A Day in the Life

I gotta tell you guys a funny story. This past Sunday morning Simon was set to fly out to the Bay area for his sister's birthday party. It was a special day: she was turning 30, the party was a surprise, and Simon was an even bigger surprise. It was key he made this flight. Of course it left at 6:15 in the morning, which means that he and the person taking him -- uhm, that would be me -- would have to leave the house no later than 5 am to make the 20 minute drive, check baggage, and get through security.

Ordinarily this would not be too big of a deal BUT we had a gig the night before in Hood River. This typically means that we play 8 - 11 pm, hang out with the crowd for an hour, break down from midnight to 1:30 am, chat a little longer with the staff, and roll out by 2 am to get home around 3:15 am. So, let's take out our calculators, kids: if we get home around 3:15 am, and we have to leave at 5 am, at the most we are looking at a nice little nap of around 1.5 hours. Super!

Well, we do in fact get home at 3:15. I brush my teeth, climb in bed, set my alarm, and I'm out. At 4:45 my alarm rattles me awake. I hit the off button and close my eyes. About a minute later -- or what seemed like a minute later -- I opened my eyes and it was 5:23! Holy shit! I flew out of bed ran down to Simon's room. I heard his radio on but indeed Simon was still asleep -- drunk and asleep, as he had as many free beers as his belly would hold at the Double Mountain Brewery just a couple hours ago. I knock on the door and shout, "Simon! Wake up!" "Huh?" "Get UP. We gotta go!" I rush to the bathroom, pee, brush my teeth. 5:26. I walk back out and he is still NOT up. This time I crack the door, poke my head in and say firmly, "Simon, GET UP. We had to leave 20 minutes ago." At this I heard him sit up, look at his clock, and gasp. He throws on some clothes (I am guessing this was the case though I did not actually see it happen), grabs his bag and his laptop, and we head out the door. 5:30. We pile in Wes' truck and hit the road.

I happen to look down at the gas gauge, which is hovering below E. Oh no! We have to get gas!!!! We just would not make it to the airport. Oh, man. I race to the Arco along the way, roll down my window and say stiffly to the remarkably chipper attendant "$10 bucks please." He fills the tank and we roll out. 5:36. I speed to the highway entrance and once we get onto the highway I am driving 80 in a 55 all the way. Thankfully, its so darn early there is not a shred of traffic on the roads. Simon and I don't exchange many words: Simon is willing time to slow down, and I am praying to God that He extend a helping hand on this one.

After what seems like an eternity, we pull off onto the airport exit. 5:44. "What airline you got?" I ask. "Horizon Air." I motor down the long thoroughfare that leads to the terminals, pull off on departure drive, and go as fast as I can get away with through the drop-off area. The funniest thing was that I forgot I was driving a stick shift (yes, sometimes I'm a dope) and so when I come to a halt at the crosswalk, the truck bellows a gnarly grumble into a stall. (Sorry, Wes!) I totally laugh, start her up again, then pull over as fast as I can to drop Simon as close as possible to Horizon Air. As he grabs his bags, I look at my cell phone to grab the time. "Oh, Simon... It's 5:48. You're going to have to use your good looks." With no time for hugs he tosses a good-bye over his shoulder and runs through the airport doors.

I take a deep breath as I drive away, eager to recover my usual state of peace. I say one last prayer to God, then I turn up KINK FM, roll down the window, and enjoy the drive back. Upon reaching home, I climb into bed mumbling "bed... sweet, sweet, bed." I immediately fall asleep and I am pleased to discover later that no phone call ever came from the drummer boy who missed his flight.