Chapter 10: Life in the Fast Lane

Medway High School

2:57pm, Thursday, February 15, 1979

First off, I agreed to start a new band with my next door neighbors, which wasn’t too crazy as I always had a dream of playing in a rock band. After I agreed to play in Paul and Cathy’s band, I was given a beautiful Gibson Custom guitar by Samantha Labatt, an heiress to the Canadian brewery giants. I just happened play that guitar like a pro the first time I strapped it on, in order to shut-up a snarky music teacher. All those musical thoughts put a big grin on my face.

However, I then thought of how I almost got into two separate scraps in less than 6 hours. One was with the neighborhood bully and one with my 19-year-old brother. Hell, on my first trip through high school, I only got in one fight with that big bully, and here I was, nose to nose with him and my brother in one day. ‘Dang,’ I thought, ‘what has gotten into me this pass through high school?’

Lastly, two amazing erotic sights came into my mind as I recalled seeing both Lynette’s braless breast and Samantha’s nearly bare boob, today. What the hell was up with that I thought? Most 16-year-old guys would kill to see those forbidden sights and both times I tried to be a real gentleman and didn’t take advantage of those enticing opportunities. Suddenly, my 16-year-old brain was in conflict with my 40-year-old mind as the images of Lynette’s and Sam’s boobs flooded my thoughts and caused an unwanted response down in new my blue jeans. ‘Shit, shit, shit stop it, Mike‘ I pleaded with myself as I walked into the locker room.

Thankfully, when I saw Gary glaring daggers at me as I walked by him to my dressing area, all thoughts of Lynette’s and Sam’s 16-year-old breasts vanished from my mind. I changed quickly into my practice uniform and hustled down to the gym with Jon and Andy. They asked if I wanted a ride home tonight, but I told them I’d take the bus as I had already told some friends I’d meet up with them and ride home on it.

Practice was surprisingly easy as Coach Williamson said he didn’t want to tire us out too much because we were going to go full throttle with our full court press in tomorrow’s game. Nobody thought Glencoe would give us much of a problem, but I was still a little worried because it was going to be my first starting role.

Coach Williamson called me over at the end of our short practice and asked if everything was alright with me. He said, “I had a telephone call from Mr. Jefferies, this morning, and he said you and Gary were nose to nose about something. Then, this afternoon, I heard you and your brother got into it in the cafeteria. Have you become a little too big for your britches, now, that you’re a few inches taller and somewhat stronger?”

“No, sir,” I said, “Gary was pissed at me from last night when I blocked his shot, and Paul McGregory opened his mouth about it on the bus. All that did was fire up the big guy’s anger, again. I just informed him that I didn’t want any follow up activity on his part because of Paul’s comment. Hopefully, the message got through to him.”

“Ok, I hope so too. What about with your brother?”

I let out a long sigh at this line of questioning from my coach and vice principal. “I went over to ask him if he wanted to join a band that Paul, Cathy and I were thinking of starting. Well, he basically laughed in my face, and said that was an absolutely stupid idea. When I then told him he better not go whine to our mother, like he is prone to do when I’m doing something good and fun, he uh, challenged me in the cafeteria. I just stood my ground with him, and let him know I wasn’t the little pushover he previously tried to intimidate. Hopefully, nothing will come of it but you never know with Patt.”

“Yes, hopefully nothing will. Try and be the better man, and let both of those things go,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and we walked towards the exit to the varsity locker room.

“And what do I do if they don’t want to let these incidents go?” I asked.

“Well, I hate to say this as your vice principal, but sometimes you’ve got to let either a bully or an older brother know things are different now. Understand?”

I looked up at him, slowly nodded and said, “Understood.” I didn’t like that option but I knew there was a possibility it would come to letting one or both of them know that things were indeed different this time in my life.

5:15pm - Late Bus

“I still can’t believe Samantha basically gave you that guitar,” Cathy said as she sat beside me in the 3^rd seat from the front of the bus. “And, and everyone in band was buzzing about your guitar performance in your music class. Damn, Mike, that gift you got from the Energy guys sure seems to be working out for you, for all of us actually.”

I’m sure I was blushing profusely as I listened to Cathy and Paul’s stories about what transpired during band practice. “You know how it is when the Little-Man pushes your buttons,” I replied. “Well, he finally pushed the wrong one with me and I just felt, you know, FELT like I had to take on his challenge. And you know what? ... He actually apologized to me and Samantha afterwards for saying those things to me, to us.”

“Get out!” Paul said in amazement, “he really apologized?”

“He sure did, and I think he might even try to tone down his words because we both let him know other students didn’t like how he said things, sometimes.”

“That will be an even bigger miracle than you reliving your life ... if that actually happens,” Cathy deadpanned. “To uh, to change subjects slightly, I also heard you asked your brother, there,” and she slowly turned around and pointed to the back of the bus where my brother was sulking with Gary’s older brother Ronnie, “if he wanted to play piano, keyboards with us. Didn’t turn out too good, huh?”

“That would be an understatement,” I chuckled out. “We damn near came to blows in the cafeteria over his response.”

“Told yeah it was a waste of time,” Paul chimed in with a laugh. “So uh, are you going to ask the girl I’m thinking you should ask?”

I looked at Cathy to gauge her reaction to her brother’s question, and when she raised her eyebrows up and smiled at me, I said, “If you’re good with her, I think she would be a great addition to our little group. But only if you’re OK with it.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Paul asked. “Is there something I don’t know here between Lynette and Cath?”

I took a second to formulate what I was going to say to Paul here when Cathy replied, “We, uh, both liked the same guy but I’m good with her, now. If she’s as good as a musician as she is a keyboardist-piano player, then I’d be stupid to rule her out over a minor, prior hurt feeling or two.”

“What guy?” her brother asked point-blank.

“Give it a rest, Paul, it’s not important,” Cathy softly said to her confused brother. Once again, I was thankful he did as Cathy requested and let that topic slide. I even let out a small sigh after I saw Cathy glance back at me and smile.

Then, when I took a real good look at her face, I once again saw that look of unbridled lust in her eyes. ‘Oh crap,’ I thought, ‘What is going on here with her right now?‘ and ‘Please don’t let this turn into a cat-fight situation between these two beautiful girls.‘

When the bus let the eight Bryanston-ites off at the main intersection of our small village, I told Paul and Cathy that I’d bring my guitar over to their garage after I ate and finished up about 20 minutes of personal finance homework. Both of them said they’d be ready to go around 7:30, so we agreed to meet at that time.

When Patt and I got to our front door, he finally broke his silence and said, “So, uh, you really can play guitar, can you?”

“Yeah, I can. I was a little surprised at how easily it came to me, today but I’ve practiced on Mr. T’s acoustic guitar a little bit, so it wasn’t totally unfamiliar to me.”

(Note: Mr. T was Paul and Cathy’s dad, my second dad. His first name is Tom, hence the name.)

“Well, I’m sorry for what happened in the cafeteria. But uh, I just don’t think I want to play piano in your band.”

I smiled back at him when he apologized and tried to keep it on my face when he confirmed what I had already figured out. “Look man, I sure as hell don’t want to fight with you, and having to butt heads all the time isn’t a lot of fun, either. Can’t we simply co-exist without hoping each other drops dead, half the time?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said as he put his key in the front door and opened it up. “Just try not to show off too damn much with your sports, and now your band. It gets a little old hearing about my little brother’s exploits all the time.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to show you up,” I replied. “I’m just doing things I like and surprisingly, good things happen. Still, I know what you mean.”

“Alright, ‘nuff said on this,” he replied and smacked me semi-playfully on my arm.

“Hello, boys,” my mom said as she saw us acting civilly for the first time in a long time. “How was your day and what on earth is that?” My mother added when she saw the guitar case and amplifier, which I set down in the front entrance way.

“A friend sort of gave me this guitar and amplifier to use. So, I brought it home with me, today,” I replied.

“How does someone sort of give you a guitar system?” she incredulously asked.

“Well, she already has four other guitars and uh, she said she wasn’t using this one and wanted me to play it. I didn’t ask for it mom, she really offered it to me.”

“She, who is she, now?” my mother continued on with her grilling, which put a bigger smile on my brother’s face.

“Her name is Samantha Labatt, of THE Labatt brewery family,” Patt said before I could reply.

“So, it wasn’t this Lynette girl you are going on a date with tomorrow?” she inquisitively asked.

“No, Mom. Samantha is a new girl at our school and she’s in the band, which is playing tomorrow night. And yes, she is a Labatt but you couldn’t tell it by looking at her. She’s just a real sweet girl.”

“She’s definitely not hard on the eyes,” Patt chimed in, “and I didn’t know she was in the band that is playing tomorrow night.”

“She sure is. She mostly plays guitar and shares singing duties with another guy.”

“Okay, okay,” my mom replied. “Dinner is almost ready. We’re having spaghetti with meatballs, and there is some sauce without meat ... for you,” she said to Patt. No one in our family could figure out how he became a vegetarian after growing up feasting on homegrown roasts and steaks from Uncle Eddie’s farm.

“Thanks, Mom,” he replied as he headed upstairs with his book bag. I just plopped down in the comfy arm chair and pulled out my finance worksheet and notebook. It was just as easy for me to knock these few questions out down here as up at my desk.

When we heard my dad pull into the drive, my mom asked me to get my brother from upstairs. I quickly finished up the last of my homework and flew up the stairs. After I opened the bedroom door, I told my brother that dad was home, and mom said to come on down for dinner. I heard a drawer slam shut and he said he would be down after he went to the bathroom.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my older sister was just shutting the front door. When she saw me, she said, “Dang, Mike, you really are a good bit bigger. I didn’t believe dad when he told me that on the way into work this morning. What happened to you?”

I just smiled at her and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Mary. You absolutely wouldn’t believe a word I said.”

As she hung her scarf and jacket up on the coat rack by the door, she looked at me and said, “Try me.”

“Okay,” I replied, “but it will have to be later though.” She cocked her head slightly at me, but then nodded her head at my request. “Dinner’s ready, Mom said,” I told her as we walked through the living room to the kitchen.

After eating two large plates of pasta and four slices of garlic toast, I sat at the table and read the London Free Press. My mom looked at me a little funny when she saw me grab the front section of the paper to read. I guess she wasn’t use to me reading anything other than the sports section or the comics in the paper. That was another difference from my first trip through high school as I really enjoyed reading both the Tuscaloosa News and the USA Today newspapers during my former adult life.

At 7pm, I went into the living room and sat in my grandpa’s old rocking chair and watched as my dad adjusted the aerial antenna to help bring in a clearer picture of Detroit’s WXYZ TV station. Even though CKCO from Kitchener carried the same TV show, my dad couldn’t stand the stupid Canadian commercials that replaced the ones shown on the US station. Tonight, he wasn’t having too much luck pulling in Charlie’s Angels from Detroit, so he swore a few times at the TV, and then changed the channel to the clearer Canadian counterpart.

I knew better than to say anything to him, so I simply enjoyed seeing the clear picture of two of the three beautiful ‘Angels’ in some smokin’ hot swimsuits. While I was initially a little upset when Farrah Fawcett quit that show after one season, Cheryl Ladd definitely more than made up for the ‘eye-candy quotient’. Ms. Ladd was on our TV strutting around in a skimpy white bikini, while Jacqueline Smith was scorching hot in her flowered one-piece suit. While she was not as bodacious as her blonde counterpart, I found Ms. Smith’s brunette looks and tight little body to be quite captivating.

At about 7:15, I told my mom that I was going over to Paul’s, and we were going to play our instruments in his garage. She never looked up from the paper as she said, “Don’t make too much noise, and be home by 9:30, please.”

“‘K, Mom, I will.” I grabbed my jacket, my new guitar and amp and headed on over to Paul and Cathy’s garage. I knew it would be unlocked, so I lifted up the garage door and turned on the lights. Sitting at the back was Cathy’s shiny royal blue, Tama drum kit, and Paul’s bass amplifier and guitar case. I walked over to them and set my amp and guitar case down. As I uncovered my amp, I heard their back door open and Paul laughingly yell out, “Get out of my garage, you dastardly thief or I’ll call the cops on you.”

I smiled and yelled back, “Go ahead, you know nothing, bass player.” Paul just laughed as he bounded into the garage and watched me get my guitar set up alongside his bass system.

“Let me get the main sound system cranked, so we can play along with some music,” Paul said as he rubbed his hands together in the chilly garage area. “Cathy will be out in a second after she puts up a load of clothes for Berrr-tha.”

I always smiled whenever Paul called his mother by her first name. Their parents really didn’t mind being called by their first names, but hearing how he says his mom’s name just cracked me up. I probably would have gotten a swift backhand across the choppers, if I called my dad, ‘George’ within close proximity of him.

“Uhhh, what volume setting do you have your amp set to?” I asked him. “I figure I would go along with what you have, seeing how they are both Fender amps.”

“I think it’s at 4.5 or 5. It’s not set real high as we don’t have Cathy’s drums set up to go through any speakers, and I uh, we could easily overpower her sound, if we go much higher than that.”

“Gotcha. What are you going to put in first?”

“Don’t know, what do you wanna play along with?” he replied as he came over and grabbed his bass case and opened it up. I loved the look of his teal and black Fender Telecaster bass. “I, uh, need to let this bad boy warm up here for a minute with it sitting out here in this chilly temperature.”

“Why don’t you take it inside with you?” I simply asked.

“Well, duh! God I’m such an idiot at times. Why the hell don’t I take it in? Jeezes!” Paul just shook his head as he lightly plucked on each string to cause a small sound vibration to run through his bass system.

I laughed at his self-putdown and chuckled out, “Dude, you’re supposed to treat your baby there like you treat Laurie ... with some good TLC. You want both of them to be hot and ready when you want them to play, correct?”

“You know it my man!” he replied. “You got to warm them up slowly, and then they’ll both come out singing, groaning and causing a loud ruckus.” I laughed and shook my head at his true comparison of handling a guitar and a young lady.

As I set several guitar picks on the side work table, we heard, “What are you two laughing about?” Cathy chuckled as she ran into the garage in a loose fitting London Knights hockey jersey. She stopped, turned around and pulled the garage door down to prevent any more of the chilly winds from entering our playing space.

“Uh, Paul was just telling me how he had to warm up his bass, just like he has to warm up Laurie, if he wants either of them to groan or make a ruckus,” I replied as she turned and walked back to her Tama Imperialstar drums.

“Dude!” Paul cried out, “too much information. She’s my sister now, remember!” Cathy and I both laughed at Paul’s anguished complaint.

“Relax! Oh, brother of mine,” Cathy said as she sat down behind her set of skins. “I’ve heard that you’re doing a wonderful job of warming Laurie up and making her howl and sing.” She winked at me as she relayed a small piece of girl talk she obviously heard from Paul’s girlfriend of seven months.

“You go stud!” I called out and slapped Paul on the shoulder as he turned a lovely shade of red.

“Now, if he can just make that bass sing and howl like Laurie, we might have something to work with, here,” Cathy zinged her twin brother, which almost had me down on my knees with laughter.

“Cathy, I swear I’ll get you back,” Paul chuckled back to his grinning sister. After we all settled down again, Paul asked me again, “So, what does the guitar god want to start with?”

I shook my head at his comment and looked at Cathy with a semi-blank face and said, “Lady’s choice.”

“Oh, thanks,” she sarcastically replied. “I uh, why don’t we start with the Hotel California tape. I think it’s still in the system from last night.”

“Oh great,” I softly said, “why not kill me now as Hotel California is one of the coolest, but hardest songs to play on the guitar?”

“We don’t have to start with that,” Paul replied. “We can uh, start with, Life in the Fast Lane, if you want. That’s a fun song to play and will give us a decent challenge. I’ll get it cued up here.”

Paul hustled over to their system and inputted the time code for that song. “Oh, do you want to play Joe’s (Walsh) or Don Felder’s part? I’ll need to lower the effect of one of the guitar channels like I’ve done with Randy Meisner’s bass and Don H’s drums, for Cathy.”

“You know I have to be Joe Walsh man, come on now!” I excitedly replied with my choice of guitarists. “Don’t turn it down too much these first couple of times. I’ll need to hear some of it to really get the feel of how the song is played. I’ve never really tried to figure out which sounds are Joe’s, and which are Felder’s.”

“Yeah, that is how we started playing these songs, too,” Paul replied as he tinkered with their sound system. “Damn!” we heard Paul cry out as he backed away from the system. I first thought he hurt himself for a second, but when he turned around to us, he asked, “How are we going to get the vocal parts of the song into the system? Neither Cathy nor I have ever thought about singing, while we practiced, so we don’t have a mic for any vocals.”

“We’ll manage it, for now,” Cathy replied as Paul walked around in front of her drum kit and picked up his bass guitar. “Just sing along with Don Henley, or whoever is singing, Mike, and we’ll get it figured out before too long.”

As Cathy was saying that, I was thinking about a way to make this work and not unexpectedly, my computer materialized in the air in front of me. On the display was a simple question, ‘Do you want to use a wired or wireless microphone system?‘ I smiled and thought, ‘A wireless head-mic and a receiver that works with their system, please.‘

Just as I was finishing up that thought, I heard Cathy call out, “Holy shit! What the hell is that?” as she pointed at the small computer which was hovering in the air in front of me.

“What? ... Oh! Jesus! Mike! What is that thing, and how is it doing that?” Paul initially responded to Cathy’s inquiry, and then added his own cry of disbelief when he saw what captured his sister’s attention.

“Relax, relax, guys,” I said as Paul looked like he might have a second heart attack in two days with my major surprises. Cathy simply had a curious expression on her face after she realized nothing harmful was there with us.

“I guess I should have warned you or told you about this other gift I’ve received from the Energists. This is a super personal computer, which has all types of information stored on it and it also is a message system between the Energists and me. They like using this computer, so they don’t have to ‘physically’ appear with me each time we need to communicate with each other.” I could tell Paul was getting back to normal and Cathy was just plain giddy after hearing my explanation.

I then added for Paul’s benefit, “I’m able to ‘call or think it into existence’ whenever I need some major help with a problem or issue. I can even do it where only I can see it. You were allowed to see it, now, because you already know about the Energists, and most other things about my rebooted life.”

“Damn, Mike, that is so cool,” Cathy said. “First, you were able to enhance yourself and us, and now you have that neat little gizmo, there. What is on the screen?” Cathy leaned as far over her drum kit as possible to see the writing on the display, but obviously couldn’t make it out.

“It is pretty sweet, isn’t it?” I replied. “Uh, the Energists asked me if I wanted a wired or wireless microphone system for singing here in the garage.” Just then a beeping sound chimed and a new message appeared on the screen. I read it out loud for Paul and Cathy, ‘You can keep this wireless system and use it with all your vocals and instruments. There are now wireless micro companies making similar products, which some bands have started to use in 1977.‘

Just then the garage’s chilly, dry air slightly crackled as the Energists’ matter-energy conversion process created an entire wireless sound and receiver system for each of our instruments. Cathy jumped back on her drum throne when she saw five small microphones appear, clipped to her drum kit. A sixth one was down at her bass drum, but she couldn’t see it from her position.

Both Paul and I were somewhat startled when the amp wire to our guitars popped out and a small, portable plug-in unit appeared in their places. I turned and saw a similar plug-in unit appear on our amplifiers. The looks of amazement on both Paul’s and Cathy’s faces were priceless as they saw the sudden materialization of those sound system components.

I wished I had a video recorder of all of our expressions, when we all suddenly felt that tingling sensation around our heads, as we each received a wireless head-mic and monitor unit. I quickly remembered that this was what I asked for in the first place. When I saw Paul’s scared reaction to this ‘creation event,’ I had to act with lightning fast reflexes to keep him from tearing this unfamiliar headgear from around his ears and along his chin. Cathy on the other hand, simply felt the unusual headgear with her right fingertips, and grinned from one of her wired up ear to the other wired.

“Jesus! Mike!” Paul cried out as I pulled his hands from his head. When he saw me wearing a similar head contraption, he relaxed some and said, “What the hell are these things, and why do we have them on?”

I looked over at Cathy to make sure she was okay with her wireless head-mic. Before I could get back to Paul and his questions, Cathy replied, “The energy beings have given us all these wireless microphones, so our voices can match up with our playing ... This is beyond amazing, Mike ... Look! Paul! I’ve got wireless mics for my drums!”

She gently played a short drum burst across all five of her ‘toms’ and added a bass thump or two for good measure. “There are five of them up here and they look like wide sound pickups to capture the cymbals and hi-hats too!” Each of her five brass metals also earned a loving rap or two with her drum sticks.