I dashed off to my favorite second hand cd/dvd store last week in search of one thing and, par for the course, ended up finding another. The find was so exciting that I actually bellowed the non-acronymic version of "OMG, NFW!", giving the other browsers quite a start. Pulling myself together and saying a silent prayer to Alison Surasky, my personal patron saint of exclamations, I took the copy of Love Tractor's "This Ain't No Outerspace Ship" to the counter to claim my prize and then dashed out to the car to subject the parking lot to a cover of The Gap Band's "Party Train" via maximum volume. As my tummy rumbled with the bass, yesterday was altered and twenty-one years evaporated. I could smell the Myers dark and o.j. and the Camel non-filtered scent of me peering through the haze at the microcosm that was, at that point, my understanding of the world. The people I loved and the ones I hated; those who would fade with time and those that I would lose abruptly for primarily pointless reasons. There at the bar sat Kenny and Kmatt, laughing - probably at someone's expense; Linda serving some concoction guaranteed to set you staggering; Spurlock eating the worm on a dare; Alison, Jody, and Susan having just finished damaging the ozone; Charlie still not wanting anything to do with me. The dance floor was packed with faces that seemed so important then, but now no longer have a name. For the moment, everybody was on board.
Love Tractor's interpretation of "Party Train" was polarizing among those who cared about such things. Some felt that it was a laughable frat boy work out, while others said it was tongue in cheek and therefore exempt. To me it was both and neither and twenty-one years hasn't changed that lack of opinion. It was then a fun way to fill the floor for five minutes - or longer if I felt like working in the original version - because, regardless of how the message was delivered, it needed to be heard.
Have a great Memorial Day weekend and don't forget to remember.
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