I mean, I know I didn’t. But I wasn’t as far away as you might think.
But the sadness did start to fade bit by bit. And after a month or so everyone was doing a little better, and we went out for another dinner at that same restaurant, and they told me they loved me and I was all the son they ever needed, and they told me this was a very sad and difficult episode but it made them realize they had exactly the family that they wanted, and they weren’t interested in expanding the family anymore. And we did a thing where each of us went around the table and told the other two about our love for them, and Dad told me that I brought him immeasurable pride and happiness every minute of every day, and Mom told me I was her beating heart, walking around outside her body. And I don’t remember what I told them but I don’t think it was as good as that. But it still made everyone get teary-eyed and close and happy, at least in the moment.
And that was the only time Mom ever got pregnant, and the only time we ever had a dog or any kind of pet, and that was the point when they really started letting me do what I wanted. That was the moment where ever since, they’ve given me a ton of trust and independence and let me for the most part take care of my own shit. And in retrospect that seems crazy, because I was eight and a half, but at the time I felt like I deserved it, and I guess they just knew they had a kid on their hands whose biggest motivation was to do the company proud.
ASH: it’s a little fucked up that you think of your family as a company
WES: it’s just a turn of phrase
ASH: no i get it
WES: i mean you’re not wrong, it is fucked up
[it is four in the morning and ash is looking at wes in a way that he can’t figure out]
ASH: can i sleep here?
WES: yeah
ASH: i just want to sleep here. no sex or anything
WES: yeah no of course not
ASH: not “of course not” but just not tonight
WES: okay
She smiled and very quickly took off everything except her underwear and got under the sheet, and I stripped down to my boxers and got under the sheet, too, and I lay kind of rigidly on my side of the bed but she scooched over and kind of nestled into me from the side, and we lay like that the whole night.
She was asleep pretty quickly but I got no sleep at all, and forget what I said about the happiness of the sushi dinner back in Shippensburg, those three or four hours were definitely the happiest I will ever be.
20.
HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A FAMILY THAT YOU THOUGHT WAS COOL WITH YOUR FREE-SPIRITED ADVENTUROUS LACK OF PARENTAL CONSENT BUT IS ACTUALLY CONTACTING THE POLICE IN FIVE EASY-TO-FOLLOW STEPS
Step One. Be awake when the woman who invited you to stay at this house in the first place contacts the police
This is going to be around seven in the morning. You’re going to be lying in bed with your guitarist/lead singer, and you’re going to be awake because of the boner that you’ve had for the last three hours. At this point the boner has nothing to do with being sexually aroused. It’s more of an athletic boner, if that makes any sense. It’s more like your dick is seeing how many sit-ups it can do. Okay. You’re lying there in the childhood bed of a dude named Quincy and your guitarist/lead singer is quietly snoring into your face, and from downstairs you’re going to hear this woman, whom you thought you could trust, shamelessly betray you to the police over the phone. “Could I please speak to Officer Whaley,” you will hear her say. “John? Is that you? John, I have three children staying over at my house that I believe ran away from home,” you will hear, and it will be like a punch to the gut. “Well, don’t come too much later because they might be up soon. All right. Thank you, John. All righty then.” Oh shit, you will think. Charlize, what are you doing. We trusted you. Shit. Okay. What do we do now.
Step Two. Wake up your bandmates
Okay. Pull on clothes, accidentally smash your toe on something, try not to hop around, and wake up your guitarist and tell her you guys need to get out of there immediately. Then tiptoe out into the hall and wake up your drummer. He has barfed a little bit again in the night, or maybe you just didn’t do as good a job cleaning him up as you thought. Anyway, it’s immediately going to be clear that he will not be the most helpful part of your team. Meanwhile, your guitarist is in the bathroom and won’t get out. So everything is already all going straight to hell.
Step Three. Take matters into your own hands
What you need to do is get the instruments packed into the car and ready to go before the police get there, but once you go downstairs and start packing up the car Charlize is probably going to call the police back and tell them to hurry up, so maybe your first task is making it harder for her to call the police. Okay. You’re going to take an upstairs phone off the hook and put it under a pillow, and then you’re going to very slowly and carefully tiptoe downstairs, where fortunately no one is in the living room, and you’re going to spend a few minutes creeping around the first floor like a cartoon burglar, and eventually you’re going to spot Charlize through the window, working in the garden. Her cell phone is on the kitchen counter. Awesome. Put it in the fridge. And then just to be super sure she can’t call the police you’re going to go down into the basement and find the fusebox and flip the Main switch and shut off all the power to the entire house.
Although, this actually is sort of a tactical error, because from outside you hear Charlize go, “Oh, now what,” because she has noticed that her radio plus all the lights in the house have suddenly shut off, and you hear her come inside and yell, “Ed! Wake up and check the power.” So it is safe to say that you’ve lost the element of stealth, and your only remaining asset is, probably, speed. So run back up out of the basement past Charlize, who upon glimpsing you immediately assumes the worst and screams, “ED! HELP!! ED.” Christ. Okay. Run outside to where the drums aren’t packed or anything and just pick up a chunk of the drum set and carry it to the car, except the car is locked, so bellow the names of both of your bandmates and run back inside and up the stairs. Corey is just sitting on his bed squinting at nothing. Oh my God. Corey, get your shit into the car, we need to leave right now, the police are coming. Ash, let’s go. The bathroom door opens and Ash sullenly exits a bathroom that definitely still has unflushed poop in the toilet. Wow. All right. Just grab the car keys from Corey and hustle back down the stairs with as much of everyone’s stuff as you can get, and open the car, and just start cramming shit in there. Amps, drums, the guitars that the church dudes very thoughtfully put back in their cases. Patch cables. Ash is helping you. Eventually, Corey shows up. Meanwhile, Charlize is glaring at you guys from a safe distance and scribbling your license plate onto an envelope. “I’m really, really sorry,” you tell Charlize. “We just can’t go back home yet.” “ED,” she just keeps yelling. “ED. EEEEEDDDDDD.” Neighbors are excitedly filtering out of their homes to watch what is happening. Okay. You’re all packed up. There’s no room in the backseat but you’ll make it work. “Charlize, your phone is in the fridge,” you say. “Thank you so much for hosting us and also saving my life, and please don’t call the cops again,” and you’re about to all squeeze into the car when there suddenly is Ed, on the front porch, in a white shirt and tight white underwear, holding a shotgun, blinking away the sleep from his eyes.
Step Four. Attempt to reason with a guy with, I’m not shitting you, an honest-to-God shotgun
Ed. I’m really sorry about this. We just want to hit the road. That’s all we want to do. We’re super grateful to you guys, and we’re sorry about the toilet, which we clogged. Which I clogged. I was the one who, in particular, clogged it. But my understanding is, that toilet was fucked up before we even—what? Wait. What. No. No no no. Ed. We didn’t take anything, I promise. That’s not what we do. Our point was to play music for you guys, and we got to do that, it was great, thank you, and now we’re going to hit the road. The fuse thing was just, I freaked out and made a stupid decision, and if you just go down and flip the switch back,
it should be fine. Okay. Ed. That’s it. That’s all I’m gonna say, and I know you’re not gonna like this, but we’re just going to get in the car and drive down the road. And I know you’re not gonna shoot. So my bandmates are getting in the car, and I’m getting in the car now, and that’s what we’re doing. I know you’re not going to shoot, because you’re a good dude. And Charlize, you’re a good woman, and I hope you get better. You’re really good people. You have a beautiful family. Okay. Bye.
Step Five. Casually yet swiftly drive the hell out of there
Drive. Ed doesn’t shoot. No one follows you. After five blocks of zigzagging, you are suddenly right in front of the police station. Jesus Jesus Jesus, everyone in the car says, and then pretends that everything’s cool. The police pay your car zero attention and in fact may not even be home. And after another fifteen minutes you’re on some kind of little local highway. Corey needs to repack his drums so they’re in their cases and not banging around and getting all fucked up and also so there’s room for someone to sit in the back. So you pull over at a gas station. You get out of the car and stare at your reflection in the window.
ASH: thanks for saying it was you who clogged the toilet
WES: that’s what bandmates do
COREY: why don’t you guys just fuck already and get it over with
21.
WE MAKE A RUN FOR THE BORDER
Once again, we found ourselves driving a car whose plates were being looked for by the police. But this time it seemed a little more urgent. So stopping to find another used car to buy was out of the question. Instead we figured our biggest priority was to get across state lines ASAP. We actually had no idea if that made any difference, but it seemed like the thing that was most likely to.
Somehow there was no consensus about which way we shouldn’t go. Like which direction was not a state border but instead the ocean. Ash said east, I said south, and Corey incredibly thought there would be ocean to the north. His position was, we were probably in the sticking-out part of the South where if you go north, you hit the ocean. Ash and I both resisted the temptation to dick on him for this completely insane belief. But our embarrassed silence just made him angrier.
Anyway, we headed west. No one knew what state was in that direction. Texas? Louisiana? Florida? The ocean maybe if all three of us were wrong? It was incredible not to know. It was so stupid that it was actually kind of glorious.
We also figured we had to stay off the big highways. So instead we mostly just took weird little back roads. Ash drove, Corey rode shotgun, and I was in the backseat. Our predominant theme of discussion was what do we do if the police show up and start chasing us.
WHAT DO WE DO IF THE POLICE SHOW UP AND START CHASING US
A Decision Tree
1. Are they in a car or on horseback?
in a car: Then we’re not outrunning them, that’s for sure.
on horseback: We’re probably still not outrunning them. Unless the horse’s Check Engine light is also on and it has smoke coming out of its butt.
2. What kind of road are we on? A highway or an obscure little back road? Or some railroad tracks?
on a highway: Get off the highway ASAP and try to find an obscure little back road.
on an obscure little back road: Great. Actually, maybe we should find some railroad tracks.
why would we be on some railroad tracks: Because no highway cop gets paid enough to follow three teenage psychos up some railroad tracks!! Wes hand me a Mike and Ikes.
3. Railroad tracks are impossible to drive on. Also if a train shows up, it is going to destroy the car and all of our instruments.
also the train might get fucked up and this is starting to sound like something we will definitely go to jail for: Okay. Well, maybe the tracks have like a shoulder or something where you can drive next to them.
but then wouldn’t the police just do that, too: Okay. Well, sorry for trying to come up with a completely fierce plan.
OW FUCK. What.
THIS PIECE OF SHIT SEAT STABBED ME. IT’S FINE. Okay.
4. Okay. So we’re being pursued by the police. Maybe we can lose them by driving into the forest or whipping around the corner into a conveniently abandoned barn or aircraft hangar and then immediately turning off the car and sitting in the darkness while they roll past all confused and stuff.
no. none of those forest/barn/hangar options are gonna work: Why the fuck not. Wes hand me some washcloths.
if we drive right into the forest, it’s not gonna lead to anything good: What because of all the trees and roots and stuff?
it’s just not paved, which you kind of need if you’re driving, especially fast, especially a shitty car: Okay. Yeah. I get it. Fine. But if there’s a barn, we should get in there.
okay but how many abandoned barns or aircraft hangars have we passed so far? have we even passed one?: You know what? I’m gonna stop trying to come up with shit. Because what’s the point.
sorry but we just need to think everything through: No, it’s fine.
Sorry. It’s fine. I guess we’re not losing the police or outrunning them, so we’d have to pull over.
5. Are the police going to shoot us if we run out of the car once we pull over?
probably: Well, then I guess we kind of have no options at all.
probably not: Then let’s all run in opposite directions, lose them in the forest or wherever we are, and rendezvous in New Orleans in three days. My old guitar teacher Onnie has a restaurant there. It’s called Lime Tree.
6. So the plan is, everybody scatter and just leave the car and the instruments and stuff.
yup: I’ll pay for all your shit. Don’t worry. That’s always the agreement. Never worry about money on this tour. I’ve got that covered.
7. Is this even technically a decision tree?
i don’t know: I guess now that I think about it I’m not super clear on what a decision tree is.
At some point in the conversation, I fell asleep and stayed asleep for a super long time. When I woke up, it was past noon, and the police had not yet put our decision tree to the test. Instead, we were in the parking lot of a Buffalo Wild Wings.
WES: are we across state lines yet?
COREY: don’t be a dick
WES: how is that question being a dick
ASH: corey was supposed to keep an eye out for a Welcome to Whatever State This Is sign, but he hasn’t been
COREY: it probably says on the menu or whatever
It did. We were in Furio, Mississippi. No one knew how it had happened. But it had, and we were all filled with relief, even if that made no sense.
We did not even try to ask if we could play a show at the Buffalo Wild Wings. It was clearly not the kind of bar where bands were supposed to play. It was the kind of bar where you were supposed to watch sports on enormous TVs while experiencing the maximum amount of air-conditioning that the human body could withstand, and also eat meals of only breaded fried meats and dipping sauces. This air-conditioning was incredible, and we briefly discussed eating a breaded fried meat meal, but decided not to, to conserve the cash that we had gotten from Ash’s now-probably-frozen bank account. And anyway we had more urgent matters to attend to. Also it was so cold that we were all already getting ice-cream headaches just from the air.
Instead we made another kind of horrifying food purchase at a gas station and set off on a great quest.
ASH: we gotta find a place to play that makes sense for us to play and doesn’t suck
WES: yeah
COREY: nnhh
ASH: that’s been our problem this whole tour so far
WES: yup
ASH: and we have to accept that it’s going to take some time to find a place like that, so let’s invest some time in searching for a great place to play, like in one area
WES: yeah
COREY: wes can you stop saying “yeah” to everything because it’s fucking annoying
WES: hell yeah
ASH: haha
/> COREY: jesus christ
WES: you know how there’s bobby, the guy who hangs out near james brown affirming everything james brown says? i think our band needs a bobby
COREY: i think our band needs a me slapping you around
WES: yeah
22.
THE BAND CHANGES ITS NAME TO “CAMPIG” AND THEN LOCATES THE MOST HURTING BAR IN A HUNDRED-MILE RADIUS
Our first task, however, was to identify a place where we could spend the night without arousing local interest. We settled on a campground that was advertised from the road by a banner strung between two trees. The banner was 70 percent white space, 30 percent pictures of bottles of Miller Lite. In the white space someone had scrawled:
CAMPIG
12,—$
It’s hard to say what intrigued us more: the idea of staying at a place for twelve dollars a night, or the word “campig.” Even Corey perked up briefly.
COREY: what if our band name was “campig”?
[a contemplative silence]
ASH: it’s a little close to danzig, so i’m wondering does it make me think of loud angry hairy jock metal
COREY: no. no one will think that
WES: what if people think it’s a kind of pig
COREY: jesus wes. listen to yourself
WES: i was just doing your thing that you were doing earlier
COREY: what thing
WES: the thing that you were like with the name air horse where you were like what if people think we’re a horse, ugh, i hate that
COREY: air horse sucks as a name but i don’t remember making that specific point
WES: you were like air horse makes me think of a horse singing with a human voice and then you melted down existentially
COREY: yeah because that’s a nightmare hellscape thing to think about but this is completely different because it’s not a horse and it’s not even a pig. it’s campig
WES: i see
COREY: even if it was a pig, a pig singing is awesome
ASH: we can try campig if both of you promise to stop talking about it