danny?"
"Just relax"
"Yeah, relax my ass."
As we began setting up and testing the sound system, Danny brought the head coordinator' over to me for introductions. He was a sleazy little bald man with a maniacal grin. Salivating slightly. I don't recall his name.
"HOW you-all DOIN'?" He rambled. "Hey - thanks for comin' all the way in from New York City! Ya's got plenty of gear, huh? HOT, ain't it? Hot as hell!"
"I thought this was a festival'," was my icy reply.
"Oh, it isit is" He wouldn't make eye contact with me.
"So where are the people? The radio stations?"
He cleared his throat. "I own the soda fountain cross the street! So, you-all help yourself to as much Snapple' as ya can drink!"
Before I could respond to this irresistible offer, he scooted away, never to be seen again. I turned to Danny.

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