Wednesday, January 19, 2005

san antonio: the white rabbit


 Posted by Hello

oh yes, that's right. san antonio. the white rabbit. the tour up to this point was mere foreplay, a simple sideshow attraction, like stopping by to see the world's second largest ball of twine when in route to mecca. sure its interesting, in a very odd abnormal-psych kinda way (who makes these things?), but after laughing at others' and thier waste-of-time endeavors, you get your ass back on the road until you reach the promised land. our destination? bsc or bust.

upon arrival, the crew de tejas was given directions to the home of austin, the lead guitarist with fingers of fury, which also doubles as the band's principle practice facilities. being the good-natured destructionists that they are, the boy scout cookies decided to try and share their spotlight with the less fortunate, less important people of the world such as yours truly. the plan was for me to participate in the night's show, be it through spitting rhymes or playing an instrument, but this ultimately fell through because of my lack of rap lyric knowledge and my embarrassing loss of any drumming talent i once could fake. for the latter, i blame myself for not touching a pair of drumsticks in a year and a half--for the former, i blame the caucasia.

next stop was the hidden castle of the hills that houses the one and only stephen morsund. for those of you who have never had the pleasure, stephen is a hilarious guy and student at washington university who has two things going for him: a chameleon hairstyle and an affinity for laughing at his own jokes ... loudly. he greeted us with a huge smile and took us upstairs to his entertainment parlor (complete with pool table, incredible tv/sound system, professional poker table, and the bathroom even has a standup urinal), and there awaiting our arrival were the effervescent adrienne farr, the ridiculous brady farr, and mr. kickass himself, jordan margetson. apparently, they were so excited with anticipation to see us that they decided to put in the hulk dvd to calm themselves down--it worked so well, they barely acknowledged us as we came in, and the lights stayed off until the hulk caught sight of jennifer connelly, degreened himself and stopped smashing tanks. seriously, hulk ... chill out.

almost completely assembled, the crew then headed out for some grub, swinging by the party palace to pick up the man, the legend, myron jones. myron is a complete baller who routinely takes pity on those less cool and allows us to party with him at his house. we packed ourselves into two cars and, against my will, stephen led the caravan to a mexican restaurant so we could all fill up with poo food. my gut told me this was a huge mistake, but not wanting to kill the others' buzz, i went along with it. tragically, i didn't realize the error of my ways until it was too late; the seven of us were packed into a corner booth designed for four, and when i ordered the largest margarita in the house, my heart was promptly crushed by the most terrifying words known to college students: "we don't serve any alcohol." oh the perils of being a sober lactose intolerant hungry guy in a baptist mexican restaurant that serves no dish without extra queso. thanks guys.


mary, stephen, adrienne and myron ... see, i have friends! Posted by Hello

after everyone else finished their meal, and i finished my dr. pepper, it was almost time. finally, the hour of destruction was upon us. we all re-sardined ourselves into brady's car, and headed toward the infamous white rabbit. as the tires screeched to a stop in a pseudo attempt at parallel parking, i experienced one of those deep points of reflection that occurs when all of time slows down right before witnessing something spectacular. but the quiet before the storm was promptly broken; before i could step out of the car, an earth shattering "briiiian!" shot across the crowd of teenagers in the parking lot. its owner was none other than j. baumann, sporting a texas rangers jersey, a powerfully pink headband, and the grin of someone who just caught their friend looking up porn. he unearthed himself from the swarm of j-bow groupies surrounding him (about eight 15 year old girls), ran over and tackled stu, then promptly went into a story about one of the girls in the groupie circle. absurdity.

with our new addition, the crew lined up outside the entrance, and those of us in college got a nice square look at what our life had come to: supposedly, this place was a bar, but there was absolutely no one over the age of 18 inside. while being carded to enter (how did all these kids make it in here?), we each had to specify what group we were there to see ... apparently, the place keeps track of which bands are bringing in the crowds with a highly sophisticated system of tally marks at the opening gate. after shouting out "are you crazy man? i'm here for the bsc!", i entered and officially felt like the old, creepy guy for the first time in my life. but this thought reeked of obsolescence, and i regathered my focus ... it was almost time.

while waiting, we formed a camp/college circle of security, and only talked to each other. all of us, except for baumann, who went back to his circle of beauties--the picture doesn't do it justice, but i swear he had eleven girls around him when it was taken. and then, at last, the god-awful opening band was kicked off the stage for being way too angst-ridden and way too untalented, and the culminating moment of the entire trip to texas had finally arrived ...


its the pink headband ... its gotta be the pink headband Posted by Hello

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