The “Train Wreck” Reunion
A dramatic play
by
Rollie Tom Anderson
ACT I
The setting is a common, unremarkable hotel lounge. The V-shaped bar is upstage left. The rest of the room is filled with nondescript tables and chairs and there are booths ringing the area in the background. The young, attractive waitress, SHERYL, is center stage. She is pushing three smaller tables and chairs together to make a larger one. The room is empty save for STEVEN, the thirtyish bartender, and TIM MASON, who sits in profile at the outer curve of the bar. Tim is in his late 50s, his hair salt and pepper. He is thin but not skinny and he’s wearing jeans, sandals and a Hawaiian shirt. He nurses a beer while glancing stage left from time to time as well as checking his watch.
He swivels around to look at Sheryl. She has finished her little job and is standing back with hands on hips to survey the result. She looks over at Tim.
Sheryl: Will this do?
Tim: (Nods) That should be fine.
Sheryl: There’s five of you, right?
Tim: At least. Maybe some girlfriends or wives will come along. Or it could be a stag party. You never know with these guys.
Sheryl: Hey, the more the merrier I always say. It’ll be nice to have a table full of folks this early. Are your buddies the type to knock ‘em back hard at four thirty in the afternoon?
Tim: Used to be. I have no idea now days.
Sheryl: I gotcha.
She walks back to the bar. Tim finishes his beer, gets up off his stool and walks downstage. He looks in the direction of the audience with his arms crossed as if staring at a performance stage that isn’t there any more. He grins as if reminiscing about some event in the past.
A man enters the bar stage left. He is JJ SLOANE. He is the same age as Tim but his hair isn’t quite as gray. He is tall, perhaps a few pounds overweight, and he is wearing jeans, Converse Judsons and a plaid shirt. He stops and looks around for a moment, then spots Tim. He quietly walks up behind Tim who is still staring toward the audience.
JJ: You come here often, sailor?
Tim turns to him.
Tim: JJ!
They hug briefly, then step back to look at each other.
JJ: Good Lord, you sure got old in a hurry!
Tim: Hell, I might be old but I thought you were already dead!
JJ: Just a nasty rumor. Don’t believe everything you read in the obituaries. Man, it’s good to see you.
Tim: Same here.
JJ takes a quick look around the room.
JJ: Anyone else here yet?
Tim: No. Just me and you waiting on the rest of them.
JJ: Just like it always was.
Tim: Of course!
JJ looks toward the audience and points.
JJ: Isn’t that where the stage used to be?
Tim turns and looks.
Tim: Yeah. I was just remembering that myself. I can still see it in my head.
They point as they talk.
JJ: It had a big red velvet curtain, right?
Tim: Yeah, it did. Real heavy and thick. It came down from the top in a semi-circle around the front of the stage. Very regal-looking. (Chuckles) Remember that night when it started coming up as we began our set and then stopped right at our ankles when the electric motor burned out?
JJ: Yep. I remember Randall got down on the floor and waved out to the crowd.
Tim: The club manager came running up as fast as his little legs would go because the audience was laughing. He had to pull it the rest of the way up by hand.
JJ: (Shakes his head slowly) I hated that stupid curtain. Made it feel like a sleazy Vegas lounge in here. But the owner thought it was classy for some reason.
Tim: Let’s see. (Points stage left) My organ and piano were on that side.
JJ: And I stood right next to you.
Tim: (Snaps his fingers) Hey, isn’t this the club where you…
JJ: (Looks down at his feet) Ripped my pants. Yes, this is the place.
Tim: Oh, my God. (chuckles) It was something to see.
JJ: That’s a night I’ll never forget. All I did was bend over to grab my guitar pick up off the floor and my pants ripped right up the back seam.
Tim: But no one knew it.
JJ: Least of all, me. So then I turn and jump up on the drum riser and start shaking my skinny tush for those chicks sitting at the front table to admire.
Tim: About that time I look up and all I see is your pale, funky ass shining in the lights. I think I went into shock.
JJ: I thought I felt a draft!
Tim: (Laughs) But you just kept on grooving to the music like nothing was wrong at all.
JJ: I was really caught up in the rock and roll moment, you might say.
Tim: And then Randall finishes singing and turns around. I’ll swear, his face is about a foot from your butt crack! (Laughs) Oh, shit. I’ll never forget the stunned look on his face. (Laughs) He stopped playing and just froze on the spot. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
JJ: In the meantime I’m still clueless. Finally Chip notices, comes running over and slaps me hard right on the ass cheeks. That’s when I knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong because that slap was skin on skin. I think my heart stopped.
Tim: (Laughs) We had to stop right in the middle of the song because we were all laughing so hard we couldn’t play. Or stand up, for that matter!
JJ: That’s one night when I was thankful for that curtain. It couldn’t come down fast enough. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Before or since. Jeez, Louise.
They share a laugh.
Tim: (Puts his hand on JJ’s shoulder) Makes for one hell of a story, though.
JJ: Glad you like it.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Man, those were some crazy days and nights we had in here together. (Gestures) Look at this room now. Just a place to get drunk in. No character. No atmosphere. No mystery. Just a bar like any other.
JJ: (Looks around) Not even a dance floor. What’s the point?
JJ looks over at the bar, then back at Tim.
JJ: What’s a guy gotta do to get a beer around here?
Tim: (Gestures toward the table) Come on. Let’s have a seat and the lovely Sheryl will take care of us.
They go to the table and sit down. Tim faces the audience and JJ sits on the stage left end. He pulls his chair out a little to where he’s more visible to the audience. Sheryl comes over and looks at JJ.
Tim: Sheryl. Meet JJ Sloane.
Sheryl: Hello, JJ. Tim, are all your pals going to be this good looking?
JJ: (Feigns embarrassment) Aww, shucks, ma’am. You’re too kind. But very observant!
Sheryl: What can I get you?
JJ: Just a light beer will do me fine.
Tim: Make that two.
Sheryl: Sure thing. I’ll be right back.
JJ turns and watches her walk away, then back to Tim.
JJ: Good Lord, I have neckties older than her. (He shoots her another glance) She’s hot, though.
Tim: Any woman under 50 is young and hot to me.
JJ: Speak for yourself. I was always a lot more picky than you were. They have to be under 45 for me to get interested. I do have my standards.
Tim: (Nods) I see.
JJ: You’re still married, right?
Tim: Twenty freakin’ years next month.
JJ: Wow. Congratulations. You’re a stronger, better man than I.
Tim: Strong? I don’t think so. Too weak to fight’s more like it.
JJ: You’re smart, then. I always think I can win an argument with a woman for some reason.
Tim: It’s never worth the effort. The secret is to keep your mouth shut and your head down.
JJ: (Smiles) I’ll try to remember that if there’s a next time in my future.
Sheryl delivers the two beers and sets them down in front of them.
Sheryl: Can I get y’all anything else?
Tim: No thanks. We’re good.
She leaves and JJ watches her walk away again. He turns back to Tim and whistles quietly. They both nod and take a swig of their beers.
JJ: At least you get laid on a regular basis. The single life of an old, divorced fart is a lonely and very pitiful one these days, my friend.
Tim: Oh? So you think I’m getting sex? Didn’t I tell you I was married?
JJ: (Winces) Oh, that’s right. Pardon me. (Taps his forehead) What was I thinking?
Tim: Really, JJ. Sarah’s a menopause poster girl. Been that way for years now.
JJ: I hear you, man. The wife’s Lake Desire has dried up, huh?
Tim: No kidding. I call her Sarah Sahara. Not to her face, of course. It’s bad, man. I have to beg and bargain for it like I was back in high school. And then it’s all over in five minutes.
JJ: That’s bad. My most recent wife turned into an untouchable like that but she didn’t have menopause for an excuse. She just hated sex altogether. And me, for that matter.
Tim: That’s the way my first wife was. Do you remember Rita? When we were engaged we fucked like ferrets! She dressed up really sexy all the time and even bought sex toys! Then as soon as the honeymoon was over she put a deadbolt on the pussy and hid the key. I never figured that out about women. (Shakes his head and takes a gulp of beer) I mean, what’s the deal? The good Lord gave us this fantastic gift of sex that a husband and wife can indulge in to their heart’s content without anyone thinking less of them for it. Plus, no venereal diseases to worry about! You’d think women would love it. But no. Aww, hell no! All of a sudden the wife sticks it in the same category as scrubbing off the scum in the shower! They turn it into a fucking chore! Literally. Why would they want to do that? I don’t see the point at all. Sex should be something a couple gets to look forward to. I mean, it’s not like I’m some kind of sado-masochist who wants to tie her up in leather and beat her with a rubber hose! I just want to fuck my wife. Is that too much to ask? How can Sarah stop wanting something that is obviously healthy for our relationship? And free? And fun?
JJ: (Shrugs) Because it ain’t fun for them anymore, I guess. Shit. Don’t ask me, man. I tried everything I could. Every time.
Tim: How long have you been divorced?
JJ: Two years now. And Sharla was my third wife! (Shakes his head in resignation) I’m permanently retired from marriage. My third time was definitely not the charm! I’m the proverbial three-time loser.
Tim: Sorry it didn’t work out.
JJ: (Takes a gulp of beer) Sorry? Don’t be. I am once again master of my own remote control. I can watch any kind of sports program or action movie I so desire without being nagged to death about it. These days sex takes a back seat to ESPN.
Tim: (Nods) Ain’t that the truth. (Sighs) Maybe we just used up our entire sex quota in our youth. Back in the day we used to score more than Tony Dorsett.
JJ: Got more ass than a toilet seat at a Mary Kay convention, did we not?
Tim: (Shakes his head and chuckles) Those days are over, my friend. Now I’m lucky to get a Goddamn peck on the cheek. And that’s after taking her out to a lobster dinner!
JJ: Been there, buddy.
There is a pause in the conversation. JJ turns and looks toward the door behind him, then back to Tim.
JJ: Where is everybody already?
Tim: Well, Chip’s primping in his hotel room upstairs and Milton and Randall… Well, they should be here by now.
JJ: Right. (Shrugs) Whatever. So, where are you working these days?
Tim: I’m office manager for the Travis Company. We make aluminum siding and roof gutters. Real exciting work. You?
JJ: Still with the phone company. Getting close to thirty friggin’ years now. I’ll probably die in my bucket truck.
Tim: You started there after the band broke up, right?
JJ: (Nods) Yep. Had to do something. My rock and roll glory days were over after Train Wreck jumped the tracks.
Tim: That’s when they ended for me, too. Had to get a real job like the rest of the world. But, boy, we had us some great times while it lasted.
JJ: Damn right, we did.
JJ holds his beer up and Tim clinks his against it. MILTON PAPPAS enters the bar stage left. He is much heavier set than the other two and almost bald. He wears jeans, cowboy boots and a rock and roll Tee shirt. He spots them and calls out.
Milton: Damn! They’ll let anyone in here!
Tim and JJ turn and rise when they see him coming towards them. They both hug Milton, then stand back and look each other over.
Tim: Milton. Great to see you, man.
Milton: You, too.
JJ: Good Lord, you’re fat!
Milton: (Lightly punches JJ on the upper arm) Gee, thanks. Up yours, JJ. You’ve got a Cadillac spare tire yourself, I see. You got no room to talk, Tubby.
JJ: I’m just yanking your chain, man. You look good.
Tim: Come on. Sit down and get a drink.
They go back to the table. Milton sits next to Tim, facing the audience. Milton looks around the room.
Milton: Where’s the freakin’ party? I thought I’d be the last one here. Traffic’s a bitch out there. And it’s Saturday! Anyway, how you guys doing these days?
Tim: Can’t complain. I got a wife, a teenager and a steady paycheck. That’s enough for me, I guess.
JJ: No wife. No kids. Same old job.
Milton: You’re with the telephone company? Still?
JJ: (Nods) Yep. I’d planned on being independently wealthy by now but I’m starting to think the lottery’s rigged. Have you noticed that they pick different numbers every time? What about you?
Milton shakes his head wearily.
Milton: Running Dad’s old business.
Tim: Laundromats?
Milton: Yeah. What can I say? People still gotta wash their clothes somewhere. I hate it but it puts food on the table and a roof over my family’s head. Not much more than that, though.
JJ: How’s Cathy?
Milton: Big as I am but meaner. Somehow we’ve lasted, though. No one else would put up with my sorry ass. I’m pretty sure of that.
Milton looks up toward the audience and scans the imaginary stage area.
Milton: This room sure has changed. (He points) The stage used to be over there, right?
Tim: Yeah. JJ and I were just…
Milton: (Smiling broadly) Aww, hell. (Snorts) Ain’t this the place where JJ…
JJ: …Ripped my pants.
Milton starts to laugh loudly and continues to laugh as he speaks.
Milton: Oh, God! Do I ever remember that night. I’m sitting in the back, just playing my drums and you jump up on the riser during the guitar lead like always. I’m just coastin’, checking out the cute babes sitting at the first table and then I realize they’re gawking like they’re in a state of shock! I’m thinking like, “What the fuck?” I mean, their mouths are hanging down to the floor and they’re all bug-eyed. I’m wondering what the hell is wrong and then I see Randall pull back away from his mike and turn around…
Tim: And he’s staring right at JJ’s asshole!
JJ: That’s a lovely mental picture.
Milton: (Excitedly) That’s right! But I still don’t know any of that yet. I can’t see anything’s wrong because JJ’s facing me and he’s just boogying on down. The next thing I know Chip races over and smacks JJ right on the butt. Sounded like a snare! I even heard it over my drums! You should have seen the look in your eyes, man! You looked like you’d been shot!
JJ: Damn right. It hurt like hell!
Milton: (Has to catch his breath from laughing before continuing) Oh, Jeez, that was funny. Then you jump down off the drum riser and turn towards the audience and that’s when I finally see your raggedy ass hanging out of your britches like a flashing neon sign. I mean, those pants of yours ripped from your waist to your crotch!
Tim: And our pants were so tight back then none of us wore underwear. There was nothing left to the imagination. Nothing at all. Pretty gross.
JJ: One of my better moments I’ll cherish forever.
Milton: I never laughed so hard in my life.
Milton slaps Tim on the back as they laugh together. JJ just shakes his head in embarrassment. Sheryl approaches the table and smiles.
Sheryl: Sounds like you guys are having a fine time over here. (She looks at Milton) And who is this handsome fella?
Tim: Sheryl, meet Milton Pappas.
She nods to him. Milton looks her up and down.
Milton: Hello, Sheryl. And just let me say that flattery will get you a generous tip and almost anything else you want. Would you be so kind to bring me a vodka martini, please? Heavy on the vodka.
Sheryl: Right away. (She glances at Tim and JJ) You two okay?
Tim and JJ nod. She leaves and all three watch her walk back to the bar.
Milton: Man, I need to get laid.
Tim: It’s a big boat. Jump right in with me and JJ.
Milton: What? You’re still married, aren’t you, Tim?
Tim: And your point is?
Milton: (Nods in recognition) Oh, never mind. Say no more. I understand. Completely.
JJ: We were just talking about that.
Milton: About how sex and marriage don’t mix? Don’t get me started. You guys are preaching to the choir. Man, how I miss good old-fashioned, sloppy and sinful fornication. In my prime I had a hot new squeeze every month. When we played in clubs like this one finding horny babes was like picking peaches off a tree. Do you guys ever think about those days? Boy, I think about ‘em all the time. We should have been rock stars. What in the hell happened to us?
Tim: Well, Randall left the band in ’78, we couldn’t replace him and we broke up. That’s what happened.
JJ: We lasted six years, man. That’s longer than most. We had a damned good run.
Milton: (Nods slightly) I guess you’re right but, like I said, I’ve been thinking about it and I want to run an idea by you two before Randall and Chip get here. What if we put the band back together?
Tim and JJ grimace and shift in their seats.
Milton: Now, wait. Hear me out before you decide anything. I’ve still got my old tubs stored out in the garage and there’s this bar near where I live that would hire us on the spot. Hell, they have old farts our age playing there all the time and they aren’t anywhere as good as we were. We’d blow ‘em off the stage. Come on, guys. We could do it easy and it’d be fun again.
Tim and JJ squirm in their seats again and roll their eyes at each other.
Tim: (Sighs) Uh, I don’t know, Milton. It’d be weird.
JJ: More than weird. I think you’re out of your Goddamn mind! This ain’t “The Blues Brothers” movie, Milton. I’m way too old for that combo stuff.
Milton: (In disbelief) Too old? Who says so? That’s just being negative and defeatist-minded. You’re only as old as you tell yourself you are, my friends. Anything’s possible if you want it bad enough. Music is a gift, man. You can’t turn your back on your God-given talent.
Tim: Milton, get real. Chip lives two thousand miles from here and Randall still performs with his own band all over the country. What about them?
Milton: (Shrugs) Okay, so maybe I’m not really talking about them being involved. I’m talking about us three. My son is twenty-five, plays guitar and sings. He’s damn good, too. We could back him up. I’ve got it all figured out. We’d be a smash.
Sheryl arrives with the martini and sets it in front of Milton. He looks up at her.
Milton: Ain’t that right, darlin’?
Sheryl: What’s that?
Milton: We’re not too old to rock and roll, are we?
Sheryl: Who? You three? Not at all.
Milton: (Gesturing toward Sheryl to Tim and JJ) See? She agrees with me. And who’s going to argue with a sweet young thing like sexy Sheryl here?
Sheryl: Did you guys used to be in a band or something?
Tim: (Turns and looks at Sheryl) Yeah, we were rocking and rolling full time back in the seventies.
JJ: We used to play right here in this room, in fact.
Sheryl: Really? Right here at the Sheraton? What was the name of your group?
Milton: Train Wreck.
Sheryl: (Nods and smiles) All right. Cool name. I bet you guys were good, too.
Milton: Good? Baby, we were great!
Tim: We’re having our first official reunion here today. It’s been almost forty years since we broke up.
Sheryl: You should have brought your instruments with y’all and played some songs for me. I grew up listening to classic rock.
Milton: Funny you should say that. Performing again is what I’m trying to get them to do but they say they’re too old.
Sheryl: (Frowns) No way. You don’t act like old guys. I’m going to call my Dad and see if he remembers your band. He was around back then and I think he might have hung out here.
Milton: We were the best group in town, honey. Unforgettable.
Sheryl: I bet you were.
She leaves and they once again watch her walk away.
JJ: (To Milton) That’s not entirely true, you know.
Milton: What?
JJ: About us being the best. Are you forgetting Love Field?
Milton: Who? Them? (Waves him off) Forget about it. We were better than those bums. By a mile. They were hacks.
Tim: Hacks with a record deal, though.
Milton waves Tim off and sneers.
Milton: They just got lucky, that’s all. And anyway, where are they now? But don’t try to change the subject. Let’s get back to what I was talking about. I’m serious. We should be playing music together. (Looks at JJ) You complained about not getting laid. We’d have chicks hanging all over us again.
JJ: (Chuckles) Hanging all over their walkers is more like it.
Tim: Look, Milton, for starters, I don’t even have a portable keyboard any more. Just the old upright piano in the den and it ain’t going anywhere.
Milton: So? You can buy one. I can help you out in that department, too. I know a guy who’ll sell one to you for cheap. Not having equipment’s not a legitimate excuse. The truth is you’re just being a chicken shit.
Tim shrugs this off.
JJ: Okay, how about this. I haven’t even picked up my bass in ten or fifteen years. I couldn’t play “Louie, Louie” if my life depended on it. You gonna teach me how to play again?
Milton: (Rolls his eyes in frustration) Jeez. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how to play. You know better than that. Anyway, I’m the one who would have to be physically working his butt off back there on the skins. All you two have to do is stand there and look pretty. Don’t be such negative thinkers. Shit, you both look like you could use some happiness in your lives.
Milton takes a sip of his martini and makes a face.
Milton: Crap! This isn’t a real martini. I’ll be right back. I gotta go get my money’s worth. In the meantime, please think seriously about what I’m saying. You’d both end up thanking me.
He gets up and goes over to the bar. Tim and JJ turn to each other and shake their heads.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Same old “never say die” Milton. Thinks he can badger anybody into anything.
JJ: Yeah. And he used to succeed, too. I did a lot of crazy things I shouldn’t have because of him. A lot of crazy things.
Tim: Well, he’s not going to talk me into this crazy scheme no matter how long he goes on about it. I think the boy’s been living in his own little “dreams still come true” world for way too long. That ship sailed a long time ago.
JJ: Sailed? I scuttled it and blocked the harbor with it. But I guess some guys just can’t let go of their glory days.
Tim: I personally find it really sad to go in a bar or a restaurant and see guys our age in a band, posturing and acting like they’re 21 again. It’s embarrassing because they don’t realize how ridiculous they look.
JJ: Yeah, but the fact is there are singers like our own Randall Wilkes out there who still think they can make it big in the music business.
Tim gives him a disbelieving look and JJ nods emphatically.
JJ: For real. He still thinks he’s going to be a star someday. I went to see Randall last year at “Pecan Fest” and we got to talk for a while. Any attempt to bring reality into the conversation was shot down by his insistence that anything is possible if you believe in yourself and if you never give up on your dreams. Kinda like Milton saying we’re just being negative if we don’t buy into their fantasy.
Tim: You mean, at his age, Randall still thinks he’ll be a rock and roll star? Really?
JJ: Yes. He really does. With him there’s always some new inside angle or important contact that he’s networking with to get a record deal. That big break he’s chasing is always just around the corner. He’ll probably still be playing in honkytonks when he’s 90 years old. And still waiting for his big break.
Tim: Probably. (Takes a gulp of beer) Think about it, though. What else could he possibly be qualified to do after this long? He’s been singin’ and strummin’ since he was thirteen. The real world would chew him up and spit him out, God bless him. He is what he is.
JJ: Well, not that I think my job is nirvana but I, for one, am glad to have an IRA and decent health insurance. With dental.
Tim: (Nods) Me, too. I guess we’ve completely sold out to the establishment. And all for a prescription drug discount at Walgreens.
JJ: Ya think? But seriously folks, back to what Milton was suggesting. Can you see yourself loading up your car with musical equipment, hauling it all into some dirty biker bar in the suburbs and setting it up, playing four sets of songs you’ve heard for fifty years, then tearing it all down when it’s over and driving home drunk at three in the morning with ten bucks in your pocket after you paid your tab? Does that sound like fun to you?
Tim: (Shakes his head) I guess it does to Milton.
JJ: And drummers always have more crap to screw with than anybody else! He must have some real issues with aging gracefully.
Tim: I think it comes down to the reasons why we did it in the first place. I think you and I did it for the creative outlet music gave us and the chance to be a part of something we could be proud of. We just wanted to exploit what little talent we had to its fullest. We also realized that we only had a small window of opportunity to get it done in. We knew we weren’t virtuosos but that didn’t matter. Something told us it wasn’t necessarily the most talented that got their faces on album covers, it was the fortunate few who found themselves in the right place at the right time. And that only happened to a tiny fraction of one percent of the musicians in the world. I think we just wanted a shot at it.
JJ: (Nods in agreement) I think guys like Milton were doing it for the carefree lifestyle it provided more than anything else. They could legitimately earn a living while carousing and carrying on in an endless party of excess. Being in a rock and roll band made it okay to do that, for some reason. Name one other job that allows you to drink while you work. Milton doesn’t remember the hard times because as long as the sex, drugs and rock and roll were happening he was being a success. He was the envy of every Joe Shmoe in the room. He had a wild, glamorous youth and now that he’s grown older he looks back and sees it as the most desirable and rewarding experience he ever had. And he’ll do anything to get it back. Even if it means dragging you and me out of retirement.
Tim: When you put it that way who could blame him?
JJ: I guess you’re right. As for me, I honestly don’t crave the spotlight any more. At all. And I certainly don’t feel like I have to justify my sentiments to Milton.
Tim: Me, neither. I got all of that out of my system a long time ago. I played piano with the Jones Brothers on and off for a year after we broke up but it never gave me the same thrill as Train Wreck did. To them I was just a hired hand. The bottom line was that I really got tired of playing with and for a bunch of drunks. And that’s what those guys were. Playing a gig was just an excuse for them to get shit faced. (Shrugs) Hey, to each his own. But I don’t want to get caught up in all of that tonight. We’re here for a reunion and it should be a fun thing.
JJ: (Takes another gulp of beer) I’m having fun just sittin’ here with you, man. And I could use another beer.
Tim: Me, too. (He drains his bottle)
Milton, who has been dallying at the bar talking with Steven and Sheryl, comes back to the table. Sheryl follows him over. Tim and JJ look up as they approach. Milton sits back down next to Tim.
Sheryl: You two ready for another round?
Tim: Please.
Sheryl grabs the empties and returns to the bar. They all watch her walk away.
Milton: That Sheryl’s a wild child. Let me tell you. Kinda reminds me of Dixie.
JJ: Dixie? You mean that blonde barfly that used to show up in every club we played? No way. She was a total slut. Sheryl’s a lot classier than Dixie ever was.
Tim: God, I haven’t thought about her in ages.
Milton: She was one of those women who always made herself available. I think she did everybody in the band at one time or another.
JJ: She gave me the crabs.
Tim: You’re lucky, then. She gave me the clap.
Milton: Oh, listen to you two. Crabs? Clap? Those were nothing. At least they were easy to deal with. They have STD’s out there now that make our little infections seem like mosquito bites. We lived in the golden age of free love, my friends.
JJ: (Nods) You’re right about that. If they’d had AIDS back in the seventies I dare say that none of us would be alive today. We thought condoms were just funny looking balloons.
Milton: I wonder where Dixie is these days?
Tim: Probably working some respectable, high-paying job where no one would ever suspect that she has a sordid past with Train Wreck.
Milton: And every other band that came through town.
JJ: Or she could be living in a van down by a river!
Tim: (Laughs and glances upward) Rest in peace, Chris Farley!
Milton: (Shakes his head wistfully) Say what you want about little Dixie but I’d go another round with her in a heartbeat. That lady loved to ball.
Tim and JJ start to laugh but realize that he’s being serious. They glance at each other, shrug and look away towards the bar. Sheryl brings them their beers and sets them down in front of them on the table.
Sheryl: Some guy named Chip just called the bar and said he’s on his way down from his room.
Tim: Thanks.
JJ: …For the warning.
She returns to the bar.
JJ: Ooo. Chip has decided to make time for us. I feel so privileged.
Tim: Don’t start, JJ.
JJ: What?
Tim: You know.
Milton: What? You and Chip still mad at each other?
JJ: Oh, please. I was just being sarcastic. You know I always gave him a hard time.
Milton: Well, before he or Randall gets here, did you guys give any more thought to what I was talking about? I’m serious as a heat stroke about putting a band together with you two. Let’s do it.
Tim: Milton, just let us think about it for a few weeks, okay? I really don’t think it’d be as enjoyable as you’ve imagined it would be.
JJ: We’re not young studs any more.
Milton: Neither are the Rolling Stones and they make millions every show.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Yeah, well, the Rolling Stones didn’t first make it big when they were 67 years old, either. You surely aren’t trying to compare us with Mick, Keith and Charlie, are you?
Milton: (Gestures with his hands in exasperation) There you go again with that stinkin’ thinkin’. You know exactly what I mean. I refuse to act my age. That’s when you start to die, boys. And I’m still a good drummer. Hell, I’m a great drummer. I hear what’s on my son’s Ipod and I can play rings around the youngsters out there today. Half the time they aren’t even real drums at all!
JJ: You’re probably right. And backing your son up in a band would be a wonderful experience for both of you. You should go for it. But find some guys his age to play with. You don’t need us.
Milton: But that’s just it. The musicians his age don’t want an old guy like me playing in my son’s group. They’ve already told him so. That’s why I need you two to do it with me. Good grief! You’re not seeing the big picture here, my brothers. What’s wrong with playing music, having a party and flirting with young babes?
Tim: I think my wife might have some problems with that scenario.
JJ: And these days I prefer quiet evenings with a good book and my dog to smoky saloons and aging bar floozies. I have to be honest with you. What you just described as fun sounds like a living hell to me.
Milton: (Shakes his head) You guys are ridiculously hopeless. You’ve done lost your souls. You’ve given up on your dreams and now you’re just waiting to die a slow death. I’m offering you a chance to get out of your pathetic ruts and live a little and you want to think about it? (Scoffs loudly) Well, I’m not going to join your pity party today. I’m going to have fun with my old pals starting right now.
Milton finishes his drink, leans back in his chair, turns and shouts to Steven behind the bar.
Milton: Steven! Another martini, my man. And make it exactly like I showed you!
Steven nods back. Milton turns back to Tim and JJ.
Milton: These kids today. Can’t even make a decent drink, for Pete’s sake.
Milton looks stage left and squints.
Milton: I’ll be damned. Look what the cat drug in!
Tim and JJ turn and look. CHIP BARONEY enters stage left and walks straight to the table. He is completely bald and wearing glasses but dressed a little nicer than the others in a Polo shirt and slacks. He is average height and weight. He smiles at them broadly.
Chip: Hey, guys!
All three rise from the table and Tim and Milton hug Chip. JJ only shakes his hand. Chip stands back and looks them over.
Chip: How come you three got old and wrinkled and I didn’t?
Tim: Obviously you need stronger glasses.
Milton: Yeah, and at least we still have some hair left!
Chip: Ouch! Let’s not go there, okay? Man, I haven’t seen any of you in so damn long.
Tim: Not since you moved out to the great Northwest.
Chip: I guess you’re right, Tim. That was when… 1982? Good Lord. Can it really be that long ago?
Milton: Doesn’t seem like it.
JJ: Not at all.
There is a pregnant pause for a moment where no one says anything.
Tim: (Gestures) Well, here’s our table. Let’s sit.
They all take their seats at the table. Chip sits next to Milton, facing the audience. Sheryl delivers Milton’s martini, then approaches Chip.
Tim: Sheryl, that’s Chip.
Sheryl: Hello, Chip. Can I get you something?
Chip: Yes. I’ll have a scotch on the rocks with a water back.
Sheryl: Right away.
Sheryl walks away and Milton nudges Chip.
Milton: Her name’s Sheryl. Hot stuff, huh?
Chip: (He glances at Sheryl) Very nice. But she’s still a baby, Milton. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Milton: Never.
Chip looks down the table.
Chip: So how is everybody?
The other three nod and shrug. Chip looks toward the imaginary stage into the audience.
Chip: What happened to the stage? (Points) Didn’t it used to be right over there? And isn’t this the place where JJ…
Milton, Tim & JJ: (in unison) …ripped his pants.
JJ nods his head in embarrassment.
Chip: (His eyes light up and he laughs) That’s right. It was here. What was the name of this club back then? The Jolly Roger or something?
Tim: The Jolly Fox.
Chip: Right! I used to stand on the end right over there. (Points stage right) I remember that night like it was yesterday. It’s burned into my brain forever. I looked over and saw JJ up on the drum riser and then I notice his bare butt shining in the lights. I’m freaking out. I think everyone in the room knew it before we did. So instantly I realize that he’s not aware of the situation at all and it was too loud to shout at him and get his attention. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s bopping to the music as hard as he can go. The only thing I knew to do was to jump over and slap him on the ass! The terrified look he gave me was priceless.
Chip, Milton and Tim laugh. JJ just nods.
JJ: I’ll never live it down, evidently.
Milton: Not as long as any of us are alive.
JJ: (Clears his throat loudly) So, Chip, what have you been up to the last couple of decades?
Chip: Oh, Lord. Where do I begin?
Tim: How about 1982 when you moved away?
Chip: Let’s see. I had gone back to school and finished my business degree and was working downtown for Prudential when I got the offer in Seattle.
Sheryl returns with Chip’s drinks and sets them in front of him. She looks down the table.
Sheryl: Everybody doing okay?
They nod to her and she returns to the bar. They all watch her walk away.
Chip: Anyway, I moved up there and I slowly but surely climbed the old corporate ladder at Pacific Life. I started dating Elizabeth around that time and then married her in ‘85. Had two daughters a year apart and both are already well out of college. Did pretty well for myself, I reckon. I travel a lot in my job but for some reason this is the first time I’ve come through here in a long, long time. Mom and Dad don’t live here anymore so I don’t even visit. When I found out I was coming down here for a convention I found Tim on the Internet and here we are. It’s kinda strange being back. The old hometown doesn’t look the same to me. But it’s great to see you guys.
Milton: You ever play your guitar anymore?
Chip: (Shakes his head) No. I don’t even own one. Don’t have the time for it.
Tim: Man, that’s a cryin’ shame. You were amazing.
Chip: (Waves him off) Oh, please. That was in another lifetime.
Milton: But we sure had a lot of fun, didn’t we?
Chip: That we did. Wasted a lot of time, too.
JJ: Oh? Really? How do you figure?
Tim: (Warily) JJ…
JJ: No, I want to hear all about how Chip wasted his time with us.
Chip takes a drink, then looks at the rest of them with slight exasperation.
Chip: Oh, come on. Don’t take offense. You know what I mean. It’s no secret that if we’d been more professional and focused we could have taken Train Wreck to the top. Instead, we frittered away any opportunities that came our way by constantly acting like a bunch of fraternity brothers on an endless spring break. I’m just saying that when you look back on those six years we spent together you have to come to the conclusion that we pissed away our time. And those were our prime years. We’ll never get those years back.
Milton: That may be, but that’s true for just about everyone no matter what they did when they were in their twenties. I didn’t piss away my time. I had an absolute ball.
Chip: Right. I’m surprised you remember any of it.
Milton: I remember more than you think.
Chip: (Shrugs) Look, let’s change the subject.
JJ: Let’s not. I’m intrigued. I want to hear more about how I pissed away my time.
Chip takes another sip of his drink, then nods.
Chip: Okay, JJ. Why not? I’ve actually given it quite a bit of thought over the years. When I look back on it all it seems to me that I could’ve spent my time more productively if I’d stayed in college and started my corporate career a decade earlier. It’s impossible to catch up to the people who got a ten-year head start on me. I guess I’m really just talking about myself here, but I was hanging on to my childish visions of being a rock star and I wanted to fly in the face of my Dad’s advice. He begged me to stay in school but I didn’t listen. I thought if we treated Train Wreck like a real business venture and stayed on course we could make it. We had the talent, the looks, the energy. Everything. But I could never get any of you to focus on the important stuff. I’d get one of you in line and then somebody else would go and get loony on me. It was like trying to corral a bunch of wild horses.
JJ: (Nodding) Hmm… So let me get this straight. If we’d just listened to you we would have gone big time. Guaranteed.
Chip: Well, look what happened to us by not listening to me.
Tim: What would you have had us do differently?
Chip: Everything. I mean, where do I start? We would have dressed better, practiced more and not allowed drinking or drugs into the mix. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was as indulgent as the rest of you when it came to pot and booze and I’m not proud of it.
JJ: (Sarcastically) Oh, I am.
Chip: That figures. And we would have focused on sticking with the proven songwriting formulas that created hit singles. We wouldn’t have spent so much time with Randall’s experimental music and Tim’s space rock and JJ’s jazz-fusion ideas. Nobody wanted to hear that weird crap. On the other hand, the songs I wrote sounded exactly like the records that were being played on the radio. They were trendy. It’s like any viable business, you have to give the people what they want in order to be successful. But we didn’t do that. Instead, we wasted our time. And that’s the bottom line.
Milton: (Shakes his head in disgust) Chip, you are still so full of shit. I thought the point back then was to have a good time.
Chip: Evidently.
Tim: Man, this takes me back. We must have had this argument a million times.
JJ: I’m still fascinated, Chip. So… You actually think you were smarter than the rest of us?
Chip: Hold on. I didn’t say that. (He looks at Tim and Milton) Anyone hear me say that? What I’m trying to tell you is that I had a plan that would have worked and you guys didn’t.
Tim: But one of the big reasons the record companies kept turning us down was because they said we sounded too much like groups that were already on the charts. One label even said they didn’t need another Three Dog Night because they already had one. Doesn’t that shoot down your “proven formula” and “follow the herd” theory right there?
Chip: (Takes a quick sip of his scotch) Not at all. The record companies were just trying to let us down easy. It was just a stock reason they gave for not signing a band. The problem was that we had no marketable identity. They’d come hear us at a showcase and they’d hear three or four completely different kinds of music from us. If we’d concentrated our energies on my radio-friendly commercial songs we would have gotten a deal.
JJ: And we would have been just another one-shot wonder, nothing more. I happen to think that if we would’ve emphasized what made us unique we would have set ourselves apart from the pack and really stood out. And the only way to accomplish that would have been to follow our creative muse wherever she would’ve led us. It’s only the bands that blazed their own trail that lasted, not the ones who were copycats.
Chip: (Shakes his head) You really believe that, huh? Well, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree. But the harsh truth is that we failed. And that’s the legacy of Train Wreck.
Milton: (Makes a face) Jesus! What a fucking downer you are, Chip. A failure? I don’t feel that way at all. Never have. As far as I’m concerned, the best years of my life were spent playing in a band with all of you guys. I’ll never have closer friends as long as I live. And that’s not failure in my eyes. Far from it.
Tim: I don’t see how you can say we were a total bust, Chip. That’s pretty fucking harsh, man. Do you consider a small business a failure because they don’t grow into a huge corporation? Most groups back then were lucky if they stayed together for two years. We lasted for six. Name one band from around here that became stars.
Chip: Love Field.
Tim: Yeah? So what? Are they still stars? They cut three albums and had a couple of songs barely make it into the bottom of the charts and we all thought they hung the moon around here but, in the end, what exactly did they accomplish? Half of them ended up in rehab, one of them committed suicide and the other one plays in a band with Randall. It’s a real stretch to consider them a success.
Chip: I don’t know, Tim. At least they have something to show for it. You can still buy their CDs on Amazon.
JJ: (With sarcasm) Wow, man. What a brilliant legacy. They probably even have their own website! (Shakes his head) I remember running into Wayne, the lead singer, right after their third LP came out and he looked like a cadaver. He told me he once thought that if you could just somehow land a record deal it would all be a joy ride up Easy Street but he told me reality was anything but that. He said the nitty gritty was that they had spent 48 weeks the previous year riding from town to town in a filthy tour bus, eating shitty food and going days on end without a shower. Wayne hated everything about it. He said that when they signed their recording contract they unknowingly gave away their souls. He told me to be careful what I wished for.
Chip: (Gestures in agreement) Which leads me right back to my point. In fact, I’ll admit I was wrong to say that we should have followed my plan for making it to the big time. You’re right, JJ. We would have ended up just like Love Field. The truth is that we wasted a lot of time striving for something that was just a pipe dream. An unrealistic fantasy. And I bought into the illusion the same as you guys did. Now, in retrospect, we should never have treated it as anything other than a hobby and gotten on with our lives in the real world after we got out of High School. We’d all be better off today.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Sorry, but I don’t buy it. The upside certainly outweighs the downside for me. When I hear about what happened to Love Field it makes me think that maybe we got the better end of the stick. We were free to do as we pleased. We weren’t anybody’s slaves. We played music that we loved for a living. We got to open for major acts in concert. We got to write our own songs and record them in excellent studios. We got to travel all over the countryside on our own terms. We met more beautiful women in one month than most men will meet in a lifetime. I wouldn’t trade those days for anything and I certainly don’t consider them a waste of my time. That’s bullshit.
JJ: I’ll drink to that.
They all take a drink. Chip shrugs and shakes his head in resignation.
Chip: The more things change the more they stay the same. By the way, where’s our sex God?
Tim: Randall is being Randall. Fashionably late as usual.
Milton and Chip glance stage left.
Milton: Speak of the devil.
Chip: Hide your wallets.
RANDALL WILKES enters stage left. He appears younger and more handsome than the others. His hair is darker and longer and he exudes a certain confidence in his body language. He is dressed totally in black and has a diamond stud in his right earlobe. He spots the others and quickly strides over to the table with open arms.
Randall: Hey, hey, hey! The gang’s all here.
The others start to get up to greet him but Randall motions for them to stay seated.
Randall: No, no. Stay seated, fellas. Don’t get up for me.
They remain in their seats. Randall walks around the table and greets each one of them in turn, shaking their hand and patting them on the back. He starts with JJ.
Randall: John Johnny! You’re looking good, dude!
JJ: Whatever. Glad they let you out of jail for the weekend.
Randall turns to Tim.
Randall: Tim! The original piano man! Good to see you.
Tim: Same here, Randall.
Randall goes to Milton.
Randall: Milton. Have you lost some weight, dude?
Milton: I wish.
Randall stops and stares at Chip.
Randall: Good God Almighty. If it ain’t the Chipster himself!
Chip: Randall.
Chip rises and hugs Randall. He then stands back to look at him.
Chip: I don’t believe it. You haven’t changed a bit. You still look the same! So it’s true that plastic surgery really works!
Randall: Thanks, man, but this is all natural. Daddy’s rich and my Momma’s good lookin’. You don’t look so bad yourself.
Randall looks down the table at them all like a proud father would.
Randall: Wow. It’s so great to see you guys again. How long has it been since we sat down together? Ten years? Twenty years?
Chip: More than that, I’m afraid. Come on, have a seat.
Randall takes a seat on the opposite end of the table from JJ, next to Chip.
Randall: Sorry I’m late. We played a gig in Shreveport last night and we hit some traffic on the way into town.
Sheryl approaches Randall. He stops talking and looks her over. She finds him attractive and treats him differently than the others accordingly.
Randall: (Smiles at her leeringly) Well, hello, darlin’.
Sheryl: (Coyly) Hello yourself.
Tim: Randall, meet Sheryl. Sheryl, meet the one and only Randall Wilkes.
JJ: Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has entered the building.
Randall: Always happy to meet an angel.
Sheryl: (Smiles at him flirtatiously) What can I get you, Randall Wilkes?
Randall: Sweetheart, I could really use a light beer and I want to order a round of Kamikazes for me and my brothers, okay?
Sheryl: Will do.
She leaves and Randall actually stands up to watch her walk away.
Randall: Oh, God. I’m in love. First time today.
Chip: (He tries unsuccessfully to pull Randall down by his shirtsleeve) Sit down and act your age. She’s just a toddler.
Randall: (Continues to stand and look at Sheryl) Sorry, but you’re dead wrong. I don’t think she’s wearing Huggies under that skirt.
Milton: No, but you’re probably wearing Depends under those Levi’s!
They all laugh. Randall waves Milton off with a grin, sits back down and looks down the table at them.
Randall: So. How is everybody? I can’t believe we’re all together again. And it’s not for somebody’s funeral! It’s a miracle!
Randall glances over to where the stage used to be. JJ sees him start to point.
JJ: Don’t say it, man. Before you bring it up for the fourth time this afternoon I’d like to confirm to you that this is, indeed, the old Jolly Fox club where I ripped my pants and made a fool of myself. There. I don’t want to hear about it again.
Randall looks at JJ and then looks at the imaginary stage toward the audience. A smile of recognition spreads across his face.
Randall: Oh. My. God! (He points) The stage was right over there, right? The one with the heavy red velvet curtain!
Randall starts to laugh as he pictures the scene in his mind.
Randall: Jesus. How can I forget? We were playing some Doobie Brothers song, I think, and I had just stepped back from the mike for the lead break and I turned…
He laughs. JJ puts his head in his hands.
JJ: (In a moaning tone, loudly) Oh, Lord in heaven. Make it stop.
Randall: (Stands and acts out the event) I’m turning around to get a quick sip of beer and suddenly I’m face to face with your lily white, smelly butt. For the first time in my life I had become a real brown-noser! (He laughs) I was in total shock! It’s like I was paralyzed for a moment. I’m staring right into JJ’s full moon and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I’m transfixed! (He sits back down, still laughing)
Tim: We all were.
Milton: Not me. I couldn’t see a thing, I tell you. I just felt this big collective gasp from the audience that sucked all the air out of the room!
Chip: So I finally realized that JJ doesn’t know what’s going on. Like any musician of merit would, I did what I had to do. I ran over and slapped him as hard as I could right on his bare ass to get his attention. (Smacks his hand) Whap!
Randall: (Laughs) That’s right! You almost hit me! And JJ, you instantly jump down off the drum riser and turn to face me and, I’ll swear, your mug is as red as a stoplight! We just stand there looking at each other for a second and then I burst out laughing so hard I couldn’t finish the song! I couldn’t do anything!
Milton: When I at last spotted JJ’s exposed rear end it finally made sense to me. All I knew to do was to hit the curtain button right behind me. Fucking tears of laughter were running down my cheeks. I couldn’t play another lick.
JJ: It took forever for that curtain to come down.
Randall: How embarrassing.
Tim: How funny.
Chip: How unprofessional.
All but JJ are still chuckling over the memory. JJ suddenly glares at Chip.
JJ: Unprofessional? Is that what you said, Chip?
Chip, who has been looking at Randall, looks down the table at JJ.
Chip: Yeah. Unprofessional. Look it up in the dictionary if you don’t know what it means. Mooning the audience is what I consider unprofessional.
JJ: What? You think I did it on purpose, asshole?
Chip: (Chuckles) If I were you I wouldn’t bring up the word asshole.
All but JJ laugh. JJ continues to glare at Chip. The uneasy atmosphere is broken by the return of Sheryl, who comes to the table with Randall’s beer and the five shot glasses.
Randall: (Rubs his hands together gleefully) Ahh. Sheryl, your timing is perfect. Here we go, boys. Let the party begin!
Sheryl starts with Randall and sets the shots down in front of each of them in turn, then goes back to the bar. Randall stands with his shot glass held out in salute.
Randall: (Clears his throat loudly) Here’s to the memory of the best rock and roll band to ever play in this town. To Train Wreck!
They all toast and gulp down their drinks. Randall sits back down. Chip grimaces.
Chip: Ugh! I forgot how nasty those things are.
JJ: Pussy.
Chip shoots JJ an odd, perturbed glance but says nothing.
Tim: Man, back in the old days we used to drink Kamikazes like Kool Aid. I don’t know how we did it.
Milton: Or how we still have functioning livers.
Chip: Just young and stupid is what we were, acting like there was no tomorrow. So, Randall, I hear you’re still singing and playing in clubs.
Randall: More than just clubs. I’m also playing for casinos, corporate functions, private parties. Hell, I’m as busy now as I ever was. I have a five-piece band and two female backup singers. The Randall Wilkes Band played over 200 gigs last year in 25 states.
Chip: Wow. I’m impressed. I really had no idea.
Tim: Do you still write songs?
Randall: Not as much, but I did meet a guy just last night in Shreveport who’s best friend works for a country label in Nashville. I gave him a demo CD, of course. Never say never.
Milton: But you don’t sing country.
Randall: (Shrugs) So what? Hey, if it’ll get me a record deal I’ll be the reincarnation of Buck Owens or Patsy Cline if that’s what they want. Enough about me, though. What’s everybody doing these days?
Chip: I’m a corporate executive in Seattle. Insurance.
Milton: Laundromats. Dad’s old business.
Tim: I’m the office manager at an aluminum siding company.
JJ: Still with the telco. Line technician.
Randall: (Looks around at all of them) So I’m the only one who’s still a working musician? Who’d have believed it?
Tim: (Raises his hand) I would. You were always the most natural of all of us. You were born to perform. You’ll do it till you die. In fact, I figure you’ll be the first person to ever sing at his own funeral.
Chip: (Shakes his head) I don’t see how you still do it night after night after night. Didn’t anyone ever tell you there are healthier and more profitable ways to make a living?
Randall: Oh, I tried my hand at different jobs after Train Wreck. You might recall that I quit the band because I was in love and Paula had convinced me to stop playing music and get a respectable job so her Dad would like me. (Nods at them knowingly) I know, I was an idiot. Anyway, I hired on doing construction for a while, I worked retail, I sold cars… But I just couldn’t stand having someone tell me what to do. I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I talked back to every boss I had. After marrying Paula and then divorcing her six months later I resigned myself to the fact that singing for my supper is what I do best. I haven’t stopped since. I wouldn’t know what else to do with myself now. Some people are born to be corporate executives like ol’ Chip here but not me. I was born to be a bandleader and a bar rat. Tim’s right. I’ll probably keel over while singing “Free Bird.” (Grimaces) What a sad way to go.
Milton: I’d trade places with you in a New York minute. You’ve still got hot babes lining up outside your door every night, I’ll bet.
Randall: (Shrugs) Well, I do okay in that department. Especially since I’m separated from Judy now. But let me tell you something. It ain’t like it used to be out there in Disneyland, boys. Even the most drop-dead beautiful woman is likely to have herpes, genital warts or worse. It’s smarter to try and keep the pony in the barn as much as possible these days.
Tim: (Waving Randall off) Cool it. I don’t want to hear about your sex life. I don’t have one.
Randall: (Frowns) Why’s that?
JJ: He’s married.
Randall: (Nods understandingly) Gotcha. Say no more.
Sheryl returns and begins to collect the empty shot glasses.
Sheryl: Y’all ready for another round?
Randall: Not just yet, gorgeous. But can I get you to come here for a second?
Sheryl walks over to Randall. He ogles her lecherously. The others sit back and observe in admiration of Randall’s flirting skills.
Randall: My, you’re pretty as a Mojave sunset. I feel like I know you. Have we met?
Sheryl: (Shakes her head) I don’t think so.
She looks over at the rest of them.
Sheryl: Oh, by the way, I called my Dad and asked if he ever heard of a group called Train Wreck but he hadn’t, unfortunately. But then I called my grandmother and she freaked out! She used to come here and see you guys all the time. She said you were the best group in town and that all of you were really, really cute! And she said she knew Randall best of all.
She turns back to Randall and smiles.
Sheryl: That’s you, right?
Randall: Yeah. But your grandmother? How can that be?
Sheryl: She’s only 58.
Randall: (Nods) Oh, right.
Milton: What’s her name?
Sheryl: Linda. Linda Meyers. But back then everybody knew her as Dixie. Do you remember her?
A stunned silence falls over the five men. Then they all solemnly shake their heads.
Randall: Um. No, darlin’, doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry.
Sheryl: (Frowns in disappointment) That’s too bad. She’s a real toot. I’m surprised you don’t remember her. Anyway, she said to tell y’all she said “hello.” Just holler if you need anything.
Sheryl walks away back to the bar. This time no one watches her. There is silence for a few moments as they all shift their eyes around at each other.
Randall: Holy shit.
JJ: Considering all the women I slept with back then, I used to have nightmares that some scraggly, snot-nosed kid would show up on my doorstep someday and tell me I’m his father. Now I have to worry about grandchildren I don’t know about? Jeez Louise.
Milton: (Looking around at all of them) You think it’s the same Dixie we knew?
Chip: Duh! Think about it, Milton. How many Dixies hung out here in the mid seventies? We knew all the regulars and I only remember one who called herself Dixie.
Tim: Dixie is Sheryl’s granny? She was hell on wheels. I’m surprised the old girl’s still alive.
Milton: (Snorts) She probably thinks the same thing about us.
Randall: (Gestures to them) I think we all had a few go-rounds with her, right?
They glance at each other and nod.
JJ: Oh, man. That means that any one of us could actually be Sheryl’s…
Randall: (Holding his palm up to JJ) Um, let’s not go there, okay?
Chip: I’m with Randall.
Milton: Ditto.
They share a moment of nervous silence.
Tim: (Slaps the table with his hands) Hey, how ‘bout dem Cowboys?
They all share a good laugh. The tension is broken.
Milton: Do you guys remember the time we intentionally skipped that gig in Corpus Christi and got caught?
Tim: Yes. We made up a “foolproof” story that the converted school bus we were traveling in broke down on the side of the road. Of course, it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe because it was such a piece of crap. It had no A/C and the stupid thing wouldn’t go over 35 miles per hour.
Milton: Yeah, and so we’re partying later that night at that club in Austin with the bus sitting out in the parking lot and the agent who had booked the gig walks in!
Tim: Man, was he pissed off. We were caught red-handed.
JJ: We ended up having to make up that job later on for free, didn’t we?
Chip: That taught us a lesson. We never missed another gig. Ever.
Randall: (Shakes his head) Damn. I don’t remember any of that.
Milton: Okay, here’s another one. Do you remember the time the front wheel fell off the rented truck on the way to Chicago? Randall, you and I could have been killed.
Tim: (Shakes his head emphatically) No, that happened on the way to Atlanta. The transmission fell out onto the highway in Chicago.
Chip: Chicago… Isn’t that where the lady in the apartment across the street from our hotel room kept stripping for us?
JJ: And Randall went over and tried to find her apartment. What a Bozo.
Randall: I never did figure out which one she was in. She seemed so friendly.
Milton: Oh, but the best part of that story is that I went out and bought those cheap binoculars and that’s when we started thinking that maybe she wasn’t a woman at all!
JJ: That was a dude for sure. There’s not a doubt in my mind.
Randall: (Shakes his head) Uh, uh. No way. She didn’t have a dingle!
JJ: He was just hiding it like the serial killer did in “Silence of the Lambs.”
Randall: (Shakes his finger at JJ playfully) Shut the fuck up, man.
Milton: What killer? You mean Hannibal Lecter?
JJ: No, stupid, the weird guy with the poodle.
Milton: Oh, him. Yeah.
Tim: I’m with JJ. That was a guy. He was just hiding his equipment between his legs.
Chip: (Shakes his head) No, no. You’re wrong. It was just a real skinny chick.
Milton: I never could decide for sure. She was pretty flat chested, though. Could have gone either way on that one.
Randall: I’m kinda glad I never found her apartment. Or his. That could have scarred me for life. I shudder at the very thought. (Sings) “Dude looked like a lady…”
They all share a laugh.
Milton: Jeez, we should write a book about those days.
Chip: No one would believe it.
Randall: Especially me. I’ve forgotten more than I could ever remember.
JJ: Not Tim. He’s got it all written down. I mean everything.
Randall: Really?
Tim: (Shrugs) Yeah, sorta. I just kept a journal and wrote stuff on calendars that I managed to keep from losing track of through the years. Nothing formal like a book or anything. Just notes.
Chip: I’d love to see some of that stuff. I try to tell Elizabeth about my life as a rock and roll musician and she thinks I make all those stories up. She’s never even heard me play guitar.
Randall: (Incredulous) Never? Man, I could tell her stuff about you that would make her divorce you on the spot! I can think of lots of shit you and I did that even these guys don’t know about.
Chip: That’s precisely why you’ll never meet her.
Tim: I’ve got every gig we ever played written down. Year, month and day.
JJ: (Nods) He does. I’ve seen the list. Every single gig.
Milton: (Looks at Tim) For real? That’s kind of anal, man.
Tim: Screw you. It’s not, either. I just paid attention, that’s all.
Randall: Actually, I think it’s rather cool. My total list of gigs would be thick as the Yellow Pages.
Milton: I sure hope you didn’t write down anything about Tulsa.
Randall and JJ immediately glare at Milton. Randall gets up and grabs Milton roughly by the shoulder. He leans in to Milton and speaks forcefully.
Randall: Shut the fuck up! You got that, amigo? Don’t say another word. Not one fucking word. Tulsa didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. We made a blood oath together. Don’t be a fucking shithead!
Milton forcefully removes Randall’s hand from his shoulder and looks up into his face.
Milton: I didn’t say nothing! Back off, Randall, before I get up and kick your ass!
Randall: Fuck you, man. We don’t bring up Tulsa. Ever. Got it?
Milton: Got it. Whatever. Sit back down, asshole. Jesus.
Randall glares down at him for a moment longer, then returns to his seat. He gulps down the last few swigs of his beer while the others just sit in silence. Milton straightens out his shirt. Randall slams down his now-empty bottle on the table and looks at the bar. Sheryl is not there.
Randall: (Loudly) Where’s our Goddamn waitress anyway?
The others look over towards the bar.
Tim: (Looking at Randall and a little perplexed) Chill out, Randall. She’s probably on break or something.
Randall: Well, I’m thirsty. Let’s belly up to the bar. Come on, guys.
Chip: I’m fine with what I’ve got. Y’all go ahead.
Tim: I’m okay, too. I don’t have the tolerance for alcohol that I used to. I need to pace myself or I’ll be driving home by Braille.
Randall: (Shrugs as he waves them off) Amateurs.
Milton: I’m in.
JJ: So am I. I prefer your company. (Looks at Chip) Always did.
The three of them get up and walk upstage to take seats at the bar, leaving Chip and Tim at the table. Tim and Chip sit back in their chairs and look at each other, nodding.
Tim: I worried that this reunion might be stiff and kinda timid but it looks like we’ve slipped right back into our old roles like we never broke up.
Chip: Yeah, I guess we haven’t really changed that much.
Tim: Just older and wiser.
Chip: Older, for sure. But wiser? I don’t know if that applies to all of us.
Tim: Hey, what the hell was that about Tulsa?
Chip: (Shrugs) I have no earthly idea. Maybe something about that stripper.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Who knows. It could be anything. So, what’s life like in Seattle?
Chip: Wet. Cloudy. But you get used to it. Kinda nice, actually. Stays cool all summer.
Tim: Your wife’s name is Elizabeth?
Chip: Yeah. She’s a keeper. Gave me two beautiful daughters that I adore. We’ve been together over 30 years now.
Tim: Same with me and Sarah. Three decades and one teenage son. Billy. He’s a good kid.
Chip: I’ll bet. (Takes a sip of his scotch) You ever run into anybody from the old crowd?
Tim: (Shakes his head slightly) Hardly ever. I guess they all just blew away with the wind.
Chip: What about Amanda?
Tim: Nope. (Smiles) But I figured you’d ask about her sooner or later.
Chip: Yeah, well… (He looks over his shoulder to make sure the other three are still at the bar) Just between you and me, she’s the real reason I moved so far away.
Tim: Really? I thought you said you got an offer you couldn’t refuse.
Chip: (Shrugs) So I lied. Truth is, I found the job after I got to Seattle. There was nothing left for me here except sad memories. I had to change everything I knew and move as far away as possible. Had a cousin who lived there.
Tim: I understand. (Sighs) Good old Amanda. She was something else, man. I thought you two were joined at the hip and would be together forever. Everybody did.
Chip: Most of all, me. She and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Sweethearts since birth. Went to the same schools. Altogether I guess we were a couple for almost as long as I’ve been married to Liz.
Tim: (Shakes his head) It was so weird when she left you.
Chip: Tell me about it. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.
Tim: Sure you did.
Chip: I wonder. I thought so, too, but when I was in the cab on the way to the hotel yesterday a lot of shit came flooding back. Along with that “stone in the pit of my stomach” feeling. We drove right past one of the apartments we used to live in and I actually got choked up.
Tim: (Surprised) You? The Iron Man?
Chip glances over his shoulder at the trio at the bar, then back at Tim.
Chip: Hey, we’re just buddies talking here, right? They don’t need to know about any of that.
Tim: Don’t worry. I don’t gossip. Never have. Never will.
Chip: I know. (Pats Tim on the shoulder) You’re one of the good guys, Tim. Discretion is a rarity in today’s world. You know, I’ve always felt bad about how I was so arrogant concerning relationships in the old days. You guys would have a daily soap opera going on about the girls you were screwing with and I’d just sit back all smug and say that Amanda and I were etched in stone together. There was no way in heaven or hell that we’d ever be torn apart. I was as sure of that as the sun rising in the east every morning. What a sorry jackass I must have been to you guys.
Tim: (Shakes his head) We didn’t think you were being smug. Hell, we were all envious of you. You had what we all wanted. Amanda was smart, sweet, gorgeous and totally dedicated to you.
Chip: Yeah, she was. Until I fucked it up.
Tim: Man, you didn’t do anything that the rest of us weren’t doing at one point or another. We all did a lot of bad things to the women in our lives back then. Don’t be hard on yourself.
Chip: (Takes another sip of his drink) That’s what I told myself for a very long time. Amanda had to be the most forgiving woman in the world but she always told me she wouldn’t put up with infidelity. That was the line I couldn’t cross. So I made it into a little game for my amusement. I hid all my little indiscretions from her so cleverly. More than once I even stopped the car, raised the hood and stuck my hands all over the engine so my alibi of having a breakdown would hold up when I came in at five in the morning. Ruined more than a few good shirts that way.
Tim: I never heard of anybody doing that.
Chip: Oh, yeah. I’d come in cursing the car and I’d be covered in grime and acting mad as hell just to cover my tracks. And Amanda would accept it every time without question. She had blind faith in me. She just wouldn’t allow herself to believe that I could lie to her face. Until that girl from Denver came down here.
Tim: What was her name? Jane or something like that?
Chip: Joanie. Don’t you remember? She and some girlfriend of hers decided it would be fun to drive down and show up unannounced. She came strutting into the Back Alley Club when Amanda was there and made a big scene when I told her to leave. Goes and tells Amanda all about our little on-the-road affair and then shows Amanda a Polaroid of me buck-naked in her bedroom.
Tim: Oh, yeah. That was pretty incriminating. Hard to talk your way out of that one. You might recall that I was the lucky man who had to drive you home that night because Amanda had taken your car. We pull up to your duplex and all I see is clothes flying off the porch onto the front lawn. Socks just floating down through the moonlight.
Chip: The worst night of my life. Of course, I put on a brave face. I tried to tell myself I was better off not living a lie anymore. Time to just cut the reins and live the guilt-free playboy life for a while. Yeah, right. After about two months of that bullshit I realized that Amanda was one in a trillion. It dawned on me that some other man was going to be holding her soft, naked body in his arms and I started waking up in the mornings with a broken heart. And I don’t mean that figuratively. My heart would ache like it had a rip in it. So, as you know, I tried to go back to her. But all my attempts to reconcile fell on deaf ears. It was over. She said she could never trust me again and said that I was scared of commitment. That was in ‘78, about six months before the band broke up. I fell into the deepest, darkest depression I’ve ever known and nearly overdosed one night.
Tim: (Nods) I remember that. You ended up in the ER. Scared the shit out of us.
Chip: I was a basket case. So when Randall quit I decided the only way to win her back was to stop playing music and go back to college. Kinda like what Randall did with Paula. You know, show her that I could become a straight and respectable citizen of the world. I even promised to marry her if she’d give me another chance. But I found out that there are some mistakes that you never stop paying for. Never. She moved on with her life and didn’t look back. I lost my soul mate, Tim, and I’ll never fully get over it.
Tim: (Grimaces) Come on, Chip. You did get over it. You carved out a great career for yourself and found a wife you’ve been married to for over 30 years.
Chip: I’m not saying I didn’t move on. What I mean is that I’ve had to settle for second best every day of my life since Amanda left me. Look, if your wife is the perfect one for you then I’m happy that you found her and married her and built a family with her. God bless ya. But I have to live every minute of every day knowing in my heart that I pushed away the one woman the good Lord intended me to be with. Liz is a great gal and she has my body and my mind but she’ll never get my heart because Amanda will have it forever.
Tim: (Raises his eyebrows in disbelief) Wow. That’s some pretty heavy shit to live with, man. But think of it from this angle, then. If you hadn’t met Elizabeth you wouldn’t have your two beautiful daughters that you adore.
Chip: Yeah, a shrink told me that once.
Tim gives Chip another surprised look.
Chip: (Shrugs) What? So I needed a little… help at one point. Don’t get judgmental on my ass. I explained to him that I truly cherish my girls more than anything in this world and can’t imagine my life without them. (Pause) I also told him I wish to God Amanda was their mother.
Tim just looks at Chip for a moment, takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
Tim: I don’t know what to say, man. That’s a really odd statement to make.
Chip: Tell me about it. But that’s how I feel. I don’t think I’ve ever told that to anyone else.
Tim: Well, whatever you do, never tell your wife.
Chip: I wouldn’t dare.
Tim: (Takes a gulp of his beer) I hope you realize that even if Amanda walked into this room right now it would never be the same between you two. Life doesn’t work like that. People change. Don’t walk around thinking everything would be perfect if she would’ve come back into your life.
Chip: Oh, no. Trust me, I don’t feel that way at all. Before I moved away I came to terms with the fact that I would never have another chance with Amanda. That the best I could ever hope for was to find the runner up. And I did. I do love Elizabeth but she’ll never replace Amanda in here. (Places his hand over his heart) Never. And that’s just the God’s honest truth.
He softly thumps his chest with his closed fist. They sit in silence for a moment. Finally Chip looks at Tim and sighs.
Chip: Jesus. What a turd I am to bring all that sad shit up. Today of all days. I really didn’t mean to, man. I guess being back in town and seeing all you guys just brought it all flooding back pretty strongly.
Tim: (Pats Chip on the shoulder) It’s okay. We’re the best friends you’ll ever have and that’ll never change.
Chip: You got that right.
JJ, Randall and Milton return to the table and sit down. They are laughing loudly.
Tim: What’s so damned funny?
Milton: Do you guys remember the time JJ forgot his bass?
Chip: Where was that?
Randall: It was in Houston. We were opening for Foghat. One of our first concerts.
JJ: Only our biggest gig ever.
Milton: We’re backstage, about ready to go on when JJ opens his guitar case and it’s empty!
JJ: (Nods) My bass was sitting peacefully in my living room at home on its fancy little stand. I had cleaned it the night before and forgot to put it back in the case.
Tim: Didn’t you have to borrow somebody’s bass to play?
Randall: Yeah, but it was a fretless!
JJ: Hell, I didn’t know the difference. I’d never even seen a fretless bass before. I just thought “how hard can it be?” (Shrugs) A bass is a bass. Right?
Milton: Anyway, so we go out in front of that huge crowd ready to kick ass and take names.
Randall: And we start off with that really heavy song of Tim’s.
Chip: “Hong Kong”?
JJ: (Snaps his fingers) Yeah. That was it! We couldn’t remember the name of that song over at the bar.
Randall: So we start into Hong Kong and suddenly I’m hearing this God-awful noise from somewhere and I turn to look and JJ is standing there and his face is completely drained of blood.
Tim: Pale as his ass. I can see him now.
JJ: I’m freaking out. My hand is sliding all up and down the thing and I don’t have a freakin’ clue as to how to find the notes because there’s no Goddamn frets and it hits me that I’m in big, big trouble. But we’re in concert so we can’t just stop in the middle of the song and find another, normal bass guitar. And then I realize that they have the brightest spotlight in the world aimed right at me for no good reason! I thought I was going to shit my pants.
They all laugh at the memory.
Milton: Didn’t a roadie finally find a regular bass for you to play?
JJ: Yeah, after two eternally long songs.
Chip: I’d forgotten all about that.
Randall: We thought we’d blown the whole concert but the review in the paper the next day was one of the best we ever got. They said we stole the show from Foghat.
JJ: Go figure.
Chip: I’d love to hear some of the old live tapes we recorded.
Tim: I was counting on that. Got y’all a little surprise. I brought some live stuff with me. Except it’s all digitized and transferred onto CDs now.
Randall: Great! Where are they?
Tim: In my car. Brought a boom box to play them on, too. But I don’t think they’d let us play them in here.
Chip: We’ve got my room upstairs. We can listen up there.
Milton: That’ll work. Me and JJ can go get us a bottle from the liquor store across the street.
Randall: How fitting will that be. Partying in a hotel room!
Chip: Just like the old days. I’ll take care of the bar tab. Let’s meet in the lobby in ten minutes.
They all finish their drinks and rise from the table. The lights fade.
ACT II
The scene takes place in one of the hotel’s elevators. The back wall and corners of the car are the only props. The area allowed for the interior of the car should be overstated in order to allow the audience the ability to see all of the characters.
The scene opens with the five men standing and waiting for imaginary elevator doors to open. An attractive woman in a short, sexy red dress, HANNA WATERS, also waits. She doesn’t know any of them and vice versa. Tim carries an oversized workout bag that contains a small boom box and some CDs. Milton has a bottle of whiskey in a paper sack. They are mumbling to themselves as the door opens. They let the woman enter first and she goes to stand in the back of the car stage right. Randall gets in next to her, Milton next to him, then Tim in the back stage left. Chip gets in front of the woman stage right and JJ is the last to enter, standing in front of Tim stage left. Chip pushes a button on an imaginary number board in front of him. He then turns to Hanna, who is fumbling around in her purse.
Chip: What floor do you need to go to?
Hanna: Fifteen. Thanks.
They are silent for a moment.
Tim: This kinda reminds me of the hotel we stayed at in New Orleans.
Just as he says “Orleans” all of them react slightly because the elevator has stopped suddenly.
Milton: Uh, oh.
Randall: We’re not moving.
Chip pushes the button for their floor but nothing happens.
Tim: I think we’re stuck.
JJ: You’ve got to be kidding me.
Randall: Chip, what the fuck did you do?
Chip: I didn’t do a damned thing. It just stopped on its own.
Hanna is impatient. She gently pushes Chip out of the way.
Hanna: Excuse me.
She does nothing more than reach over and push buttons like Chip did.
Chip: It’s not working.
Hanna: Oh, crap. Not again.
She moves back into the corner and sighs heavily.
Hanna: (Exasperated) I don’t believe this fucking hotel.
JJ: Boys and girls, I do believe we are officially stranded.
Tim: (Sarcastically) Ya think?
Chip bends down and fiddles with the panel.
Chip: Isn’t there supposed to be a phone in here?
Randall: Just push that red emergency button.
Chip pushes a button and an alarm bell sounds.
Tim: Keep pushing it.
Chip pushes the button a few more times and the bell sounds each time. He stops and turns to the rest of them.
Chip: We know the bell works, at least. What do we do now?
Milton: Well, that’s a stupid question. We wait for somebody to come get us out, dumb ass.
Randall: How long will that take?
Milton: Another stupid question. Probably as soon as they can. Just stay calm, everybody.
There is a crackling, static sound. Then a female voice is heard in the car.
Voice: Is there an emergency?
They all instinctively look up at the ceiling of the car. They all answer “yes” in unison.
Voice: Please just let one person speak.
Randall: We’re stuck, lady!
Voice: Is the elevator moving?
Randall gives the others a disbelieving glance.
Randall: Well, now if it was moving we wouldn’t be stuck, would we?
Voice: Is there any message displayed on the front panel?
They all look at the panel in front of Chip.
Randall: No, just an up arrow.
There is silence for a moment.
Randall: Hello?
Voice: Yes, I’m here. The elevator has malfunctioned.
Randall: No shit, honey buns.
Voice: (Sounding like she’s reading from a script) Please remain calm. This is only a temporary situation. Please try to make yourselves comfortable while an emergency repair crew is summoned to resolve the problem. Do not, I repeat, do not try to open the doors manually.
Hanna: How long will we be in here, lady?
Voice: We will get you out of there as soon as possible.
Milton: See? Told you.
Hanna: Fuck.
All five of the men look at her. She doesn’t look back at them, just closes her eyes and leans back into the corner again.
Voice: Again, please stay calm and we will get you out of there as soon as we can.
Randall: Roger that.
They all stand and look at each other in bewilderment.
JJ: You heard the lady. Let’s make ourselves comfortable. We might be here a while.
JJ sits down on the floor and the other men follow suit. Hanna stays standing. Randall looks over at her exposed legs and smiles up at her. She gives him an exasperated look, then one of resignation. She lowers herself into a sitting position as gracefully as she can manage. Randall looks at her and smiles again. He holds out his hand to her.
Randall: My name’s Randall, darlin’.
She looks at him suspiciously, then reluctantly shakes his hand.
Hanna: I’m Hanna.
Randall: Very pleased to meet you.
Randall waves his hand at the others.
Randall: This is Train Wreck.
Hanna: I beg your pardon?
Randall: We used to be in a band together. We called ourselves Train Wreck. (Points) That’s Chip, Milton, Tim and JJ. We’re having our first official reunion today.
Hanna: Looks like it’s been a while since you played together. Who’d you play with? Glenn Miller?
Randall: (Snorts sarcastically) Oh, that’s funny. Baby, we’re old but we’re not that old. We broke up in 1978.
Hanna: Whatever. You’ll have to pardon me for not giving a shit.
She pulls a cell phone out of her purse and opens it. Randall looks at the others.
Randall: The bitch is crazy about me. I can tell.
JJ: No doubt about it.
Milton: This is fucked up, guys. We could be here for hours.
Chip: Anybody got any cards?
Randall: Why? So I can take all your money again like I did in Memphis that time?
Chip: That was a fluke. You just got lucky. Or you cheated.
Tim: (Shakes his head) No, Chip, you were just bad. You have no excuses.
Hanna closes her cell phone and angrily puts it back in her purse. They all look at her.
Hanna: Fuck!
JJ: There a problem, Hanna?
Hanna: Can’t get a fucking signal in this shit hole.
Chip: Trying to call your John?
Hanna: (Glares at Chip) Excuse me. Did you say my John? What are you saying? You think I’m a hooker? Fuck you.
Chip: Honey, I know a hooker when I see one. I travel for a living and I see your type in every hotel in every city. You might fool them but you don’t fool me. (Shrugs) Not that it matters to any of us one way or the other.
Hanna: Then mind your own business, motherfucker.
Randall grimaces and gives her a frowning look.
Randall: Damn, woman. You got a real dirty mouth on you. You’re no lady, that’s for sure.
Hanna: Fuck off, loser.
Randall looks at the others with a grin.
Randall: Told you. She’s in love with me.
Tim: She can’t help it. You’re irresistible.
Hanna closes her eyes and rests her head against the corner of the car.
Chip: Speaking of dirty mouths. Do any of you remember Maxine at the Red Door Club in Austin?
Tim: The bartender who knocked out that Hell’s Angel dude one night because he was messing with her girlfriend?
Chip: (Nods) Yeah. Her. She made Hanna here sound like a nun.
Milton: She wasn’t afraid of anybody, either.
JJ: Everybody was afraid of her, though. God Almighty, that was one tough broad.
Randall: All I remember about that club was the incredible amount of college co-eds that hung out there. And all of them beautiful women.
Milton: And all of them horny.
Chip: (Shakes his head) That place was a rock and roll den of iniquity. It ruined you guys.
JJ: (Irritated) Shut up, Chip. What did you know about it?
Chip: A lot more than you think.
JJ: Bullshit. You were a phony.
Chip: What’s that supposed to mean, JJ?
JJ: I’d be glad to tell you what I mean but I don’t think you want to hear it.
Chip: Try me.
JJ: Okay. You were nothing but a two-faced hypocrite and it sounds like you still are.
Chip: Eat shit, JJ.
The others are watching this escalate in wonder.
Randall: Hey, hey, hey. What’s with you two?
Chip: I don’t know. I got no problem. JJ seems to, though.
JJ: Damn right, I do. I’m just telling it like it was. And is.
Chip: And what’s that, dumb shit?
JJ: Just what I said. You’re a fucking hypocrite.
Chip: If you say so.
JJ: Yeah, I do. You sit there acting like you weren’t screwing around like the rest of us but we all know that’s a lie. Back in those days you’d sit at the bar on the breaks and look down your nose at us like you were some kind of morally superior being. You’d sneer at us like we were nothing but a pack of stray dogs. Then you’d come home and gossip to Amanda who’d turn right around and tell our girlfriends what we’d been up to and then we’d catch holy hell. Man, that used to piss me off big time! You were a fucking Judas!
Chip: (Indignantly) That’s crap and you know it, JJ. You didn’t stay with a woman long enough to call any of them a girlfriend. You’re an idiot. Who, exactly, would Amanda have told anything to? You got yourself in trouble. Don’t go blaming me for your stupidity.
Tim: Yeah, what’s eating you, JJ? All that petty bullshit that went on between you two should be dead and buried. You don’t need to be digging it up today.
JJ: You’re probably right, Tim. It’s just that I put up with so much crap from Chip back then. I ain’t going to put up with it now. No way.
Chip: (Waves JJ off) I don’t care what you think of me. Never did.
JJ: (Points at Chip) Good, because I think you’re a backstabbing motherfucker.
Randall: (Frowning) Damn, JJ. Ease up already. You’re shadow boxing.
Chip: No, no, no. Let him rant. Go on, JJ. Tell us all why I’m a backstabbing motherfucker. We’ve got nothing better to do. In fact, I’m enjoying watching you make an ass of yourself.
JJ: You think I don’t know, do you?
Chip: Know what?
JJ: That you ratted me out to Sandra and that’s why she dumped me. And then you had the nerve to cheat on Amanda with her. Oh, yeah. (Nodding) I know all about it, pal.
Chip: (Incredulous) Sandra who?
JJ: Sandra Jenkins. The tall blonde I lived with on and off for about a year back in ‘76. Don’t act like you don’t remember. You know exactly who she was!
Chip: (Shrugs) You’re delusional. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.
JJ: Well, I do so let me refresh your highly selective memory. I got the whole story right after the band folded right from Katy, her best friend and roommate. She said you called Sandra out of the blue one night and told her I was chasing every skirt I could while we were out of town. She said you even supplied her with names! You broke the non-negotiable rule of rock and roll, you son of a bitch. You don’t fuck with another band member’s girl. Ever.
Chip: (In mock resignation) If you say so, JJ. And what if I did, you son of a bitch? Maybe I was just trying to do the right thing by saving her from heartbreak. You didn’t deserve a decent girl like that. You went through women like they were Kleenex tissues so what made this one so special all of a sudden?
JJ suddenly stands up and looms over Chip, poking his finger in Chip’s face. He is livid.
JJ: Because I cared about her! I loved that girl! Adored her! And you broke us up just so you could get in her pants! Don’t you fucking deny it, I know what you did! Katy said you kept calling Sandra every day after that and then one night you showed up with a bottle of tequila and a shoulder to cry on. Then you fucked her till daylight! And after that night, after you got your nut, you never called her again. You’re nothing but a fucking maggot, you self-righteous prick!
Chip: (Angrily) Back off, JJ. Get your Goddamn finger out of my face!
Milton gets up and pushes JJ back, then stands between JJ and Chip.
Milton: Sit down, JJ. Sit down and stay down.
JJ pauses, glares at Chip, then sits back down reluctantly. The others are bewildered by JJ’s outburst. Hanna shakes her head in disbelief.
Hanna: Holy shit. You guys are fucking morons. All this over some old girlfriend from over a quarter century ago? Get a life.
JJ: It’s about a lot more than some old girlfriend, sister. That’s just the tip of the iceberg with this bastard.
Chip: Damn, JJ. You’re not going to let it go, are you? And what’s this made up “rule of rock and roll” you’re talking about? I always thought the only rule was all’s fair in love and war. I really didn’t think Sandra meant that much to you. I don’t think any of us did.
JJ: (Still angry) It’s not really about her at all. You still don’t get it, do you? This is about you, asshole.
Chip: (Exasperatedly) What the fuck?
JJ: I’ll tell you what the fuck! You always acted so holier than thou. You actually had the balls to lecture us on our behavior! You’d get into these long discussions about how you and Amanda were so perfect and how you two had this deep-seated, unbreakable trust between you. And all the time you were out there cheating and whoring just like the rest of us. As if the sermons you preached didn’t apply to you. You just thought it was okay because you were so sneaky and careful. And then I found out you schemed to turn Sandra against me, one of your closest friends, just so you could screw her and then dump her like yesterday’s trash. And you call me a bad guy? Jesus, man, it was one thing to fuck over your pristine Princess Amanda but to fuck over a true friend in order to do it?
Chip points his finger at JJ angrily.
Chip: (Loudly) You keep Amanda out of this. I mean it.
JJ: (Shrugs) You reaped what you sowed with her, buddy. She deserved better.
Chip: (Shouts) Shut up!
Chip and JJ glare at each other. Milton is poised to step between them again if necessary. Chip becomes distraught and emotional. He makes a gesture of surrender towards JJ.
Chip: Okay. I’ll fess up. Yeah, JJ, I made terrible mistakes with Amanda. Awful, unforgivable mistakes. Every single one of you knows it. And I have to live every day of my life with those mistakes. I know I wasn’t a good person back then. I know that all too well. You don’t have to remind me, JJ. I remind myself every Goddamn day.
Chip hangs his head for a moment and no one says a word. He finally looks back up at JJ.
Chip: You’re right, JJ. Right on every point. Is that what you need to hear? I’ll openly confess all my transgressions right here and now if that’ll make you feel better about yourself. I’m guilty of everything you said. I had no right to do what I did to you and Sandra. None whatsoever. And you’re right about that being just the tip of the iceberg. I committed sin after sin for years without a shred of conscience. And now those sins are my cross to bear.
He stops again and wipes his eyes. He is visibly upset.
Chip: I’m sorry, man. Truly sorry. I guess I was jealous of the life you guys were living. I wanted to sleep with girls like Sandra and keep Amanda at the same time. At some point I convinced myself that there really wasn’t anything wrong with doing that. It really wasn’t anything personal against you, JJ. Given the opportunity, I would’ve fucked over Tim, Milton or Randall the same way. Like I said, I wasn’t a decent human being. I wasn’t even a reliable friend. It took hitting emotional rock bottom for me to finally face my disgusting self after I lost everything that was dear to me. Especially Amanda.
Randall: We know that was hard on you.
Chip: You don’t know the half of it. (Pauses) All I can tell you is I’m not that same person anymore. Haven’t been for a long, long time. But, unfortunately, that’s the person you remember. I owe you all an apology. I’m so sorry.
They are silent for a moment. JJ looks at Chip.
JJ: (A little embarrassed) Yeah, well, I guess I’m sorry, too. I should never have brought it up but you made me mad. You totally pissed me off when you said we’d wasted our time playing together in the band and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I had to get that out.
Chip: (Nods) Glad you did. You said some things that needed to be said. Still friends?
JJ: Yeah. Still friends.
They lean up and shake hands. Hanna rolls her eyes.
Hanna: I don’t believe this shit. What a Goddamn soap opera. You act like a bunch of old ladies.
There is a crackle and static sound from overhead.
Voice: Everyone doing okay in there?
Hanna: (Loudly) No, Goddamn it. Get me the fuck out of here. These creeps are mental midgets and they’re getting on my nerves.
Randall: We’re fine. Don’t listen to her.
Voice: Are you okay, Miss? Don’t be afraid to speak up if you feel threatened.
Hanna: Yeah, yeah. I’m peachy. Just hurry up. I’ve had about all of the “over the hill gang” I can stand in here.
Voice: We should have you out of there real soon. Hang on and be patient, please.
Hanna: (Under her breath) Fuck you.
Everyone shifts a little, trying to get more comfortable.
Randall: So am I hearing this right? Some of you agree with Chip in thinking Train Wreck was a waste of time?
Milton: (Points at Chip) I think only Chip Shot over there actually feels that way.
Randall: (Frowns at Chip) Christ. That’s a real slap in the face. Is it true? You really feel that way, man?
Chip: (Uneasily) I don’t know. I’m kinda confused right now. Not really, I guess. My being a total shit throughout all those years probably stains my outlook on it all. Maybe calling it wasted time is a little too severe.
Tim: Yeah, Chip. It is.
Milton: It’s disrespectful.
Chip: Again, I’m sorry. We were just talking, you know? (Addresses Randall) When I look back on the six years we spent together sometimes I just feel that, since we were never even offered a record deal or anything close to it, we could have spent that time doing something more practical. More lucrative, at least. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe I’ve just been away from you guys too long.
Randall: Well, hindsight is 20/20. You can get lost in the “woulda, coulda, shoulda’s.” I try not to get bogged down in regrets.
Tim: I think we did the best we could with what we had but fortune just didn’t smile on us. No one’s to blame for that.
Milton: Um, that’s not really true, Tim.
Tim: (Looks at Milton quizzically) What do you mean by that?
Milton: (Looks right at Tim) I mean that a lot of the blame for us not making it big falls right on you, man. No offense but that’s exactly what I mean.
Tim: What? How do you figure?
Milton: (Shrugs) Hey, it’s true whether you want to admit it or not. Like I told you and JJ earlier, I think about my days with Train Wreck all the time. Our band had it together. We were primed and ready for the next big step. Let me refresh your memory. We were playing over at the Rocking Horse and we got fired because we were late getting back up on the stage one night.
Randall: I remember that. The manager’s name was…. Clayton something. Um, Clayton Young. He was a real dick. Used to carry around a stopwatch to time our breaks and our sets.
Milton: But the thing was that the rest of us were all up on stage ready to play. But Tiny Tim here was back in the game room trying to get the high score on Centipede, for God’s sake.
Tim: (Confused) Okay. What of it? Come on, that bastard Clayton was just looking for a reason to can us because he didn’t want to pay us what we were contracted for.
Milton: Still, you gave him a reason.
JJ: (Tiredly) So? What’s your point, Milton? It was just one gig and the place went under and closed its doors a month later.
Milton: (Louder and with some frustration) The point is that the band that replaced us the very next night just happened to be Love Field. And that was the night those A&R guys from Black River Records just happened to come into the Rocking Horse and the next thing we know Love Field has a fucking record deal! The way I see it, if we’d been playing there that night like we were supposed to we would have been discovered instead. And our lives would have been totally different. It all could have been ours. We had the songs, the look, the talent. We had everything. But we weren’t there that night because Tim wanted to play a fucking video game!
Tim: (Incredulous) So… you’re blaming the fact that we didn’t become international rock stars on me. Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re unbelievable, you know that?
Milton: (Shrugs) Hey, if the shoe fits… It’s the little twists of fate that make huge differences. The way I see it you selfishly chose to keep playing some stupid video game instead of being a professional and it cost us our best chance to make something of ourselves. And, since we’re all being chummy and coming clean about the past here today I figure it’s time I told you how I feel. There ya go.
Tim: (Stares at Milton in disbelief) I can’t believe you’re serious. What a crock.
Randall: Come on, Milton. Life’s not black and white like that and you know it. There’s no possible way of saying for certain that those record guys would have even liked us at all. Love Field was a lot more hard rock than we ever were. Something about them grabbed their interest and the rest is history. You can’t just plug Train Wreck in that night and expect the same result. Get a grip on reality, man.
Milton: That’s easy for you to say, Randall. You don’t have to live in my reality. You’re still living the life I loved. The life you pulled out from under me the day you quit the band. You don’t have to drag your fat ass out of bed every morning to go fix filthy washers and dryers in the worst part of town and have to listen to complaints from scum of the earth ingrates. I hate my fucking lot in life. I’ve got an ugly heifer of a wife that doesn’t respect me and a spoiled son that thinks I’m some kind of relic from the Stone Age. I look at myself in the mirror and I see a man decaying right before my eyes. I drive around in my truck and I constantly daydream about the days when I was the drummer for Train Wreck. I was somebody special then. I had gorgeous women with perfect bodies flirting with me every night. I was smiling and laughing and having the time of my life back then. It’s hell living with the fact that all the good times I’m ever going to have ended when I was 28 years old. And I’m convinced that if Tim hadn’t fucked around and got us fired from the Rocking Horse I might still be living that life today.
Tim: (Shakes his head) Whatever you want to think, Milton. You want to blame me because your existence on this earth sucks? Go ahead. I don’t care. And I still couldn’t do shit to change it if I did.
JJ: (To Milton) You think we don’t miss those days, too? Of course we do. I mean, who wouldn’t? But evidently the rest of us figured out a way to let go at some point and move on.
Chip: (To Milton) The band failed for a lot of reasons, dude, but Tim really isn’t one of them. It’s not fair to say he blew it for us.
Randall: (To Milton) And whatever utopian existence you might think I’m living these days is just a cartoon fantasy floating around in your little pea-sized brain, man. It’s fucking hard work keeping everything in my band orderly and moving in the same direction day after day. I have to oversee everything. And it definitely ain’t like the non-stop party we lived back in the days. Not even close, my friend. Sometimes I look at getting up on stage and playing a set at one o’clock in the morning the same way you look at scrubbing down one of your washing machines. But I have to keep doing it for as long as I possibly can because it’s all I’ve got!
Milton: Okay, so maybe you guys deal with the past better than I do. Good for you. But you don’t know bad it gets in my head, though. If you did maybe you’d understand. (He turns to face Tim) I’m sorry for blaming you like that. That was wrong, I guess. But don’t you ever wonder why we didn’t get our big break? I just keep thinking it should have been us instead of Love Field. We were better in every way than those amateurs. And if it would have been us that landed that record deal I probably wouldn’t be carrying around a loaded .38 in my truck in case I finally get the nerve someday to blow my fucking brains out.
The others, including Hanna, all stare at Milton.
Randall: (Shocked) Say what?
Hanna: Man, you need some serious therapy.
Tim grabs Milton’s arm.
Tim: Say you don’t mean that.
Milton: It’s true.
Hanna: Jesus. I gotta get the fuck out of here. You guys are a bunch of potato heads.
Randall turns to her.
Randall: Whore, why don’t you just keep your snide comments to yourself? This ain’t none of your business.
Hanna: I’m glad of that.
JJ: (Concerned) Milton, you gotta know we’re all here for you anytime you start feeling like that.
Milton looks around at all of them and shakes his head.
Milton: Bullshit. When’s the last time you dropped by my house for a beer, JJ? Randall, when’s the last time you called up just to see how I’m doing? And Chip, somehow I seem to have slipped off of your Christmas Card list, compadre. You see what I’m saying here? You guys were my best friends, my partners in crime, my adopted blood brothers and then one day in the late seventies I woke up and all of you were gone. Fucking gone. You left me behind nearly four decades ago and you never came back. So don’t tell me how you’re there for me!
Tim: But Milton, none of us stay in touch very well. It ain’t just you. That’s why we’re having this reunion. Maybe after today we won’t drift so far away from each other again. Man, if I had known you were suicidal I’d checked on you more often, that’s for sure. You’re important to me. You’re important to all of us. Don’t be talking shit like that anymore. There’s not a single one of us who wouldn’t be absolutely devastated if something happened to you. You gotta believe that.
The four men nod at Milton.
Chip: Tim’s right.
JJ: Amen.
Randall: You’ve got my number. Call me anytime you like. Day or night.
Milton looks at Randall and grins.
Milton: Even when you’re on stage, shaking your skinny tush for a bunch of hot babes?
Randall: (Smiles) Even then. I could pipe you through the P.A.
Chip: There’s an idea. Suicide Hotline live on stage. Now that’s what I call high dollar entertainment!
Hanna shakes her head in disgust. Randall notices and looks over at her.
Randall: Problem?
Hanna: (Looks at Randall and shrugs) No, no. Like you said, it’s none of my fucking business.
Randall: No, if you’ve got a comment I think we deserve to hear it. Go ahead and say what’s on your mind.
Hanna: I’m not sure you guys are up to it emotionally.
Tim: We’re a lot tougher than you think.
Hanna: Okay, but don’t blame me if you don’t like what you hear. It’s just that I’m stuck here listening to you older-than-Adam jokers babble on about a bunch of petty grudges you still have between each other and it makes me sick.
She looks over at Chip and gestures toward him.
Hanna: Take Chip here for example. From what I can tell he seems to be doing all right for himself these days. He most likely grew up in a safe, sheltered all-white suburb where he had his own room in his parent’s cozy two-story brick house. Probably had a walk-in closet full of stylish new clothes to wear every day. And when the young, teenage Chip decided he wanted to be in a combo like the Beatles and The Monkees and play electric guitar his Mommy and Daddy ran right out and bought it for him. No problem. Then he let his hair grow out and, before he knew it, he had a whole lot of cute, skinny chicks with long, straight blonde hair just dying to be his steady girlfriend. (Looks around at the others) And I’m guessing that all five of you grew up about the same way. Am I right?
JJ: More or less. What’s your point?
Hanna: My point is that even after all these years you’re still a bunch of spoiled fucking brats! You didn’t have to grow up in a neighborhood like the one I was raised in up in Chicago where you woke up in the morning and you just hoped that the rats hadn’t eaten all your stale Cheerios. You didn’t grow up wondering who your father might be because your mom told you it could have been one of five different men. You certainly didn’t have to guess where she might be crashed at because she’d been on a weeklong whiskey and crack cocaine binge. And I’m willing to bet you didn’t have to sit alone in the dark at night listening to crazy people screaming and fighting over dope in the apartment next door until six in the morning. That’s just a tiny sample of what my childhood was like. I could go on and on if you want to hear more about it.
Randall: (Shakes his head) Sorry to hear that, darlin’, but what does that have to do with us?
Hanna: It has everything to do with you. You don’t even know how good you had it. What I’m saying is, besides the obvious fact that you didn’t have to grow up in the worst part of town, you got to be musicians! Don’t you know that every time you guys got up on stage and started playing rock and roll songs that all the people in the crowd would have given their right arm to be able to do that? To get paid to perform music, drink like fish and smoke reefer in the parking lot on your breaks? To have the bright lights shining on you and know what it’s like to be the center of attention every night? So what if you didn’t get to be superstars? You were already bigger than life to your audience. You got to live a fantasy for six years that most people can only wish to experience for five minutes. Let me ask you guys something. Have you ever paid for a prostitute? Any of you?
They all look around at each other and shake their heads.
Hanna: See? The pathetic, rich Johns I get paid to service are mostly your age and they’re all still searching in vain for that thrill, that sensation, that experience of being desired that you guys got to know firsthand. Y’all never have to seek out a hooker for some kind of erotic or taboo stimulation because you don’t sit around wondering what that elusive thing feels like. You know what it feels like. You experienced it hundreds of times. And you never had to pay for it. Not once. The horny chicks came on to you because you were in a Goddamn band! You were their fantasy fuck. They were helplessly drawn to you like moths to a flame. So when I hear that JJ over there is still furious with Chip because he was a back-stabbing asshole back in ‘77 or when I hear Milton threatening to shoot his head off because he thinks Tim selfishly cut him out of his place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame I want to vomit. Jesus! Count your blessings, you dolts! You got to do for years and years what 99.9% of the population can only dream they could do for one night! So I’m saying stop all your whining and enjoy the fact that you’re all still alive and healthy. And the fact that y’all still give a shit about each other. Some of us have never had friendships like the ones you have. Ever. Cherish what you’ve got. That’s all I wanted to say.
They are all quiet for a moment.
JJ: Good grief. We just got dressed down by a whore! We must be some awfully pathetic pieces of shit, guys.
Hanna: You asked for it, sucker. I warned you.
Randall: (Shakes his head) Nope, nope. I ain’t buying it. What you’re unaware of, Hanna, is the years of work we devoted to Train Wreck in order to do what we did for so long. You think all we had to do was pick up a guitar or a drumstick and start singing? It’s a lot harder than that. I assure you that none of us was born a musical prodigy or an instant virtuoso. That would’ve been nice but no such luck. For guys like us it was a constant struggle to learn how to play and sing. And while all of our teenage friends were out cruising and partying we were holed up in somebody’s musty, hot garage somewhere trying to figure out the chords to the newest Stevie Wonder song. We practiced until we had blisters on our fingers just so we could perform at the school sock hop for five bucks a man. We gave up relationships and more just so we could follow our dream of being a professional rock and roll band. And later on when our buddies would go driving by in their fancy new cars we were still puttering along in our beat-up vans, hauling amplifiers and stage lights to some hole-in-the-wall saloon in Bumfuck, Texas. And the competition to play even those shitty little gigs was fierce. Every band in the state was just itching for a chance to blow us off the stage and take our place. You make it sound like we had it served to us on a silver platter but it was dog eat dog all the way. What you saw was the payoff. What you didn’t see was the blood, sweat and tears that led up to it.
Hanna: I’m not saying you didn’t have to work for it. I hear you. But take some regular Joe who went to college and got a bachelor’s degree. He worked his butt off, too, but what was his payoff? A cubicle in some sterile office in a high-rise downtown? There’s no comparison at all. Your payoff was a whole lot more glamorous than his was by far. And I, for one, would have gladly changed places with you in a split second. Compared to my fucked up life you lived like heirs to the royal Goddamn throne of England.
Tim: She’s right, guys. We lived the high life. We really did. And, when you think about it, that look of envy on the faces in the audience was one of the big reasons we kept doing it for as long as possible. We should be thanking our lucky stars instead of fighting and telling each other what crappy people we were.
Milton: That’s what I thought this reunion was going to be about, anyway. Talking about the good old days and having some laughs. If I wanted to argue I would’ve stayed at home.
Tim: I think it comes down to this. We may have technically been adults back then but, compared to how old we are now, we were just kids who didn’t know shit from Shinola. We need to give ourselves some slack.
There is a pause, then Randall turns to Hanna.
Randall: So, Miss Hanna, I guess we’re indebted to you for setting us straight.
Hanna: Good. That’ll be fifty bucks each.
All the men laugh.
Chip: Yeah, right.
JJ: In your dreams, darlin’.
Hanna: (Shrugs) Hey, I figured it was worth a shot. I should have been a shrink. Easier than blowing all of you.
Milton: (Leaning forward and looking at Hanna) Um, how much would that cost me?
Randall: Damn, Milton! Ugh!
There is a cracking, static sound again from overhead. They all turn their heads upward.
Voice: Ladies and gentlemen, the elevator repairman is ready to get you out of there now. There will be a slight jolt, then the car will gently lower back down to the lobby level. Please do not try to open the door. It will open automatically when the car stops.
Just then they all react to a slight jolt as the elevator starts moving again.
JJ: Thank God. I thought I was going to have to watch Hanna blow Milton!
They all laugh as they get up from the floor.
Hanna: Don’t kid yourself. He couldn’t afford it.
The elevator door opens and they all step out into the lobby. Hanna steps away from them and dials on her cell phone. The others just stand in a circle.
Chip: Now, where were we?
Tim: I think we were on our way up to your room before we were so rudely interrupted.
Randall: So let’s grab another elevator. I ain’t afraid. I don’t think we’ll get stuck twice in a row.
Milton: You wouldn’t think so.
They look over at Hanna as she hangs up her phone.
JJ: Hanna? You still got a date upstairs?
Hanna: Yep. And he can’t wait to see me.
Tim: Wanna ride up with Train Wreck?
Hanna: (Shakes her head) No, thanks. I’ll take the next elevator.
Randall: Suit yourself, sister.
Tim: It’s been real. Good luck.
They exit stage right. Hanna exits stage left. The lights fade.
ACT III
The scene takes place in the living room area of Chip’s hotel suite. It isn’t extravagant but is still larger than an average room in that the bedroom is separate. The audience’s view is that of looking inward as if through the window. There is a couch stage left, a coffee table center stage and two chairs stage right. A bar is upstage with Tim’s portable stereo on it.
As the scene opens Tim is standing and staring out the imaginary window towards the audience. Milton and JJ sit on the couch, Chip sits in the chair farthest upstage and Randall sits in the other chair. There is an open bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and there is a live recording of Train Wreck playing music from the 1970s. No one says anything at first while the song playing comes to an end. It will continue to play quietly in the background during the act.
Chip: Damn! That was some hot guitar playing I did on that song if I say so myself. I had forgotten how tight we were. I’m really impressed. Are you sure that’s us?
Randall: I wish I could still sing high notes like that! I sound like a castrato on some of those songs!
Milton: I’m telling you guys. No other band in town could touch us. We should have been cover boys for Cream Magazine! Or at least fabulously wealthy by now!
Tim is still looking out the window.
Tim: I think Chip is. Check out this room. And this view. I think I can see all the way to Saskatchewan from here. (Looks over at Chip) Must’ve really set you back a few pesos, compadre.
Chip: Not a penny. This is officially a “business trip” so it’s just another tax deduction for the company. Sometimes I get a suite bigger than this. In fact, sometimes I get a walk-in closet! It’s all booked by my secretary and I never know what kind of room I’ll have till I get where I’m going. It’s usually something like this, though.
Randall: You have a personal secretary? Jeez, Chip. You’re making me proud, my boy!
Milton: Is she hot? Be honest.
Chip: Actually, she is. She’s about 25 with dark brown hair, green eyes and a kickin’ bod. She turns heads, that’s for sure.
Milton: Aren’t you ever tempted to bend her over the desk and give her a big, fat raise?
Chip: Tempted? Every damn day. I’m not dead just yet. But I do know better than to take my lust beyond daydreaming. That’s the fastest way to find yourself poring over the employment section these days. Not worth it. I just get an eyeful whenever I can.
Tim turns away from the window and walks to the bar where he takes a seat on a barstool.
Milton: Let me ask you guys something. Just between us. Any of y’all ever cheat on your wives?
JJ: You mean current wives? That leaves me out. I don’t have one.
Randall: And I’m legally separated. That makes it not count.
Milton: I know, but what about when you were still married?
They glance around at each other for a moment.
JJ: (Shrugs) Okay, I’ll jump in. Yeah, I did. A few times. Can’t say that I’m particularly proud of it, though. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Randall: I cheated, too. Why do you think I’m estranged from my third wife? I never seem to learn my lesson. I’m a bad, bad boy.
Chip: Not me. Had several opportunities over the years but never did, thank God. (Looks at JJ) And no, I’m not bragging or trying to come off as some kind of goody two-shoes. I learned my lesson with Amanda.
Tim: I cheated. Once. About ten years ago. I don’t recommend it.
Milton: Shoot, I don’t care what y’all say. I would love to have a steamy affair but, as you can probably tell, I’m not exactly a chick magnet these days. And a funky old Laundromat is not where horny young ladies generally hang out.
JJ: Well, take it from me, Milton. It’s not worth the risk and it’s never as good as you think it’s going to be. It’s like someone once told me. No matter how good she might look, there’s some guy out there somewhere who’s sick to death of her.
Tim: Amen.
Randall: Ain’t that the truth!
Milton: I’m not talking about some kind of long-term relationship. I don’t want to break up my marriage. Can’t it just be a matter of spontaneous, consensual sex between mature and fun-loving adults?
Randall: No, Milton, it can’t. It isn’t like that at all. You might think it’ll be just a one-time, no-strings-attached hump in the hammock but the next thing you know she’s calling you at home and causing trouble. You find out real quick that you have very little control over what the chick is going to do. Didn’t you see “Fatal Attraction?” That wasn’t fiction, man. That was a Goddamned documentary!
Tim: Scariest man-movie in history.
JJ: Bar none.
Randall: In fact, I’ve got a true-life story about that very subject. (Leaning forward in his chair) I guess you guys didn’t know her but Janice was my second wife. She was a great gal and we had a really good marriage going for us. Had us a nice little place in the country. Then one day I came home from a road trip to Atlanta and this chick Rhonda, a girl I screwed one time up in Nebraska, is sitting on the front porch with my wife! Well, the next thing I know sweet little Janice is standing at the gate, shooting at me with a twelve-gauge shotgun as I’m trying to drive away from there as fast as I can! She blew out the back window of my truck and missed my head by inches! And, of course, Rhonda was one of those women who promised never to get emotionally involved. Yeah, right!
JJ: (Gestures at Randall) See, Milton? Like I said, it’s not worth it. Now, I’ll admit that I never had to dodge buckshot flying through my truck but I can definitely relate to Randall’s experience. Just forget it.
Milton: I don’t know. I think I’d be willing to roll the dice if the right babe came along. What about your affair, Tim? You get shot at?
Tim: No. Sarah never found out. Thank the Lord. But I really didn’t get away with anything. I have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life.
There is a brief silence as they all look at Tim.
Randall: Well, come on, man. Give us details. I told my story.
Tim: (Looks around at all of them) It stays in this room, right? I don’t need another divorce. Scout’s honor?
They all nod.
Tim: Like I said, it was about twenty years ago. I was in a really bad rut around that time. Seemed like my whole life had hit a brick wall. Things between me and Sarah were at an all-time low. Our joke of a sex life had virtually disappeared after she had Billy a few years earlier and I was in the grip of a serious middle-age crisis. I had a shitty job managing a collection agency call center. You can’t imagine anything more depressing. I despised my life. I remember I’d be driving home from work and thinking that I had nowhere to go. Nowhere that I felt comfortable. Nowhere I’d be happy to get to. Going home to the family was no pleasure. I’d walk in the door and Sarah would expect me to gladly take over entertaining Billy while she went and locked herself in the bedroom for her personal “downtime.” We had opted for her to be a stay at home mother so by the time I showed up she was at her wit’s end from being Mommy all day. I understood that. But there was no love between us at all. I mean none. We had become more like roommates who took turns babysitting our little boy. And this had been going on since he was born! I felt horrible and I looked worse. I’ve seen pictures taken of me from around that time and I looked like a zombie. My eyes and cheeks were sunk in and I was no better off than a walking corpse. I’d look at my situation and wonder how I ended up being so damned miserable. So unfulfilled. So insignificant. As far as I was concerned Hell had turned out to be a steady paycheck, a wife, a kid and a thirty-year mortgage.
Chip: I know what you mean. I’ve been there, too. The hardest part of raising kids is dealing with your own loss of freedom. You just get pulled down into a quagmire of boring routine.
Tim: Way, way down. Well, anyway, around that time this girl named Ursula comes to work in the call center. She’s in her late twenties. She’s actually kind of plain looking but she has the sweetest voice and smile you’ve ever seen. Soon it got to be that being around her was the only thing I could look forward to. Over about three month’s time we started to realize that there’s a real attraction going on between us. But we’re both married so we figure that it won’t go past the flirting stage, right? Wrong. I walk her out to her car one night and all of a sudden we start kissing. One thing leads to another and the next thing you know we’re screwing like a couple of teenagers in the back seat of her Toyota. After that it was on and off for about six months until one night she starts talking about divorcing her husband. That’s when the warning light turned on in my head. All of a sudden I could see where this little discreet affair was headed and I knew I had to put a stop to it. Easier said than done. Man, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. She told me she loved me and I looked her right in the eye and confessed that I didn’t feel anything. Nothing. And that was the sad truth. I broke that sweet girl’s heart into a thousand pieces just because I was unhappy with my home life and I have to live with that.
Randall: At least she didn’t shoot at you.
Tim: No. She ended up quitting a few days later and I didn’t see her again. As far as I know Sarah never found out. I was always having to work overtime so my coming in late was no big deal. I’m not sure she would have given a crap if she’d found out, anyway. So long as I didn’t expect her to satisfy my sexual urges.
There is silence for a moment. Tim lets out a sigh.
Tim: There were lots of times when I didn’t think Sarah and I would last but things eventually got better between us. We sensed that we were headed down the road to divorce so we started going to a church close to our house and got some relationship counseling there. I’m glad we did. It got us talking to each other again. Now I can’t imagine my life without her. My son Billy was asking me about marriage one day and I told him that if you’re going to make a marriage last for decades then you have to expect that there will not be weeks or months but years that’ll go by when you can’t stand each other’s company. That’s a fact. No relationship is perfect. You just have to lower your head and plow through those bad years to make it last. Otherwise don’t bother getting married.
Chip: From one who’s been married for more than thirty years, I say amen to that. It’s a constant struggle, no matter who you hook up with.
Milton holds up his glass.
Milton: (Sarcastically) To the holy bondage of marriage!
They all toast.
JJ: (Suddenly pointing at the boom box) Oh, man. You have a recording of us playing that Allman Brothers song? That is incredible! Turn it up, Tim.
Tim reaches over and turns up the music. Milton picks up the whiskey bottle and refreshes everyone’s drink while they listen and nod to each other. Tim turns the music back down.
Chip: Where was that recorded?
Tim: At the Trinity Bottoms club. Summer of ‘76.
Milton: Boy, does that bring back some memories! That’s about the time we opened for Jackson Browne and we hung out with him backstage. Which reminds me…
Milton reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a joint. He looks around mischievously.
Milton: You guys want to indulge in a little mother nature? For old time’s sake?
Chip: (Slightly repulsed) Jesus, Milton! Are you still smoking that crap?
Milton: Not every day.
Tim: (Shaking his head unapprovingly) Good Lord. Keep that stuff away from me. They randomly test us at work and I don’t care to get fired because I was in the same room as a pothead.
JJ: Same here.
Chip: Any of you guys want to smoke that shit, fine. But go down to your car and do it. Don’t be firing it up in my room. I get fined if they smell cigarette smoke in here, much less grass!
Milton looks around at all of them, then at Randall. He holds it up to him.
Milton: Randall? You’re my last hope, buddy. (Gestures) These guys are wussies.
Randall: Maybe later, Rasta boy. I’m doing fine with Mr. Jack Daniels right now.
Milton shrugs and puts it back into his pocket.
Milton: Whatever. Suit yourselves.
JJ: (Looking at Milton and Randall) I can’t believe you two still toke the rope. Haven’t you outgrown that by now?
Randall: (Sneers) Oh, that’s a load of grade A bullshit, JJ. You of all people have no room to talk. None whatsoever. I don’t believe there was a day that went by when you weren’t stoned to the gills. Don’t get preachy about it now.
JJ: I’m not preaching anything at all. Excuse me if I offended your tender sensibilities. If you want to get small that’s your business. I couldn’t care less. But while we’re tossing around regrets here I’ll tell you straight out that marijuana is my big regret from those days. Without a doubt.
Randall: (Chuckles) Remember how we used to sneak around so Chip wouldn’t know we were smoking weed?
Chip: What are you talking about?
Randall: Have you forgotten about the Chip rule? That’s what we called it. No Mary Jane tolerated under any circumstances. And drinking was only allowed on our nights off. Chip, you were so serious about it that we were scared even talking about pot in front of you.
Tim: It was like having a narc in the band. You laid down the law to us when we first got together in 1972. And you meant it.
Chip: (Folds his arms) Well, probably the best thing I ever did for you guys. Kept us all focused on getting better as a group.
Milton: Yeah, I remember the Chip rule lasting until one night in Denver in 1974.
Chip: (Nods) That’s where the Devil finally slipped me a Mickey.
Randall: I remember the exact moment it happened, too. It was an after-hours party at the home of that hot waitress named Carrie. There’s about 20 people there including us and we’re all sitting in her den just jabbering away with the stereo blasting out Derek and the Dominoes. One stoner is sitting on the hearth rolling one joint after another, lighting them and passing them on around the room. Like usual, we’re abstaining under the Chip rule and we’re just handing them on to the person next to us when JJ pokes me in the side. I look at him and his eyes are huge and he points over at Chip.
JJ: It was an unbelievable sight. Chip’s toking away on a joint and he’s trying his best to inhale without coughing his head off!
They all laugh. Chip is embarrassed.
Tim: I saw it, too, and I couldn’t believe it. It was like seeing Moses fall off Mount Sinai in a drunken stupor.
Chip: It was that cute girl’s fault. Bonnie. She kept saying I was acting like an old man and telling me I needed to loosen up. The real kicker was when she said grass made her horny. Me and Amanda weren’t getting along very well at the time and I guess I caved in as an act of defiance. Or resignation to the times we were living in. Whatever the reason, I just got tired of turning it down.
Randall: Bullshit. Bonnie had her tongue in your ear. It was an act of animal lust and you know it.
Chip: (Nods) Guilty as charged, your honor. I remember thinking at first that I didn’t feel anything. I ended up driving around Denver at four in the morning in Bonnie’s huge black ’64 Cadillac totally zonked. It’s a wonder I didn’t get pulled over.
Milton: We were so happy. It was like you’d signed the Emancipation Proclamation for the rest of us. We were free to fly at last.
Tim: And it was Katy bar the door after that. The genie was out of the bottle.
Chip: I’m glad it happened when it did. It made me realize that pot really wasn’t such a big deal at all and it allowed me to quit worrying about everything so much. What was really weird was when I found out that Amanda had been a closet toker for years without me knowing about it! When I confessed to her she brought out a joint to celebrate!
Randall: She’d been living under the Chip rule, too!
JJ: Well, I kinda wish we could have kept the Chip rule. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time being stoned after that. (Looks at Randall) You’re right as rain about how I stayed high most of the time back then. After it became okay for us to smoke marijuana openly I became the world’s worst pothead. I’d get stoned before I had my first cup of coffee. Then I’d get stoned before lunch. And after. Then I’d get stoned to go to rehearsal. Then again after supper. Then before, during and after the gig. The next day I’d start the whole routine over again. Moderation wasn’t in my vocabulary. Before that night in Denver I would either practice bass or try to write songs during the day. After grass became acceptable all I’d do is sit on my sofa and space out to Pink Floyd and Yes albums. I did that for years. They say pot is harmless but that’s a huge lie. It robbed me of all my ambition, my energy, my creativity. I didn’t even think about practicing or writing anymore. I try to tell the younger guys at work who joke about how they get around the drug tests that they don’t realize how that shit drains them of their appetite to achieve. For me it was an energy parasite.
Chip: It actually made me more creative, I think. But then I wasn’t doing it every day, either.
JJ: Oh, I’d get all kinds of song ideas when I was stoned. The problem was that I’d be too wasted to pick up the guitar and work it out. Or I’d actually record the idea on my little cassette recorder. Then later I’d play it back and wonder what I thought was so great about it. Man, I could have spent my time a lot more productively.
Tim: Come on, JJ. We all did too much of one thing or another. Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?
JJ: (Shakes his head emphatically) Not in the least. These days I’ll hear a song by Elton John or Steely Dan or The Eagles from the seventies and I realize that I might have written great songs like that, too. But I’ll never know because I chose to get stoned instead of dedicating myself to my craft. It was just so much easier to drift away in a cloud of smoke than to actually apply myself to getting better at being a musician and a songwriter. I hear about classical pianists who practice three or four hours a day and I think to myself “What if I would have practiced scales for just one hour a day?” One fucking hour. It would have made me a hundred times better. I could have accomplished so much more if I had exercised one single ounce of self-discipline. But no. I chose to get wasted every chance I got. And, as a result, I wasted any chance I had.
JJ pauses and stares at the floor for a moment, then looks back up.
JJ: So there you have it. That’s my regret. If I had one thing I could go back and change about those years it would be to stay as far away from marijuana as possible. It turned me into a vegetable. In many ways I was no better than a homeless alcoholic on the street. I’m really embarrassed about it.
Tim: Having my son made me quit smoking pot. Sarah never liked it much, anyway.
Chip: Same here with my first daughter. Plus Elizabeth said she’d kill me if she caught me smoking it. And she wasn’t kidding.
JJ: I quit when I almost fell off a telephone pole in 1982 after smoking a joint on my lunch break. Scared me shitless. I knew it was time to stop.
Randall: (Snorts) Just be glad you didn’t move on to the harder shit. I had to go into rehab at one point to get off of cocaine and meth.
They all look at him, surprised.
Randall: (Holds up his hand) As God is my witness. I won’t bore you with the details but it wasn’t pretty. Pot smoking was nothing compared to that shit.
Milton: Okay, okay. I put the evil joint back in my pocket. Good grief. Sorry I brought it up. Me no smoky!
Tim: Just shows how much we’ve changed over the years. We’re no better than a bunch of stodgy old cigar-chompin’ Republicans!
Chip: (Laughs) No kidding. I get into political discussions with my daughters sometimes and I end up sounding as conservative as Ronald Reagan! And to think I was once a card-carrying member of the Students for a Democratic Society! I protested against the Vietnam War on more than one occasion and now I find myself watching FOX news, cheering on the hawks that want to nuke the terrorists into oblivion! What in the hell happened to me?
Milton: That really is strange coming from you, Chip. You used to try to tell me how socialism was the political solution to the world’s problems. I was afraid you were really a communist at heart!
Chip: (Grimaces) Don’t ever tell that to my daughters. They’d never let me live it down. I was so idealistic in those days.
JJ: I wonder what it is that makes us grow more conservative as we get older?
Chip: I think it’s just that we’ve lived long enough to see how the world really works. We start realizing that there are cultures and religions out there that don’t give a rat’s ass about world peace and harmony between peoples. It’s their way or the highway to hell. If you don’t believe in their God then you’re no better than a demon. Period. We can sit over here and hope and pray for understanding and tolerance till we’re blue in the face. But the fact is that if we were in a room with a member of the Taliban he wouldn’t blink an eye at cutting our heads off and praising his God for the opportunity. No compromise allowed. It’d be like being in a cage with a hungry lion. He’d tear you limb from limb and never give it another thought. No remorse. No conscience. Once I realized that it became clear to me that the only way to preserve any sense of security for our way of life is to be aggressive and proactive in a very violent manner against those psychopaths. Kill or be killed.
Randall: What is it they say? A liberal is someone who hasn’t been mugged yet?
Tim: I don’t agree with your argument, Chip. While it’s true that I may not be the radical I used to be, I still hang on to some semblance of liberal thought. If we don’t preserve at least some dreams of global peace aren’t we all doomed to stay in a state of war forever? Didn’t we stand up to the system back in the sixties and basically tell them that we weren’t going to tolerate the country’s imperialist attitude towards the world any more?
Chip: (Makes a disgusted face) Oh, get off your high horse, Tim. What we objected to and protested against was the selective service! We didn’t want to be told we had to go fight in the jungles of Vietnam. We were having a great time getting high with a little help from our friends and exploring free love. Therefore we absolutely rejected the notion that we had some kind of an obligation to go kill people we didn’t even know. We didn’t give a fart about our country’s imperialist attitude. In fact, it really pisses me off when I hear some guy on Public Television portraying the generation of the sixties as being more altruistic and idealistic than the generations that followed. That’s bullshit! We weren’t nearly as worried about world peace as we were about saving our own hides. The truth is we wanted the war to end so the government would leave us the hell alone!
JJ: So you’re saying that if we’d had an all-volunteer army back then that most of us wouldn’t have cared in the least if we were fighting in Southeast Asia or Tijuana.
Chip: Exactly. We were peaceniks because it was in our best interest. Plain and simple.
Randall: I have to agree. We weren’t against the war, we were against the draft.
Chip: That’s the way I see it. And I’m not saying that was right or wrong. It’s just how it was. But don’t try to tell me it was because of some kind of enlightened mass consciousness.
Tim: (Shakes his head) I still don’t agree at all. You make it sound like we were a bunch of selfish narcissists. There was a lot more going on than self-preservation. We were questioning everything, not just the draft. Vietnam was the first time we’d seen the true horrors of war right in our own living rooms and our whole generation had to step back and ask what we, as a nation, were doing over there. It was morally wrong and we had to put a stop to it. So we did.
Milton: (Sarcastically) Tim, you pinko!
Randall: I hear what you’re saying, Tim, but I still have to take Chip’s side on this. I clearly remember when I was no longer eligible for the draft but I don’t remember the fall of Saigon. Of course, that’s because I got stoned and missed it, probably. But my point is that once I was out from under the threat of being drafted I didn’t give a damn about the war anymore.
JJ: I would have protested anything that threatened to take my bass guitar and my band away from me. The whole concept of the draft is so foreign to those who grew up after us they think we made it up. It’s true! I worked in a record store for a few months after the group disbanded. I was talking to some teenage boys one day and they couldn’t believe there was ever such a thing as conscription in America. They’d say, “Let me get this straight. Once you turned eighteen years old Uncle Sam could come and physically take you away from your family, your friends, your career, or your wife even and force you to become a soldier? And if you refused they could legally put you in jail?” I’d say yes and they couldn’t believe it. They just couldn’t believe it.
Milton: It amazes me when I hear today’s kids saying that the big, bad government is invading their privacy and stomping on their rights because they think the FBI is listening in on their phone conversation about what to pick up from the store on the way home from work. You want to know what an invasion of privacy really is? Imagine being legally abducted by the military police and transported to a booby-trapped rice paddy in Southeast Asia. Try living with that hanging over your head for a few years of your life and you’ll know what government intrusion really is.
Chip: You’re right. Kids these days don’t know how frightening the draft was. They think all we had to worry about was finding out where the next “Love-In” was happening. Conscription was real. And since our parents grew up with it they didn’t think twice about it. It was your duty to God and country to go fight in the army. Each one of us had to devise some kind of plan to avoid being drafted. It wasn’t just a matter of inconvenience. It was, in many ways, a matter of life or death. So, in tying all this back to my conservative outlook again, I’m for any kind of technical innovation in warfare that eliminates the need to take some snot-nosed kid and stick him in a jungle or a desert with a rifle. I want my tax dollars to be spent on a freakin’ laser that can zap a terrorist from a satellite! If that puts me on a par with Barry Goldwater then so be it.
Tim: I’m sorry, Mister Warmonger, but I think my tax dollars would be better spent on trying to build bridges than on weapons that can blow them to kingdom come. I’m not ready to give up all dreams of a better world just yet.
Chip: And that’s what I love about you, Tim. You’ve still got flowers in your hair. God bless ya!
Randall: (Makes a peace sign) Peace, love and Hari Krishna, man!
Milton: (Claps his hands together once and points to the boom box excitedly) Listen up! My favorite part of the gig! The drum solo!
JJ: Tim, for the love of all that is decent, could you fast-forward through that?
Milton: Don’t you dare!
They all stop and listen for a moment.
Randall: Gotta hand it to you, Milton. You were a drum-beatin’ fool!
Tim: Like a freakin’ machine, dude!
Milton: (Nods slightly) Yeah, but that was a long time ago. If I tried that today I’d probably have a heart attack!
Chip: Thank the Lord for the drum solo. It was always good for a quick pee break.
Milton: Pee break? That’s a pile of crap. You guys did a lot more than just take a leak. I’d look up through the sweat dripping off my brow and see all of you back at the bar flirting with chicks and knocking down shots of booze. I didn’t get a break like that so I should have gotten paid more. Some nights it would seem like forever waiting for you guys to come back up on stage.
JJ: Oh, just listen to you. Every time we’d bring up the idea of taking the drum solo out of the set list you’d throw a fit. You loved every minute of it and you know it.
Milton: (Holds up his hands in surrender) Okay, okay. You got me. It was my time to shine every night. Drummers never get much love, you know.
Tim: Bull. You got plenty of love as I recall. Chicks drool over drummers. I’ll never know why.
Randall: All I know is that listening to this makes me realize just how good we were. And how great the music was back then.
Chip: And keep in mind that we started from scratch together. Like you said in the elevator, no one taught us how to be a rock and roll band. We had to learn on the fly.
Milton: Sometimes I wonder where the young bands of today get their start. When we were under-aged teens we could play for Friday morning sock hops and at church dances and roller rinks on the weekends. That’s where we learned our craft. All those venues are gone.
Tim: Everything about it has changed. My son says his musician friends write songs via email.
Milton: He’s right. My son does that, too. No wonder the songs on the radio these days are so crappy. There’s no personal interaction going on. Sometimes Frank will play me something he’s downloaded that he really thinks is great and I have to wonder what planet he’s from. If he’s not listening to some kind of rap crap he’s listening to something that’s distorted and completely unmelodic.
Randall: (Points at Milton) Careful, Milton. That’s what our parents thought of Jimi Hendrix.
JJ: Jesus. We’ve become our folks. And they were hoping this would happen to us!
Milton: But it’s different now. You have to admit it. At least Jimi sang. Young people are missing out on the whole experience of music these days. Now they just download a song into their Ipods and listen to it until they get tired of it and then it’s forgotten. It doesn’t mean anything to them.
Chip: That may be so. But is that so different from the way it was in the fifties and early sixties? People just bought a 45-rpm single of a song they heard on top forty radio, played it over and over and then forgot about it. Same deal.
Milton: Yeah, but that was really before our time. When the Beatles came out we didn’t just want one song, we wanted the whole album. We wanted to hear what else they had to say. We wanted to see what they looked like. Don’t you guys remember how exciting it was to bring home a new album from the record store? You’d slice the cellophane with your thumbnail and pull out the sleeve and then carefully place the LP on the turntable and crank up the volume. Then you’d sit back and take in the artwork and the pictures while you listened to songs you’d never heard before. We had a sense of exploration with it all. A sense of wonder.
Tim: You’re right about the album covers. Sometimes I’d buy an album simply because the cover was cool. CDs are too small for the artwork to catch your eye.
Milton: And now with downloading from the internet there’s no artwork at all. And that’s a real shame. But what I’m saying is that music is no longer something that kids want to explore. Not like we did, anyway. They just want the instant gratification of getting that one song that they heard somewhere. They have no interest in finding out what other kinds of music the artist might open their minds to because they don’t have a physical, literal piece of something to touch. It’s just another computer file to them.
JJ: I can still remember how thrilling it was to listen to the Beatles’ Revolver Album for the first time. It blew my mind. I heard sitars and backward guitar leads and strange noises going on. I really didn’t know what to think.
Chip: Every new album was an event for me. The Who, Genesis, Pink Floyd…
Milton: I guess we were the fortunate generation. The lucky ones.
Tim: Hey, the way I see it, everything evolves and music is no exception. Let it be. If I tried to hold this conversation with my son he’d look at me like an old mule staring at a new gate. They don’t miss what they never had.
The song playing on the boom box finishes. For a moment there is silence between them.
Milton: We need to talk about Tulsa.
Randall glares at Milton.
Randall: (Loudly) No, Goddamn it. I said we don’t ever bring that up.
Milton: I heard what you said, Randall, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to someone about it and you guys are the only ones I can do that with. I can’t keep it inside forever. Sometimes I feel like it’s going to eat me alive.
Randall: (Stands up and points at Milton emphatically) I said no.
Milton: I don’t care, motherfucker. Deal with it.
Randall: I have.
Milton: Well, I can’t.
The two of them glare at each other.
JJ: Randall, I was a part of that mess too, you know. Milton’s right. It’s time to clear the decks about that night. Once and for all.
There is another pause, then Randall waves his arms in resignation and sits back down.
Randall: (Sarcastically) Fine, then. Let’s regurgitate the whole ugly experience so JJ and Milton can feel better. But don’t expect me to participate. Makes me sick.
Tim: Maybe it would be a good thing for all of us to finally hear what really happened. I always felt like there was something mysterious about that night. Chip and I only know so much if you recall.
Milton: It’s obvious Randall doesn’t want to talk about it and he doesn’t have to. But I’ll tell you what I remember. And believe me, it’s not exactly a fragrant waltz down memory lane. (Pauses to take a drink) We were all staying at that roach motel we always stayed at when we played Tulsa because it was cheap.
JJ: The Deville.
Milton: That’s the one. When was it? 1977? I remember that it was a weeknight and we were on our way back to the motel. The Gold Key Club shut down at midnight during the week so it was kind of early for us and we talked about going to Denny’s and getting a bite to eat. Randall was driving that old Chevy Malibu he had. We passed that stripper club on the highway and there was this really hot chick out by the road with her thumb out. She was kind of frantic-looking so we stopped and let her in and she just said to drive away fast. So we did.
Chip: I remember her well because she had to sit in the front on my lap. She said something about her boyfriend being an asshole. She was seriously pissed at him, I know that.
Milton: No kidding. She was livid. She was an exotic dancer at that club and she had caught her man doing something with one of the other strippers and she had stormed out. Kept saying she was going to get back at him big time. Then she wanted to know if we wanted to party with her. She found out we were a group and said she’d always wanted to do a rock and roll band.
JJ: She was a true nymphomaniac.
Tim: What was her name?
Randall: Darlene.
Milton: (Nods) Darlene. I’ll never forget her name. Or what happened.
Milton closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Chip: Go on. It’s all starting to come back to me now. I remember she reeked of alcohol. It’s one time I regretted riding shotgun.
Milton: So we get to the motel and we all go up to the room that Randall, JJ and I were sharing. I bring out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka and she grabs the vodka and disappears into the bathroom. So we’re all waiting for her, sharing the whiskey and smoking a joint and she’s in there for a pretty good while.
Randall: We should have known something was going on in there.
Randall gets up and starts pacing anxiously around the room, occasionally stopping to look out the window.
Milton: Finally she comes staggering out and she’s obviously wasted out of her mind but she starts to strip for us. We can’t believe this is really happening. It’s like something we’d read in the Penthouse Forum. Pretty soon she’s naked as a jaybird and we’re all…
Chip: (Holds up his palm to Milton) Okay, Milton. Please. Tell us what we don’t know. There’s no need to go into details about the crazy sex. We were all there and we all took a turn with her.
Randall: Or two.
Tim: It got pretty wild, that’s for sure. We’d always wondered if that could really happen and we finally had our little groupie fantasy come true.
JJ: All of us were so wasted I’m surprised that any of us can remember much of it. The sex part’s still kinda hazy to me.
Chip: It’s not something I’m proud of in any way, shape or form. We took advantage of a woman that had some serious problems.
Randall, who has been staring out the window, turns to them.
Randall: Hey, it just happened, okay? It wasn’t like we forced her into doing anything. It was all her idea. She was really getting into the whole scene and kept saying she wished “Carl” could see what she was letting us do to her.
Milton: He’s right, Chip. She was wasted like the rest of us but she definitely knew what she was doing. The girl was seriously into it.
Tim: We know, so skip ahead in the story. I recall that, after about an hour of partying, Chip and I crawled back to our room and passed out.
Milton: Then it was just me, JJ, Randall and, of course, Darlene. The festivities go on for a while longer, then she disappears into the bathroom again.
JJ: That’s when I passed out.
Milton: I did, too.
Randall: (Resumes pacing the room) I think I must have been in better shape than you guys were. I stayed awake to make sure she was okay and that she wasn’t going to steal our wallets and guitars and disappear. She finally came out of the bathroom and climbed into bed with me. She passed right out and then I fell asleep. Around four in the morning I wake up because she’s having some kind of convulsion or something. She’s jerking around in weird spasms and it’s freaking me out. Then suddenly she stops and calms down. I checked her breathing and it seemed okay to me. I guess I fell asleep again but for some reason I woke up about twenty minutes later and I realize that she feels really cold and now she’s hardly breathing at all. I turned on the lamp next to her and I can see that she’s pale as a fucking ghost. I knew something was wrong with her so I got up and jostled Milton and JJ out of their comas.
Milton: I could tell something bad was happening because I’d never seen you freaked out like that, Randall.
JJ: Yeah. I was totally out of it but your terrified voice sobered me right up. I knew something was wrong.
Milton: I went over to her and tried to get her to wake up but she was limp as a rag doll. Her eyes were rolled up in her head. That’s never a good sign.
JJ: I went to get a wet washrag out of the bathroom and that’s when I see her stuff in the wastebasket.
Chip: What stuff?
Randall: The syringe and a foil wrapper. Seems that Darlene was shooting up smack in our bathroom before and after the party. JJ calls me and Milton in there and we just froze when we saw it. We’d never been around that crap before.
Milton: Plus she had gone through three fourths of that bottle of vodka by herself.
JJ: I figured we better get some help so I grabbed the phone to call for an ambulance.
Randall: And I stopped you.
Tim and Chip both stare at Randall.
Tim: What?
Chip: Why would you do that?
Randall: Why? I had a dozen selfish reasons. All of them seemed right at the time.
Randall stops pacing and sits back down in the chair. He is distraught. He shakes his head slowly, runs his fingers through his hair and looks down at the floor.
Randall: Good God in heaven, have mercy on my soul. How self-serving can a human being be?
Milton: (Leans forward in his chair) Randall, JJ and I went along with you. We didn’t argue about it. It’s not like you had to wrestle the phone out of JJ’s hand.
JJ: Milton’s right. None of us were thinking straight at the time. We were in a panic.
Randall: (Looks up at JJ) That’s no excuse. You wanted to call for help. I was the one who thought he knew better.
Chip: Why wouldn’t you call for help? I still don’t understand.
Randall: (Stands back up and starts pacing again) Because I was afraid. I freaked out. I was a coward who was only thinking about himself. Believe it or not, and you’re really going to think this is insane, I thought it would ruin my career as a rock star. I envisioned police and detectives converging on the room and finding our grass and her heroin. I pictured in my head these big, insinuating headlines if she died and what it would look like to the world. I had a ridiculously inflated notion of how important and admired I was at the time. I was Randall Wilkes, by God, the lead singer of Train Wreck, one of the hottest bands in the southwest and I was certain that we were all destined to be huge stars. And then in an instant I saw it all stopping dead in its tracks because some junkie stripper decides to overdose in our motel room and I panicked. I fucking panicked. So I stand there spewing out my self-centered, ego-driven point of view to Milton and JJ while Darlene slips further and further down towards death. Now you tell me. How can that not be solely my fault?
Milton: Because I was right there in the room with you, Randall. You need to remember that I agreed with you every step of the way. JJ was the only one of us who insisted on calling for help. There’s plenty of blame to go around. Why do you think I have nightmares about it?
JJ: Hey, don’t try to make me out to be some kind of hero in this story. Don’t you dare! I didn’t insist on anything. The argument against calling an ambulance made some kind of twisted sense to me, too. I became convinced that she could ruin us all.
Tim: So you’re saying that not one of you ever called for help? Now I’m almost afraid to ask, but what in the hell did you do?
Milton: I came up with a plan, that’s what.
Chip: Wait a minute. Hold on. You guys told me and Tim that her pissed off biker boyfriend showed up, pounded on your door at five o’clock in the morning, drug her out of bed and you never saw her or him again.
Randall: (Sits back down in the chair) That’s what we told you but it never happened. It was a lie we made up together.
Tim: I always wondered how the boyfriend knew where to find her.
JJ: We figured it was better to tell you two a false story than to implicate you in our little scheme. Believe me, you were better off not knowing anything.
Chip: Jesus. I’m with Tim in that you guys are starting to scare me. What in the fuck did you do with her?
Randall, Milton and JJ all look at each other.
Milton: I’ll tell them. I was the one who came up with the solution. (He takes a gulp of his drink) So we get her clothes on her and all the time we’re still trying to wake her up. But all she does is groan a little. That told us she was still alive, at least. In the meantime I send JJ out to see who might be hanging around in the parking lot. Randall and I grab her purse and the plastic bag out of the trashcan in the bathroom and wait for JJ to give us the all clear. We carry her out to the Chevy and lay her down in the back seat. We’re just praying that no one at the motel peeks out their window while we’re doing this.
JJ: It’s still about four thirty so there’s no one up and around at all.
Milton: There’s a hospital with an emergency room about two miles away so I drive there in a hurry. We pull up and there’s an ambulance in the bay unloading a stretcher so we park out on the street and watch and wait. It’s only about five minutes but it seems like hours. Finally the ambulance pulls away. I’m thinking we can just take her inside and let the nurses deal with her.
Randall: And that would have been the intelligent thing to do but I’m still worried about us being connected to the whole fiasco. I’m projecting in my mind the worst possible scenarios. Lots of questions and interrogations and bad publicity back home and what will our girlfriends say and on and on.
Chip: So, what, are you telling us that you didn’t immediately take her inside?
Randall: I thought it would be too risky so I wouldn’t let JJ or Milton do that. I talked them into leaving her lying on a bench about a hundred feet from the emergency entrance.
Randall gets up once again and paces. Chip and Tim look at each other in amazement. No one says anything for a moment.
Tim: What the fuck?
Milton: It’s all horribly true. I wish to God it wasn’t. We waited there in the car until we were sure no one was around, then I pulled up to the curb by the bench. Randall and JJ got Darlene out of the back seat and laid her out on the bench and then jumped back in the car. We left her purse there, too. I’m so paranoid in that moment I can’t even think straight so I peel out of there like some kind of maniac instead of driving normally.
JJ: I just knew someone around there had to have looked out because of the noise and gotten a description of the car. But I guess we got lucky.
Tim: I don’t believe this. So you just left her outside?
Milton: That’s the hell of it. We did just that.
JJ: I remember we stopped in an alley somewhere and threw the dope bag from the motel wastebasket in a dumpster. When we got back to the room I went down to the pay phone and called the hospital and told them they needed to check outside. I hung up before they could ask any questions. I went back up to the room and we all just sat there staring into space, lost in our own thoughts.
Randall: I kept thinking the police were going to come busting in any second.
There’s another pause as they digest this information. Randall takes a seat again.
Chip: I have to ask the obvious question. What happened to Darlene?
Milton: (Sighs heavily, then looks at Chip) She died. (Pauses) A small article about her appeared in the newspaper two mornings later. The story said a nurse found her outside on the bench after getting an anonymous tip. She died shortly after they wheeled her in. Officially it was ruled a drug overdose. The police were asking for anybody who might have seen anything suspicious to call them and report it. Said her name was Sandy Patterson but that she danced under the name of Darlene. Never saw another word about it.
JJ: While we were sitting there in the room after I came back from the pay phone we decided to tell you two the story about her boyfriend showing up in case you were ever asked about her. We saw no reason to let you know the whole truth.
Tim: Wow. I knew there was something fishy about that night because none of you would ever talk about it after that. I’d try to make some joke about Darlene but you guys would always drop it immediately.
Chip: Yeah, there was definitely a weird vibe floating between you guys for weeks after that. I just thought maybe you had a fight over her or something.
Randall: The three of us made a solemn oath to never speak of what we had done to anybody. If the police somehow managed to follow her trail back to our room we were going to stick to the story we told you two about the boyfriend. It’s all we could come up with.
There is silence for a moment. Tim looks around and tries to lighten the mood.
Tim: Hey, guys. Bad things happen. It’s all in the past now.
Milton: (Looks at Tim and shakes his head) But it’s something that never really goes away. I still have terrible nightmares about her. Or I’ll just be driving around in broad daylight and I’ll flash back to that bench outside the hospital. I can still see her blonde hair blowing over her face.
Randall: (Stands up and goes to the window) That shit happens to me, too. Out of nowhere I’ll get this vision of standing over her limp body on that bench and I’ll feel like I have this horrible sewer rat crawling around in the pit of my stomach. She was a troubled person who needed my help and I turned away.
JJ: Sometimes I’ll go months without thinking about it and then I’ll see some girl somewhere that reminds me of Darlene and I have to relive the whole thing again. It’s always there, lurking in the back of my mind.
Randall: (Still looking out the window) I just let her die.
Chip: Christ. I had no idea. I’m kinda glad I didn’t know.
Tim: Me, too. I really don’t know what to say. Or think. I guess maybe I would have done the exact same thing in your shoes. I don’t know.
There is another pause in the conversation.
Milton: It’s the worst thing I’ve ever been a part of. Or can even imagine being a part of. It’s strange. It’s almost like someone else did it. As long as the three of us never said anything about that night I could pretend that it didn’t happen at all. It’s like we got away with this inhuman crime as easily as shoplifting a Baby Ruth. We never got punished for what we did. But hardly a day goes by when I don’t look over my shoulder to see if somebody is following me. I see these shows on TV where some detective opens up what they call a cold case file and uses modern forensic techniques to track down the culprit and it scares the crap out of me. I worry that some DNA sample or something we forgot about that she had on her that night will lead the police back to us. Or some witness that saw Randall’s Chevy finally comes forward. It never really leaves me. Now maybe you can understand why I think about blowing my brains out sometimes. It’s not nostalgia, it’s guilt.
Randall: (Sits back down on the edge of his chair and faces Milton) Listen to me, Milton, you can’t do that to yourself. It was my fault that she died. Not yours. (Glances over at JJ) Or yours, either, JJ. Both of you thought we should call for help right off the bat. And it might have saved her life. Or not. We’ll never know. But if anyone is damned here, it’s me. I talked you out of making that call. I was more concerned about saving my own ass than the life of a human being who was in mortal danger. You want to live with something? Try living with that! I made a bad situation a million times worse. Sure, it would have been a mess explaining why she was there with us and why she was doing heroin in our bathroom. But it also would’ve been obvious that we didn’t intend to do her any harm and they would have let us go after a few hours of interrogation. Instead I put us in danger of being arrested for abandonment, leaving her to die alone on that bench just a few feet from the hospital door. What kind of fucking animal does that kind of thing? Me, I guess! I learned something horrible about myself that night that still makes me sick to my stomach. The only thing you two are guilty of is listening to me.
JJ: We keep tossing around words like blame and guilt but what are they really? To me they’re just puffs of air. No more than that. Now, justice. There’s an ominous concept. Justice is God walking up and down the hall outside your door. He knows. And he’s waiting. Nobody really gets away with anything. I’ll tell you what I finally did, though, and it helped. The whole thing stayed with me constantly for a long, long time until I finally went to confession at a Catholic church about fifteen years ago. I’m not even Catholic but it was driving me nuts so I drove to a town about four hours from here where I knew no one would know me. I never saw the face of the priest I talked to in the confessional. But it was a great relief to finally say it out loud to someone. I’ll never forget what happened to Darlene but at least I was able to leave behind some of the weight I was carrying on my shoulders.
Randall: You confessed, huh? What did he say to you after you told him? Wasn’t he shocked?
JJ: I think he was. He agreed that what I had done was a despicable sin. He didn’t try to whitewash it in any way. He kinda let me have it. He said it was contemptible and shameful. He told me I should pray every day and night for God to forgive me. But he also said that I had to forgive myself in order to move on and make my life productive. We’re all sinners in the eyes of the Lord, he told me. He said that from what I told him about Darlene he figured she was already speeding down the road to self-destruction and that her personal demons were probably going to bring her down soon enough whether I came across her path or not. He reminded me that the same free will that I exercised to try to avoid getting further involved with her predicament also applied to Darlene when she decided to shoot up heroin and gulp down a bottle of vodka. That there was enough fault to go around but that ultimately it was her tragic choices that led to her heart stopping.
Milton: So he told you she would have died anyway?
JJ: (Shakes his head) No, he didn’t because he didn’t know that for sure. He just reminded me that life isn’t black and white. There are mostly gray areas between right and wrong and that God takes everything into consideration before he judges. In other words, the Lord knows this wasn’t a case of premeditated murder. It was a case of negligence. It was a case of some foolish young men who allowed themselves to walk into the throes of iniquity with open eyes and then panicked when evil closed its fist on them. Anyway, ever since then I’ve been able to move on without nearly as much guilt. But I’ll never forget what went down that night.
Randall: A priest, huh? Maybe we should try that, Milton. I guess I figured God would strike me down on the front steps if I tried to walk into a church. I might have to try that myself. It couldn’t hurt. When I think about Darlene I think how she might have turned her life around by now. That no matter how far down she might have sunk she was still some mother’s baby and her life meant something to someone. But I couldn’t be bothered to make a phone call. Or to let anyone else make one.
There is another pause of uneasy silence.
Tim: I had no idea. But Milton and Randall, you guys need to listen to JJ on this. No matter what happened, what’s done is done. We all have remorse and regrets in our lives but there’s nothing you can do to change things that happened in 1977. Especially in this case. The bottom line is that Darlene killed herself and you may or may not have been able to do anything to stop her.
Chip: Tim’s right. I’m not fatalistic but if you trace things back far enough you can even blame me for it.
Milton: You? How in the hell do you figure that?
Chip: Well, the way I see it a lot of decisions being made differently could have changed the course of our lives but I can think of one really big one. (He points at Milton) Remember in 1975 when you begged us to pack up everything we owned and move out to Los Angeles? You tried to convince us that the only way we would ever be discovered was to go where discovering was being done?
Milton: Yeah.
Chip: And everyone was for it until I put my big foot down and refused to even consider it? The truth was that I was scared of losing Amanda because I knew she would never leave her family behind and move out there. But I could never have admitted that to you guys. So I argued that our best chance of making it was by staying right here in town and building up a huge following that the record companies wouldn’t be able to ignore. What a bunch of bullshit! The fact of the matter is I didn’t have the balls to risk everything. You talk about regrets! I have to live the rest of my life wondering what could have been if we had gone to Hollywood or New York and given it our best shot while we were still young and hungry. The irony is, despite my cowardice, I ended up losing Amanda anyway. And now I’ll never know what might have been. I know a lot of bands moved out there or up to Nashville and ended up failing anyway, but at least those guys know in their hearts that they tried.
Milton: I hear what you’re saying. I wish you would’ve listened to me for that very reason. But what’s that got to do with what happened in Tulsa?
Chip: Simple. If we had moved to California we would never have been in Tulsa that night at all.
Randall: (Waves him off) That’s ridiculous.
Chip: Is it? Can’t you think of a million roads we went down at one time or another that led to us picking up Darlene that night? Any one of us could have kept us from intersecting with her on that highway just by wanting to stop at a 7-11! Another five minutes and Darlene wouldn’t have been there. I admit that I’m shocked beyond belief at what I’ve learned today but that’s just a natural reaction. What it wasn’t was a homicide. It wasn’t an assault. You weren’t thinking straight. You guys did what you thought was best at the time and it turned out horribly. It was a mistake but it’s okay. Beating yourselves up over it decades later serves no purpose whatsoever. It’s ancient history.
Tim: And we still have each other. We lived through tragedies and heartaches and misunderstandings and betrayals but we’re still brothers. That’s important to remember. With us all is forgiven. We may not see each other very often but the bond between us will always exist. We’ll always be there for each other.
Milton: Good. Because I really needed to unload some serious baggage about that night in Tulsa. (Looks over at Randall) I’m sorry I brought it up, Randall, but I felt like I had to. It helps to know that it still bothers you and JJ, too. It was eating me alive.
Randall: I’m glad you forced me to talk about it. I haven’t been dealing with Darlene’s ghost in a healthy way. I just kept throwing dirt on her grave, trying to cover it up. I thought as long as it was a secret somehow that made it not real. But it really did happen and it’s a relief to know you guys don’t hold it against me. I sometimes think my biggest transgression was that I let you boys down all those years ago. Finding out that you’ve forgiven me is what I needed to hear more than anything else. Thank you all.
JJ: Good Lord. Now you’re really freaking me out. Thank you? Please, Randall. That’s so unnecessary.
Milton: And gay.
Randall: (Flips him off) Fuck you, Milton. I was having a serious moment of clarity and you pissed all over it. You’re an asshole, you know that?
Milton: So sue me.
Chip: (Shaking his head) Milton, you haven’t changed a bit. Still the king of horrible timing.
Tim: So… you guys okay about things now?
They all nod.
Tim: Good. This sad chapter of our history continues to stay just between us forever. Can we agree to leave it behind and never ever bring it up again? Make it a sacred Train Wreck secret?
Milton holds up his drink and they clink their glasses together in agreement. Chip glances at his watch.
Chip: Anyone famished like me? It’s already seven o’clock and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I have a great idea, too.
Randall: Let’s hear it.
Chip: Allow me to treat all of you to a top of the line dinner at Daniel’s Texas Rose steak house around the corner. Their surf and turf is legendary.
JJ: Are you shitting me? Chip, that place is really expensive. I couldn’t afford a glass of wine in there.
Chip: That may be but it’s not being financed out of my pocket. My company will gladly pick up the tab. Keep in mind that I’m here for a convention. You four just happen to be executives with TW Incorporated and I’m just doing a little business with a potential client. A legitimate deduction if I’ve ever seen one! And, by God, we fucking deserve it. Everyone game?
Milton: Hell, yeah! Let’s go!
Randall: You don’t have to ask me twice.
They all finish their drinks and stand.
Tim: Chip, you really have changed over the years. You used to be the biggest skinflint I’ve ever known.
Chip: I was not.
JJ: Were, too.
Chip: No way.
Milton opens the door and they head out.
Randall: Oh, yes you were. Remember when we used to go to Austin or Norman and you’d make us all ride in the back of a U-Haul truck with the equipment so we wouldn’t have to take your car? It’s still a miracle that we didn’t die of carbon monoxide poisoning.
Chip: Wait a minute. You can’t blame me for that. That wasn’t my idea!
JJ, Tim, Randall and Milton: (Together) Oh, yeah, it was!
The door closes behind them.
The End
rollieanderson 