No one could ever forget you-Rockin' the MidWest Part 3

I really wish that blogger would let me easily (by which I mean using no effort at all except maybe dragging and dropping) change the order of these posts so the events occurred in order.

I don't remember what I did between Waffle House and the Irish Fest. Maybe something terribly useful, although I suspect I dedicated most of the time to trying to recover from the godawful hangover that was battling for control of my body.
The last show, the last few pints of mediocre American beer posing as Irish ale the last sweat soaked jigs and reels the last rallying of unity. After the show I fell asleep in front of the traditional stage for close to half an hour then stumbled back to the hotel (nothing interesting happening there) made a phone call, and contemplated making another.
EXPLANATION: After the show I related how I had lost my copy of a certain book when I'd loaned it to someone who than became quite enchanted by me and I was unable for some reason (because, probably I was dealing with a very likable and sincere person that lived in the same county as me, thus rendering her completely not my type as either being located far away or emanating danger- preferably both -is necessary for me to find a person attractive. And I suppose there's the fact that I am talking about a woman, and I am still not sure exactly where I fall in that whole mess of humanity-somewhere in that hazy shade of gray area I think firmly playing for whatever team is most attractive at the moment. It made me nervous thinking that I may find myself firmly aligned with one proclivity or another by accepting the offers I was receiving.) I related this story to all the gang and to the singer. "So," I said, "I don't know if I can bring myself to call her after that and I'll probably never see the book again."
"OH, I dunno," he said, "I suspect there'll be a way. Any kind of relationship is good."
"Easy for you to say, when was the last time you had a male paramour?"
He smiled, "Don't you remember Danny Boy?" he said. And that was that.
She stayed in my mind-I knew I had to call her, but when exactly would be a good time to do that? She solved it for me, she called when I was 2 hours from Nashville, out of the blue to see how I was doing and invite me to a going away party for our mutual friend. Dammit boy, how did you know? Or is it not him that knew, maybe it was me--we had a good chat that would've lasted longer had my phone not died. It's true tho, we may not be a couple but we're quite a pair anyway. I really think I might need to send an email describing this-since it is so very random and really quite lovely.
AHH, but we're discussing Sunday. And there was not much at the hotel bar so I went to Tim Horton's for soup and bagel for dinner. I re-read my singed copy of Killing Yourself to Live and decided if when I went back after the course of one pint nothing worthwhile was going on I would just check into a hotel cost be damned and call it a night.
Of course you know what happened...
I saw the couple that had become my grand friends over the course of the weekend and we sat down and talked music and travel and shite. Then the bar began to fill and everyone you would expect turned up there. We all downed pints and told tales. A couple from CT that I bore memories of but couldn't remember exactly how much time we'd spent together or when (after all, it was on a drinking tour and I gotta say it might be that all parties were not present at that time tho quickly we became old friends) was to my right and we shared laughs and drinks and raised our glasses.
"I had to laugh when you posted about anyone that remembered you, as if anyone could FORGET you." The first night Mik had said, "You know them all?"
"Yeh," I said, "I do. I can't believe they know me tho."
"As if anyone could ever forget you."
At one point I got it into my head that what the bar needed was some honky tonk music and that was when I programmed "You Never Even Called me by my Name", "Whisky River" and "Travellin' Band" (as either a joke or an homage to the Big Lebowski I'm not sure) into the jukebox. This would've been really funny if anyone could hear the songs being played but the voices grew loud and riotous and the laughter drowned out my choice of tunes. And me trying to bring the mood to rabble rousing mode. There wasn't any Billy Joel or I would've played the whole album just to piss of the wrong side of the argument from the night before. Besides, how many times can a person hear Achtung Baby in one night? Yes, U2 is one of the great bands of all time. Yes, they're Irish. No, I do not need to have their worst album on constant replay just because it is semi-appropriate for the occassion-my God, at least put in How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb.
There was so much craic, and I know at times my laugh rang out above the crowd loud and pure. I felt so alive and at home with these people and I remembered how important that sense of community is and how stupid it is to let some little moment of foolishness distract one from that feeling of belonging. I want it back now, I don't have the money to go to the Labor Day weekend, but I might be able to get to a show during Fall Break-knock wood there might be one. I can't be away like that-I can't give it up again. This world, this unreality it's so real to me. Somewhere outside of the dole line and the stress and feeling of constantly being sick and tired there's this little relief this world inside a world a culture inside a culture a beautiful self formed folk idea that is purely ours. But you're welcome to join us if you don't mind not fully understanding the whole mess. We're fun, and we've never been known to run out of beer. God, the craic was mighty and I don't think I bought a single drink-does it get better than that.
Late into the night we drank and laughed and some musicians played trad music in the hall. It was 1 or 2 when I realized my promised sleeping space was gone---all of them---so I went off to the car and curled up in the back seat for 7 hours of sleep punctuated by drunken laughter from people remaining in the smoke pit and refusing to go to sleep (this area otherwise known as the far entrance of the hotel).In the morning I crawled into the front seat, drove to a nearby gas station and got cleaned up-until someone announced that it was time to clean the bathroom to the gas station. So I went back to that Tim Horton's read the same book after changing clothes and washing up in the bathroom. It was all so wild and unreasonable-I assume I still reeked of bars and beers but who would tell me that.
I drowned the smell of cigarettes in the car (I never smoked in the car) with coffee and met my parents and my dog and my new truck at the Giant Eagle.
We drank coffee and shared stifled and strange conversation outside on the patio-going home is easy, it's the saying goodbye that hurts. Even in short months we'll be apart we'll get older and then what.
Who will we be then and what will we be not saying to each other the next time we see each other?
Baxter hated the truck and much of the drive was dominated by his nervousness. I listed to a lot of talk radio and fought my exhaustion for 8 hours until I got home.
Back in East Nashville, I rolled down the windows and felt the heat and humidity as I drove the last couple of miles back to my apartment.
It's been a day of telling everyone that might care that I am safely back and tomorrow I begin the careful return to my existance as I have grown to know it.
And that, my dears, is the story so far....
peace.
m.