Blogs
August 21, 2008
The Tale of the Walko Bell...
Ok, so I'd been working on another massive blog of Tropical Storm Blog proportions, but right before it could turn into the Gulf of Blogxico and gain strength into a Catagory 1 Bloggicane, terrorizing the Bloggitan Peninsula with its torrential verbal downpours and e-mudslides, I got completely derailed by other events, of a similar "South of the Border" theme. Fasten your sombrero and light a cigar. If you get lost, ask for Bill Carson....*AH eh AH eh AHhhhhhh...bow bow bowwww* (that was supposed to be the Good, Bad and Ugly theme song....)
So we'd just finished up a set at a venue in Columbus OH called the Basement. It's a quaint little place, I like it, in the same complex as a big theater where we'd played with 3EB back in April. We had some new friends out for the show, and it was great to put some faces with people that here-to-fore we'd only known in the online realm. We got a chance to hang with one of our awesome Ohio street team leaders (Mary), a really cool guy named Keith that had seen us with 3EB, and a girl named Lindsay that we'd met because she has cool music taste, as well as a litany of other new friends. It was a great show and we hope to get back to Columbus soon to water that seed!
Afterwards, as per usual in this band, is when the fun starts to kick in, double turbo.
Every band has its performance traditions. Some huddle together en masse before the show, arms twined and braided together, and sing a song to get them pumped, usually a standard composition from the songbook of one Leonard Skynard, not of operatic composing fame. Some bands light candles on the front of the stage, either to set the mood, ward off the evil spirits, or make some lame attempt at thumbing their nose at the anti-pyro community. Some bands ritualistically destroy their equipment through the final bars of the final song's last chorus in a fortissimo display of pointless ephemera. On and on and on.
Absentstar eats.
Thats right, as soon as the show is over, we climb into our touring rig Brimley, and go on a hunt for food. Some nights we are in a "take what you can get" situation, like the local Waffle Puke, the little cement cube bathed in the warm glow if it's nicotine yellow sign. Sometimes you will luck out with the top end of the burger-choke spectrum and locate a Big Boy, with their totally ironic sign that is oriented more towards the prophetic than market advertising. There's always the grand slam at Denny's. Ew/ If you can get in under the gun, Arby's can be a top notch establishment, even though their old 5 for 5 is now like 3 and half for 7. Thats not a menu item, its Vegas odds. Most nights we settle for the golden arches.
However tonight Andy had a real hankering for Taco Bell. Now and then when I'm driving and he is hungry, I'll look over to ask him which speedy culinary delight he fanicies. Then my eyesight does a quick zoom in of his face as he turns to look at me, and simultaneously Derek strikes a dark chord on his acoustic guitar while Marshall begins shaking a rattle made of real rattlesnake tail. And will say, in a gruff and raspy tone, "Taco Bell, my friend. Take me there, now. Vomenos!!!".
So miles away from Columbus, our scouts spy the signs of impending gordita gratification. As we get closer and closer, the exact location of our once immenent paradise now escapes our trained eyes. Traveling further down the dark lane reveals that even though Taco Bell should be open till 2AM or later, it's closed at 11:50. Jip. As we pull the rig through ther parking lot, we notice through the faint pink and blue neon blazing through the window that the entire staff of mid-Ohio taco heaven is sitting in the back of a Dodge pick up truck, blazing. One of them actually had the audacity to wave at us.
Onward we go. Next up was the ever-open and detrimental multi-threath of Mickey D's. As we roll up into their lot, something seems amiss. The whole building is covered with plastic sheeting, and spray painted on it in multiple place is the word OPEN, in crude and creepy block letters. Someone in the van mentions that we should paint the words "I Know What You Did Last Summer" on the plasitc, and that seems appropriate. You can almost make out some weirdo in a shatner mask standing on the other side of the polymer wall, butcher knife in hand, waiting to me into his next all beef patty and Marshall into the special sauce, lettuce, cheese....etc. Never the less, the silver circus proceeds to the ordering station, only to be greeted with a wholly unhuman voice, insulting us with "This location is closed, please try one of our other locations." Dude...your big damn signs says OPEN. and all the lights are on! LAME. I yell a couple of choice words at the electronic voice coming over the horn, and head back towards the interstate.
Now more than hungry, we are on a mission. Thirty miles later, we reach our goal. The fates have smiled on us, and there is another Taco Bell, who knew there would be so many??? As we get up there, things start looking really nice. For one, the lights are on, which is a crucial indicator of the open status of the place. The billboard says "Grand Opening 10AM!". I don't know what's crazier, that this place has just opened this morning, or that someone was buying something with the moniker supreme containing refried beans at 10AM. Ew.
I'm still at the wheel, and if you know anything about my driving skillz and fast food drive throughs, you know the relationship is tenuous or strained at best. Remember when I crashed into th McDonalds in reverse, nearly killing the band and taking out the lettuce washing station. Well, I pull up to the drive through, and I see a full-on 90 degree turn to get to the window. It's narrow, and there is no way brim can make it through these dire straights of impending consequence and ridicule. Andy concurs with me that I should back it out, so I do. But now, since the drive through is the only thing open, the question of how we'll get our taco treats remains.
Andy decides to talk to them. He strolls up to the door, knocking ever harder, begins pointing towards the van, waving, pointing, waving, pointing, frantic motions of a desperate hungry man who is ever so close to enchilada glory. Two people in lovely restaurant issue brown smocks come to the door. Andy is doing his best to explain to them, with exotic hand gestures and an oddly place pelvic thrust, that we want to order foor, but Brimley can't make the tight turn. They look over the van. It looks like they are skepticle. We immediately regret sending in a negotiator that has a beard. But then the stranges thing happens. I'm guessing they had heard about the McDonalds disaster through the fast food chain grapevine, and were wanting to avoid a similar episode that might damage their shiny new local. The two employees go inside, shrugging as they look at each other, and Andy pumps his fist in victory, walking towards the drive thru talk box, yelling at us that they are gonna let him order. I get the camera for documentation purposes, the pictures of which I will post shortly. Andy is up first, makes his order, and moves on to the window, strutting with confidence in his negotiating skill. Marshall, Noel and I are lined up like regular Chicago traffic, waiting to also place our order. I feign honking with a verbal BEEP BEEP to get Marshall to speed up a bit. When Noel is up, the voice on the intercom asks if he has a car or if he is one of the walkers. As we walk up to the window to pay, a head pops out of the window and says "Nice Car!!"
There you have it, the tale of Ohio's Walko Bell.
Hope you enjoyed it! See you soon!
Heath.absentstar
posted by Derek Ingersoll on 8/21/2008 2:32:04 AM