Road Trip (Part Three)

      Entering the mouth of the city, blinding lights invading our eyes, as we exit off the pitch black interstate. My brother pulls into the Liquor Barn parking lot bringing the Oldsmobile to a stop right at the entryway. Cigarette smoke pools around the headliner inside the car, as we make our way towards the entrance.
 
      The three of us enter the store while my brother waits outside like a getaway driver. Ever notice when you’ve been drinking and have to interact with the public that you do your damndest to appear sober. Even though there is no way to camouflage that fact sometimes.  
 
      Making my way down one of the aisles looking at all the choices, bottle after bottle of liquid courage and false interpretations. My partners in crime following close behind. New guy shouts out, “Damian, grab a fifth of Southern Comfort, as a matter of fact grab two.” I snatch them off the shelf then my eyes came into focus as I read the label.  
 
      “Holy shit! It’s 100 proof!", I shouted. We huddled in dismay that this was even possible, it’s always been 70 proof right? All of us smiling ear to ear as we headed to get the beer. Two cases of Heineken was surely enough we thought. After paying for our party favors we make our way to the car. Case and a half in the trunk, the rest came upfront with us.
 
       “Where we headed?”, my brother asked. Somehow the consensus was to see what’s going on downtown. Making small talk while passing the Comfort around for everyone to get a snort. Couple minutes later we see all the clubs and bars, people walking down the sidewalks with vacant stares while shouting incoherent sentences to anyone who’ll listen.
 
      This is what we came for, folks. We hear live music coming out of this one bar and it sounds promising. So we make a beeline for the nearest parking garage to stable the horseless carriage and continue on foot. After moving our booze to the trunk we made our way to the sidewalk.
 
      After bobbing and weaving through the crowded walkway we made it to the bar. It was the moment of truth, well for my brother at least. Remember he’s only 18, but he does look older so he’s got that going for him. My brother walks right by the bouncer who says nothing, so the rest of us file into the establishment.  
 
       Hears the skinny my friends, the teachable moment of this whole story. I’ve always looked after my brother since he chose to become a musician. I take my responsibilities as the older sibling very seriously. I always vetted the musicians who came into his orbit, I felt it was my duty to protect him. That being said, while putting this story to paper I’m realizing how bad of a job I was doing on this particular night.  
 
      Here’s my shot at redemption for coming up short so far. My friend and my brother headed straight for the stage to observe the band playing on that night. I headed to the bar, even though I’ve been away from the bottle for all of 10 minutes fucking minutes!  
 
      I didn’t realize that this wound still stings a little. Unwrapping this memory is making me face the demon who constantly tries to tempt me back down the rabbit hole. Sorry about the detour, folks. I needed a minute.
 
       New guy followed me up to the watering hole. I buy him a beer, Coors Light in fact. I start a conversation so I can observe. Just like I remembered the beer he brought to our house, I start to make mental notes of what’s behind his mask.  
 
      I’ve always been able to analyze people well, figure them out so to speak. I’m sensitive to bad vibes for some reason. Mainly because I hate surprises, or I could be paranoid. I’m pretty accurate by the way. I now know I got it from my mother and she is otherworldly with her ability. I’m not even close.  
 
      I’ve noticed all night that he’s cocky, almost blatantly arrogant. Also I haven’t seen him sober, so I can’t compare the contrast of how much of it is because of alcohol. What I do know is drinking gives you confidence but it also shows your truths.  
 
      Lead singer announces it’s the last number for the night. Barkeep shouts out last call. New guy rushes to the bar and brings back two beers, and hands me one. Ok, he’s a drinker but he has manners. But never in my wildest dreams could I have figured that this guy was just gonna be spilling some of his skeletons so effortlessly.
 
      He’s looking everywhere but at me as he talks about how great he is at everything. Especially playing the guitar. I mean laying it on thick with every narcissistic fiber in his being. Then he just goes silent, something has grabbed his attention and not another word uttered.
 
      I turn away for a second to look outside while lighting a cigarette, no more than I inhale he start’s pulling at my arm. Telling me that we need to leave now. I demand to know what crawled up his ass. His reply floored me, “It’s a gay bar, Damian!”
 
      That was the censored version, people. I would never speak the ignorance that poured out of his pie hole. His eyes were a mixture of hate and fear. I had never seen that look up close in my entire existence until that point. Now I unfortunately see it more than I can bare. But he was the first human in real time.  
 
      I was stunned by the experience, I didn’t even feel buzzed anymore. My brother and friend didn’t see his outburst. He had toned down his language while rustling them towards me and pushing us towards the exit.  
 
      By the time we got back in the car, he changed his vibe to joking about the whole thing. Knowing they were none the wiser, he took a swig of Southern Comfort, then handed the bottle to me. Our eyes locked, he knew I saw the real him, the one he tries to hide behind a mask.  
 
      I passed the bottle to my friend refusing to take a drink. I didn’t break my gaze till he turned away. That was a long ride home to say the least. My mind finished making up the profile of this piece of work. For the war of attrition between me and new guy had begun.  
 
      After arriving back at my work buddies house to get my friends car, my brother and friend start to tell him goodbye. He up and decided to wake the poor couple back up, to crash in their spare bedroom. This was like 4:00 in the morning.  
 
      Right before we turned to leave, he said he was interested in starting a project with us. My brother and friend told him they’d be in touch. I just stared through him, as he dawned a shit-eating grin. I wish I could say it ended there, but it doesn’t.
 
      It lead to me never singing in a band again. And another 6 months of convincing my brother and friend this ain’t the guy. But that’s another story for another day. In the end the truth prevailed but it took a while.