Eat your Heart out, Laurie L.!, chapter 1
There we were... Billie Joe (in a t-shirt and boxers), Mike (with his clothes inside out), and Tré (who was wearing Billie's clothes, unlike the dress he was wearing earlier) on one bench, Mick (his hair very messy), Greg (with a magic-marker mustache on his face), and I (tank top and shorts with a tie around my head) on the opposite one. All of us, sitting in a police station. Sure, we got busted (we sort of knew THAT was going to happen), but we all had satisfied looks on our faces. Several months ago, I NEVER would've even dreamt this would happen.
Confused yet? Ok, I'll back up a little then...
The exact date was August 29, 2009, a day before my first day of 12th grade. Of course, I was pretty pissed off about summer vacation ending, so I decided to rot away more of my brain on the internet. First, I went on GeekStinkBreath.net, like I always do. It's my favorite website, REALLY great website by the way, but the whole "made-up story" section is uber weird. Some people really need to get a life, if you ask me. Then, I saw the headline of that day: "BIG GREEN DAY CONTEST! GO TO OFFICIAL SITE FOR DETAILS!" I've always entered online Green Day contests, in hopes of winning something related to my all-time beloved band. But, I never won anything, so I almost didn't bother finding out more.
But, I did. Going over to GreenDay.com, I saw the same headline, along with more information for the contest that would change my life (I just didn't know it yet):
"Green Day is about to go on tour, as you most likely already know, and they've announced a contest. They are going to bring three small town bands with them on tour! Your band can be from anywhere in the U.S., as long as you're not signed to a label. At the end of the tour, Billie Joe will pick one of the bands to sign on to Adeline Records! For sign-up info, click here!"
A grin spread across my face for the first time that day. You see, I was in a band, Resident Fantasy, with my two best friends, Mick and Greg. Mick played bass and Greg on drums. Actually, Mick was SUPPOSED to sing, but I ended up singing along with playing guitar. I never understood that.
"Why do I have to sing?" I had asked him. "You're much better than me. And I'm not that attractive, so it can't even be for the sex-appeal of the band..." He never did tell me his reasoning.
Anyway, it had been our dream to be signed to Adeline. I can still remember a few years ago when it was only an independent label. Nowadays, it's major, and EVERYONE wanted to be on it.
So, I clicked the link. It gave me all the boring rules, like you must be a legal U.S. citizen, blah, blah, blah, not responsible for any damage...ok, I get it. If I'm suddenly decapitated on the tour, my parents can't sue.
As my excitement grew, I read the requirements: The band must have at least one guitarist, one bassist, one drummer, and one singer - anyone on an instrument can sing - any other instruments are accepted too -check #1 / Must not be signed to a record company - check #2 / Must send in a CD or tape with three of their songs on it - can do. My uncle is a DJ and has a recording studio and knows all about editing and stuff. Piece o' cake.
My hands almost trembling with excitement, I grabbed my cell phone and called Mick.
"Hey, what's up?" he said.
"MICK!" I suddenly screamed. "WE HAVE TO ENTER THIS CONTEST!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he replied, a little annoyed. "God damn it, Clair, I think you broke my ear drum."
"Sorry," I said quickly, "but listen..." I explained the whole thing to him, and he seemed not overjoyed.
"C'mon, C.," Mick sighed. "There's no way we'll win that. I mean, we're from Pennsylvania. No one gives a shit about us." (I don't know what made him think there's something wrong with our state, but, whatever)
"Exactly," I started, "they want small town bands. Band that are, like, from shitty towns who KNOW what it's like to live in a shitty town, not the ones who pretend they do."
"I don't know..." he said.
"PLEASE!" I practically begged.
"Ok, ok..." he caved. "I'll call Greg and tell him about it. Sign us up."
"I love you, dude!" I yelled. "Uh...that's a platonic love; don't get too excited."
"Not if it's you," he joked, hanging up.
I closed my phone and calmed down a little. Although what I said was true, about the small towns and stuff, there was (clearly) a small chance that we'd win. I mean, we WEREN'T anywhere near the greatest band ever (obviously, that's Green Day, but you get my point). But, in my oh-so humble opinion, we could always hold the audience and rock their fucking socks off. And I think that matters a lot.
So, I filled out the form to enter the contest and emailed it in. A few seconds later, an auto-response email came back.
"Thank you for entering. The winners will be announced on GreenDay.com on October 1st. Good luck!"
Yeah, that's good...if we somehow won, we'd miss out on most of school. Ok, ME, I should say, since I was the only one still in school. Greg was 19 and Mick was 21. I was just 17 years old, 18 in May. But, it's all good anyway.
The next day was...school. Yippee (psych). Actually, I really don't remember much that happened. It was like I was on auto-pilot, just hovering aimlessly from class to class...Near the end of September, I even forgot we'd entered the Green Day contest or sent in our three songs (called "No Way Out, "Freak", and "Is it Worth It?" if you were wondering). Oh, they all kick ass, by the way.
The day was September 26th, and I had to go online to do some retarded research for a French project, when I saw I had an email. Mindlessly, I opened it up. Big red letters greeted me:
CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR BAND WON!!!
At first, I though it was just a joke from one of my friends; I told all of them how Resident Fantasy entered the contest, and they all had a good laugh about it. Maybe they'd like to pull a prank on me. But...the email address was from GreenDay.com! In utter shock, I scrolled down:
"Your band, Resident Fantasy, is one of the three bands selected to go on tour with Green Day. You were selected by the band themselves, out of over 500,000 entries. But first, we need you to confirm you win, as will your band mates who have also received this email. Since you are under the age of 18, you must have a parent or guardian send us an email (from the link below) giving you permission. They must reply by September 30. When they do, instantly they will receive another email with more information. Hope to see you soon!"
Still in disbelief, I re-read the email five times. I was paralyzed with excitement. Really, you probably have NO idea what that felt like. It was like an interesting combination of stress, fear, excitement, jubilation, and indigestion. A zillion thoughts were buzzing in my head - What should I bring? What clothes should I wear? How long is the tour? Where does it start? How...
I snapped back into reality when my cell rang; it was Greg.
"Let me guess," I said slowly, "you got the email."
"Hell yeah, I did!" Greg exclaimed. "Oh my fucking God...we're going on tour with Green Day!!!"
"I know I can't even believe it!" I shrieked. Wow, I actually SHRIEKED. I usually don't do that. "Sorry, but I got to go. I have to get my parents to send an email saying I can go."
"They're going to say 'yes', right?" Greg asked, a little uncertain.
I thought about that for a moment. Technically, I never told them about the contest since I was so sure we wouldn't win. But, I assumed they'd be cool with it. They've let me do tons of stuff on my own. I'd just tell them this is a once in a life time opportunity; I'd be safe, nothing to worry about, yada, yada.
"Of course they'll say yes," I said.
***
"Absolutely not!" my mom said forcefully. End of discussion. Ok, not really. I tried to convince them for hours. They wouldn't budge. Why? They are purely demonic and are good friends with Satan and several antichrists. I'll save you from the boring details of the next couple of days, which included a lot of door slamming, cold shoulders, and foot stomping on my part.
Suddenly, it was September 29th, and I locked myself in my room. Headphones on, I listened to every Green Day album over and over again, a steady stream of tears running down my face. Yes, I cried. I know, shocking, right? Trust me, you'd be crying too. To be exact, at the moment in question I was listening to Kerplunk!. I flipped through the lyric book unconsciously and stopped at "My Adventure with Green Day". That story is SO funny. Personally, it's my favorite short story, next to "The Birds" and "Cask of the Amontillado" (don't ask, I'll just tell you that I'm a bookworm). It made me think, "Maybe I could kill MY parents so I can go on tour with Green Day." Of course, I could never do that...I mean, kill my parents and send that email myself; really, I...wait a second...DUH!
I should just send the fucking email myself! My parents had horrible memories and wrote down their passwords everywhere. I knew them by heart. No computer hacking skills required (or Bo staff skills, or num chuck skills). Jeez, your brain doesn't work very well when you're miserable, huh? (Or "eh?" if you're Canadian)
It was around 10:00 p.m. when I crept upstairs. And my parents were asleep already, surprisingly. The rest was easy. I was done in ten minutes. Not a sound. So, according to the email that came back, whoever worked with Green Day would contact my high school and excuse me. That made me HAPPY. No school AND touring with Green Day. Life is good. Also, Resident Fantasy would need to meet up with Green Day in Oakland, CA, where the tour would start, on October 3rd.
All I had to do was secretly pack my stuff and wait until then.
***
Mick and Greg showed up at my house in Greg's pick-up truck at 11:00p.m. on October 2nd. We knew it would take us a while to get to Oakland (even by plane), and I had to leave without my parents knowing.
I left my cell phone (so my parental units couldn't call me), grabbed my bags, and took my dad's guitar (it was much better than mine). And I left a cute note for them, which went something a little something like this: "Dear Family: I'm going on tour with my band, two bands I've never met, and a band of guys who are about 20 years older than me. You can't stop me, obviously. Don't wait up. Love: Clair." I was SO going to be dead. But, I'm going to meet Green Day, and meeting them is one of the things I have to do before I die, so...it's all good.
The flight was ok. We got some strange glances from people in suits, but who cares?
"We have our tickets, sir. No, we're not carrying any explosives, let us one the damn plane. Thank you, and have a nice day."
Just as we suspected, the flight was exceptionally long.
"This is going to be great!" Mick said to me as Greg snored loudly. He was a sound sleeper, which you'll find out about later. Mick decided not to sleep; whenever he sleeps anywhere, he gets major bed head.
"I know," I agreed. "I hope I don't, like, faint or wet myself when we meet them."
"But if you do both at the same time, that would be a funny trick," he joked around. Hours passed, I dozed off once or twice but couldn't get a restful sleep, not knowing I was about to have the most exciting adventure of my life.
At least there were enough packets of peanuts on the plane to keep my satisfied. There are actually directions on those bags, you know?
1. Open bag.
2. Place peanut(s) in mouth.
3. Chew and swallow .
4. Repeat if necessary.
Then we were finally there. I knew that my parents found my note by then and were considering calling the S.W.A.T. team, the National Guard, and the Mexican Army to come get me. (Trust me, they had them all on speed-dial, just because of me)
We only had carry-on bags and our instruments (except Greg's drums, which were sent FedEx), so we grabbed them after several attempts to wake up Greg. Personally, lack of sleep didn't affect me. After a few bottles of Mountain Dew, I'd be good.
After very little searching in the airport terminal, we saw a short, old man, sharply dressed, holding a sign that said "RESIDENT FANTASY".
"Hello, everyone," the old guy said to us as we approached him, "Enjoyed your flight?"
"Yes, sir!" Mick answered.
"Good, let's get going, shall we?" he guy said. "Follow me." And we did, of course. We followed him right to the limo outside the airport. I couldn't help but smile at Mick and Greg.
Ok, skipping the boring details of driving to the hotel we were staying at. Ok, now we're there. (Isn't the magic of writing amazing?)
It was certainly taller than any hotel in Levittown, PA. It almost hurt my neck to look up that far. Still following the elderly gentleman, we carted our stuff through the lobby, into the elevator, and down a hall on the 10th floor. The guy stopped in front of room J270. He handed me the card-key for the room.
"Your fellow bands are in there too. Your hosts will be up shortly." By "hosts" he meant Green Day, which almost made me jump for joy. The guy departed and we were left to stare blankly at the door.
Finally, I said, "Well, let's meet our competition." And, we entered the room. It was a huge room, like four times the size of my living room. As the guy said, there were two groups of people there.
"Hi," one of them said shortly. Uh oh, another boring part. Intros. Well, we introduced ourselves:
Clair Blackwood, age: 17, hair color: blue (yes...BLUE. I get a lot of stares from all the gangstas who live in my area) eye color: blue-green, height: 5' 5"
Mick Simons, age: 21, hair color: brown, blonde at the Mohawk, eye color: brown, height: 6' 2"
Greg Salzmann, age: 19, hair color: blonde, eye color: blue, height: 5' 6.5"
The first band:
Lead singer: Josh Bangle, age: 20, hair: shaved bald, eye color: brown, height: 4' 10"
Guitar: Jay Smith, age: 25, hair color: red, eye color: green, height: 4' 7"
Drums: Dex Teey, age: 23, hair color: black dreadlocks, eye color: brown, height: 6' 1"
Bass: Ben Kenyan: age: 20, hair color: red and black, eye color: light brown, height: 5' 5"
This band was called El Kabong.
The second band:
Bass/singer: Harry Rondo, age: 27, hair color: black, eye color: blue, height: 5' 7"
Guitar: Sammy Marten, age: 25, hair color: brown, eye color: dark blue, height: 5' 6.5"
Drums: Larry Chambers, age: 19, hair color: silver-ish, eye color: red/brown, height: 5' 3"
This band was called Triple Shot.
Ok, now that's over, I can complain how I WAS THE ONLY GIRL THERE!!!
... Ugh...oh well. So, we sat with them, and we all made small talk - like where they were from (El Kabong was from Idaho and Triple Shot was from somewhere in Colorado) - what kind of instruments they liked to use (I like Les Pauls, personally) - blah, blah, and more blah. Ok, we talked with them, but...uhh, they were really stuck up and rude. Eck, not a way to start off with me, just ask any other snooty person I've been around (they're currently breathing through a tube).
About 15 minuets passed by, when we heard the door being unlocked. We all stood up because we had a good idea who was there... Yep, Green Day walked through the door: Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool, of course! Let's see, how would I describe them...?
Uh...godly?
Yeah, that's a good word for it.
On the outside, I tried to look nonchalant and composed, but on the inside I was screaming and jumping around like those cheerleaders I hate so much. (Yes, all cheerleaders must vanish off the face of the Earth, sorry to tell you)
"Hey everyone," Billie Joe said, that voice I've heard a zillion times, which almost made me act like the Wicked Witch of the West when she gets water dumped on her (melting, I mean). "Congratulations. I hope you all made it here without any trouble."
All of a sudden, my goofy and witty side took over and I said matter-of-factly, "Yeah, well, once we knocked out the security guards and crawled through the ventilation ducts, everything was fine." That made everyone laugh - yes, Green Day ACTUALLY laughed at my corny-ass joke. Oooh, I'm good.
"Anyway," Mike started to say. "We're going to take you all out for some lunch so we can get to know you all."
"And, we're hungry, duh," Tré said. Again, I smiled because I still couldn't believe I was really there.
***
Since all that really happened when we were driving to the diner was...uh...us driving to the diner, I'll tell you what my parents are doing (it's highly entertaining).
"This is your entire fault, you know?" my mom screamed at my dad.
"How is this MY fault?" he complained.
"You should have never told her all those stories about when you were in a band. You put crazy ideas in her head!"
"Look," he said calmly, "she's almost 18; she can take care of herself. Plus, there's bound to be body guards or something there. There's nothing to worry about."
Mom stated crying. "But something COULD happen to Clair," she sobbed. "What if she gets...drunk or...in trouble or something?"
Ah, good old Mom...God, I hate it when she's right.
***
Where were we...oh yeah: lunch! Mmmm...food...I had fajitas because I LOVE how they set them on fire. Actually, I think I said to the waiter, "I'll have the steak fajitas. And be sure to set them ablaze, my good man." Everyone laughed again. Strangers tend to laugh at my jokes more than people I know, just because they aren't used to me, then you expect me to say something goofy and/or random, so it's not as funny.
And, I drank Mountain Dew, which makes me loopier than I usually am. El Kabong and Triple Shot were...how should I say this...not loopy...more like...rude much. But, in the end, that might have helped Resident Fantasy out a little.
"So, how long have you all been bands?" Billie asked.
"We've been together about 7 years," Harry Rondo, from Triple Shot, said.
"We started, maybe 5 or 6 years ago," Dex Teey, from El Kabong, said.
"Well," Mick started, now knowing we were about to be the underdogs, "Resident Fantasy has been around for 2 years." Billie Joe just nodded, but he might have made a mental note that we were the least experienced. Which, technically is true, but I think we had WAY more heart and energy than the others. But, then a question came in our favor.
"How long have you guys known how to play your instruments?" Mike asked. According to their responses, the guys from El Kabong had been playing for 7 years. Triple Shot had BEEN a band for 7 years, but really learned how to play 6 years before (don't ask me HOW they managed that).
"How about you, Mick?" Mike asked.
"I've been playing bass since I was 10, so 11 years," Mick said.
"And Greg?" Mike continued, a little impressed.
"I also started to learn drums when I was 10, or 9 years now," Greg announced.
"What about you, Clair?" he asked me.
"Uh... " I began, as I tried to recall exactly when I started learning to play guitar, "My dad started teaching me when I was like 5 or 6 years old...so...11 or 12 years, I think."
"Great!" Mike said. Score boards: Other two poser bands: 0 / Resident Fantasy: 1
The questions went on like that, except Tré's question to me, which was, "So, are you single or what?" to which I couldn't answer because I was blushing so much. You see, this is what happens when you're the only girl there!!!
Sorry, but this IS sort of the boring part of the story, but trust me it gets better. Excitement will be on the way.
So, after our uber cool meal, we went back to our uber cool hotel to get our stuff ready for our first show! I didn't know we'd have to perform the first the first day. I think Billie saw that kind of look on our faces.
"I know it's short notice," he said. "But everything will be fine. We have everything you'll need."
"Like Pepto?" I groaned, holding my ever-knotting stomach.
Ok, fast forward to backstage at the stadium. There were, like 20 people waiting on everyone hand and foot, which is pretty neat. I'm sure if you're a really famous band like Green Day, you get used to that.
"Everyone into wardrobe!" said a tour manager. There was a huge dressing room, much like the one in "Bullet in a Bible". You know, the part where Billie pulled his pants down and showed off his ass? Whenever I'd watch that with my friend, Bri, she'd always pause the DVD for a moment or two (which is why I happen to remember it) But, that's my friend for you. Any-who...
And, my outfit was awesome by the way. Just to let you know, I was the only girl in my school bold enough to wear a tie (and not be a poser). And, at the moment in question, I was wearing a tubular black and white striped tie (with a dress shirt and a black peasant skirt, by the way), much like the tie Tré wore during the American Idiot era. He noticed that, grabbed me by my tie, looked my right in the eyes and said, "Great tie, but you stole it from me." He said this is a mock-angry tone.
It was kind of awkward because he was really close to me and...well, I have a crush on him (who doesn't? It only makes sense because he's the only member of Green Day who's single. And he's cute. And he's incredibly horny. Just saying, that turns some people on, like me).
After we all got dressed and beauty-fied (which included but wasn't limited to: hair, make-up, blah, blah, and...yes...more blah)
By then, I was SO fucking nervous. I really thought I was going to barf. That's why I just stared at my checker board shoes forever and cradled my dad's Les Paul in my arms. I know...NOT the coolest thing to do, just standing there and shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Everyone else was chatting, joking, and drinking, even Greg, who obviously was too young. Outside, I could hear the audience, their noise pulsing through my ears and giving me a small headache. This also made me nervous. Back in Levittown, we were known, and the crowd would forgive us if we screwed up something. Here, no one knew us. We were at their mercy, and that terrified me.
About 20 minutes before the show (El Kabong was up first), I was still (you guessed it) frightened out of my mind. At one point, Tré came over to me, (which didn't make me any calmer) and asked, "So, you ready?"
"Well," I started, not really looking at him, "if by 'excited' you mean 'feels like I am going to be violently sick', then yes, I'm excited." It was the blunt, sarcastic way I said it that made it funny. Tré just laughed and tapped me on the butt (left cheek to be exact), which almost made me yelp. Oh, so he's hitting on me...? SWEET!!! (And I'm ignoring the fact that he's twenty years older than me which makes that a little creepy...and possibly illegal)
Anyway, the dudes from El Kabong were on and, in the short amount of time they were drinking, they were so pissed. I think their music would have sucked even if they WEREN'T flat-ass drunk, but you get the picture. They played five songs, that all contained the same three chords (A, E, and G, maybe a few F's and C's thrown in once or twice). So, pretty lame writing, if you ask me. Snores-ville, U.S.A.
Then, Triple Shot went on. They were ok, but they did these long, shitty guitar solos. Personally, I think solos are so lame - we in Resident Evil always mad sure we highlighted everyone's part. They played four songs, which were all about girls, sex, and drugs. I could see on Billie, Mike, and Tré's faces that they weren't enjoying them all that much either. I think I even heard Billie say under his breath, "Jesus, they suck!" about El Kabong.
Then, oh my God, we were up! We stood in the wing, waiting for what seemed and eternity and a half. A stage manager dude gave us the thumbs up to head out. Right before we stormed onto the stage, Billie whispered in my ear, "You guys are going to fucking rule! Good luck!"
Just him saying that...I felt like I was going to start floating through the air
Well, how'd it go? Uh, we fucking ruled, just like Billie Joe said we would. The audience was with us all the way (to some extent, surprising to me). And, I couldn't see them, but I could sense Green Day back stage, cheering us on. And I could sense El Kabong and Triple Shot shitting their pants. The songs we played were the three we mailed in, plus two other ones, and a cover of this song by Butch Walker. It's called "Lights Out", and it's a great song to get the audience pumped. I'll show you how by what I said.
"Ok!" I bellowed into the microphone. "Now we're gonna do a song called 'Lights Out'. Now, I'm going to need your help with this one, alright? Now, all you have to do is repeat two things. When I say, 'Hell yeah!' you scream 'Hell yeah!'. When I say 'Yeah dog!', you scream 'Yeah dog!' Got it?"
Here's a little of how the song went, the chorus
"Can I get a hell yeah (Hell yeah!) if you're as lost as I am / Yeah dog (Yeah dog!) if you hate the expression / Talking all over has become my profession / Since you put the lights out in my heart"
So, all the audience was screaming "Hell yeah!" and "Yeah dog", and it was amazing!
When we finished...ah, the applause, pleasurable and deafening all at once. It's a good sound. Mick ran up to the front of the stage and did an awesome stage dive! I busted out laughing as a bouncer struggled to get him safely back onto the stage. It was probably very hard since Mick is so tall. Slowly, we walked off stage, the applause, the surroundings, melting away...because all I could see was Billie, Mike, and Tré, and the elated looks on their faces. And that was better than anything in the world. More than all the money, chocolate, and puppies in the universe. Really...seriously, I know what I'm talking about here.
Then, I was able to just relax and watch Green Day play. Of course, they rocked - would you expect anything less? I even got to hand Billie Joe his guitars when they changed to a song that was tuned differently (if you don't know much about guitars, that won't make much sense. Just go with me here, people). It was just amazing. I mean, so amazing, that the word "amazing" doesn't even come close to describing a fraction of a decimal of a percent of what it was.
Near the end of the set, Billie began to introduce Green Day, like he always does. Then, he bought up the obvious fact that three other bands were before them.
"At this time," he said, that big, booming voice, so sweet yet harsh all at once, "we want to introduce the crazy dudes from El Kabong!" That was their cue to walk (stumble, because of being so drunk) out on the stage and say their names and stuff. The crowd cheered, sort of. "And now, give it up for Triple Shot!" so, they walked out and said some very unintelligent things that may or may not have been meant to be jokes that no one understood. There was a slow applause.
"And of course," Billie began again, "let's not forget the awesome members of Resident Fantasy!" We walked out and an abrupt burst of cheers greeted us. Greg went first.
"Wuzzup, ya'll?!?" he screamed into the microphone. "I'm Greg Salzmann. Remember that name. You'll be screaming it later." Even though that saying has showed up on a bunch of t-shirts and key chains, it was still funny.
"Mick's my name..." Mick started. "If you don't like it...uh...oh, this is the part where I'm supposed to say something amusing..." He put his finger to his chin in a thinking manner, which got a few laughs. "Uh...my name is Mick, and if you don't like it...uh...go fuck your mom!" Ok, not the best, but effective. Next, I had to say something.
"Hi, people," I said in a mock-perky tone. "My name is Clair Black. And, why am I here? Well, c'mon, I heard there was free food! But, really, I got here by hacking into my parent's email account, stealing my dad's guitar, and sneaking out of Pennsylvania! Why? I'm a flippin' rebel, damn it!" All those who love Napoleon Dynamite, say "I"! So, we left the stage and Green Day played a few more songs before finishing off with the classic "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)". How could you NOT end a show with that song?
Then, it was over, and we were all looking forward to doing it again and again at every show of the tour...
"You guys should go crash for the night," Mike said to El Kabong and Triple Shot. "You all look beat." They didn't protest, and left right away. I started to wonder why me, Mick, and Greg weren't asked to leave (and let Green Day do their...uh...Green Day thing, which I guess is whatever super rock stars do), but then Mike said, relieved, "Finally, we got them the fuck out of here!" Mick gave him a questioning look. "You didn't notice how awful and rude those guys were?"
"Yeah," Billie Joe added. "Weren't not going to party with those shit-heads."
"Party?" I thought to myself with a grin. "SWEET-NESS!!"
***
Ok, back to my parents, an hour later, 8 p.m. in California, so it was like midnight in PA. And my parents were up.
"Hold on, I'm almost through," my dad said to my tear-stained face mom. He was on the phone. "Yes, hello? Hi, I'm Will Blackwood, Clair Blackwood's father, she's in Resident Fantasy...uh...ohm...yes...yes! Can I talk to her?"
***
Like I said, it was an hour later, and we were all REALLY drunk. At first, I wasn't sure if I should drink (I mean, I pay attention in health class, and I enjoy having a fully-functioning liver). But, I knew this wasn't like parties held by people at school, just peer pressuring you to drink. Here, it was rock stars, not people who are popular now but will end up working at McDonald's the rest of their lives. So, well, I thought about it for a moment and a half, and then said to myself, "What the hell?"
Right, so, REALLY drunk. We had the radio playing, eating chips and pretzels and stuff (they ended up all over the floor), joking around and laughing.
"Then I said..." Greg began, taking another shot. "If you don't like it, shove it up your ass!" Everyone cracked up, not because it was THAT funny...you know, alcohol tends to make everything quite droll.
"You said that to your English teacher?" Billie asked through laughter.
"I thought your book report was great and deserved and A+!" I announced. "Who knew you couldn't write a book report about the swim-suit issue of Sports Illustrated?"
"Hey, I'll be back in a sec, ok?" Tré said, heading out of the lounge room back stage. No one really noticed that he left (trust me, we noticed when he came back...but, we're not there yet, be patient). We were all just chilling, and I was SO happy, but then...
One of the tour guys came in with a phone in hand. "Excuse me...uh, Clair? Phone call." The guy handed me the phone.
"Hi?" I said, my voice pretty slurred. "Uh, who dis tis?" I think I meant "Who is this?"
"Clair?" said my dad. "Clair, is that you?"
"Oh, hi dads!" I cheered. "Hower youg?" Translation: "Oh, hi dad. How are you?"
"Clair, you sound horrible," my dad cried. "Clair, do you know how worried we are?"
"Probzley verbby," I attempted to stumble out. Translation: "Probably very."
"Why did you just leave us like that?" Dad almost yelled.
"Cuz you guys wongent letme go, dats zie!" I moaned. That is loosely interpreted as "Because you wouldn't let me go, that's why!"
"Oh my God, are you drunk?" he screamed over the phone.
"No, ud corsh noth." I laughed. "No, of course not," is what I might have meant. "Look, dad, I'm oday. Reetly. I'z be back inza while." "Look, dad, I'm ok. Really. I'll be back in a while." I concluded, hanging up.
"Who was that?" Billie Joe asked me.
"My dad," I sighed, slumping in my seat. Enough said. But, then I looked at the empty seat where a certain drummer was sitting. "Yo, where's Tré?" That's when everyone noticed he wasn't there.
"I'll go find him," Mike said, stumbling out of the room.
I looked at my watch. It was 9 something. Since I was so used to Eastern Time, it felt much later. I was completely and absolutely tired. But then, I was fully awake when Tré entered the room. First, we heard Mike laughing as he was walking down the hall. Then we all were laughing when we saw Tré, who had changed into drag. Why? Well, he's drunk and he likes to, I guess. He was wearing a (slightly unappealing) pink dress with fishnets, tall black boots, pink lipstick, and a messy blonde wig. It was the most side-splitting thing that I'd ever seen. He kind of swaggered in, which made everyone chortle harder.
He came over to me and sat on my lap, which I wasn't expecting. In a really funny voice he said, "What's up, girlfriend?". Then, he gave me a big smackeroo right on the lips. Everyone was still giggling, not realizing "hey, he's 20 years older than me...creepy much?" Honestly, it was slightly awkward, only because he was wearing lipstick. But, I can't say I didn't kiss him back. It was only when his hand started moving further and further up my skirt that I had to push him away.
Well, after that, we all decided to walk around town. We didn't tell anyone of the tour people, we just left. It was cool, walking around, goofing on people. All the way, Tré put his arm around my waist, whispering stupid stuff to me. Billie and Mike were pointing out all these places that they played at when they were younger.
At one point, Tré said to me, "You guys are going to win, you know?" It didn't make sense to me at first, but then he continued. "Bill knew he wanted to sign you guys right away, when he first heard you. The other bands don't stand a chance." I smiled at him (wouldn't you smile too if you thought your dreams were about to come true?), and he tried again to explore the inside of my skirt.
Later, we were all extremely weary. So we decided it would be fun to stay at some dinky motel, trash it, play loud music, and sleep...which we did. I don't remember much, except that Billie and Mike were playing strip poker because they thought it would be funny (Billie was losing), so Tré got out of drag and stole Billie's close that he was losing. Mike spilled beer all over his outfit (and it was mostly white) so he turned them inside out so it wouldn't show (did it work? Not really, you could still see it). Greg fell asleep first (remember, deep sleeper?), so Mick drew on his face, and then crashed. I couldn't get any further than the floor, so I slept there (and so I wouldn't lose my tie after I took it off, I put it on my head. It looked stupid). After that, I can't remember.
All I remember was being awakened by a few cops in the morning.
That's how we all ended up at that police station. Billie in a t-shirt and boxers, Mike's clothes inside out, Tré in Billie's clothes, Mick with messy hair, Greg with Sharpie on his face, and me in a tank top and my shorts (boxer underwear, technically), with a tie around my head.
Apparently, we were "disturbing the peace" with a radio, which we all thought was hilarious. All we had to do was sit there as the police tried to prove it. Mick, Mike, and Billie were chatting lightly, Greg kept trying to get the marker off his face. And I sat there with the mother-of-all headaches. Tré kept looking over at me, with a small smile and a wink, which made me wish I COULD remember what happened that night. All I know was, well, I woke up in one of the beds, and he was sleeping next to me. And we were both half naked. See where I'm going with this?
I guess that should go down in history as the "Night-I-May-Or-May-Not-Have-Had-A-One-Night-Stand-With-Tré-Cool". Anyway...
After an hour, the cops finally came to the conclusion that there wasn't enough evidence to do anything, so we were allowed to leave. We had to walk back since lack of car.
"That was awesome!" Greg said suddenly. "Dude... the first time I was busted by the po-po...nice..." (Ok, no one REALLY says "po-po", just Greg)
"I'm glad we did this with you guys," Mike said out of the blue. "I mean, we had a blast with you all, and I bet it wouldn't have been any fun with El Kabong of Triple Shot."
"Well, what's going to happen when we get back?" Mick asked.
***
"You have to go, now," said the head tour manager to us, Resident Fantasy. "You were totally out of line. You could have jeopardized the whole tour!"
We tried to protest, but the over-reacting guy wouldn't be persuaded. Green Day tried to reason with him, nothing again. And my heart felt like it was going to explode, and I felt like I was going to burst into tears. The tour guy (God damn that bastard!) called all our parents, informing them that we were returning.
Great, thrown back into the arms of my not-so-loving family. But, Green Day did take us to the airport to say goodbye.
"I'm really sorry..." Billie Joe said sympathetically.
"We didn't mean to get you into trouble," Mike added. Mick, Greg, and I merely nodded as we solemnly dragged our stuff toward the plane entrance. Before I went through, Tré stopped me and handed me a piece of paper with his phone-number and email on it.
"So we can, you know, keep in touch," he said. I said thanks, happy I was at least getting a rock star's number out of this whole ordeal. He added as he walked away, over his shoulder, "Oh, and you were great last night." I was about to ask him if he meant on stage or...in bed, but a snooty flight attendant ushered me through before I could.
Well, that's the story. It's MY story, the story I tell all my friends who never believe me. But, it's ok. I get to LIVE the memories over and over again in my head. It also makes me realize the rest of my life is going to be uber boring compared to the short amount of time I spent with Green Day.
So, what's happened since then (come on, I know you're dying to know)? I got home to crying parents who were all, like: "Oh, our darling daughter, we were so worried!". Then, quickly, their attitudes changed and were, like: "You are grounded, young lady!!!" They even made me go to a shrink to find out "what causes these rebellious actions". Puh-leese...like they could name five other times I was rebellious to that degree (well, ok, maybe they could...but not the point). What else...well, Resident Evil broke up, which I told Tré all about. (Yes, we DO keep in touch, yah!) But, oh well - Mick and Greg and I are still friends, they just wanted to lead other lives. My last year of high school went slowly by...I was on auto-pilot again. But, I graduated with straight B's, a few A's, and one C. The cool part? At the graduation dance, I got up on stage with my good old acoustic and played "Good Riddance" (you just HAVE to play it at your graduation), and I almost cried.
After high school, I went to the Philadelphia School of Art and took a part-time job at Guitar Center. I loved to tell all my co-workers I met Green Day. Much like my friends, they called me a big, fat liar and laughed in my face. But what I REALLY loved was to see teenagers coming in, asking about playing guitar (or bass or drums or [insert instrument here]) and starting bands. Most of the guys are ignorant, and don't believe a girl could have been in a band (except a band of other girls). But, I was always willing to show them what I know, and watch their jaws dislocate themselves.
I'm single, and Mick and Greg have started families. I visit them every so often. All of this, I tell Tré, who usually tells me about what he's doing. And how it fucking sucks that we didn't get signed on Adeline or even finish the tour (and also usually he asks me if I'd like to engage in phone sex, but that's another story). El Kabong won, by the way. They were selling millions of albums, playing sold-out gigs, hanging with celebrities, yada, yada, yada. But, they headed straight into the arms of that bitch called fame. Josh Bangle O.D.-ed on crack, painkillers, decongestants, and spray paint. Jay Smith is an obnoxious drunk (which mean he hasn't changed much). Dex Teey committed suicide. Ben Kenyan was arrested for domestic violence. I can't pretend I'm not sort of sad, but I also can't pretend I'm not surprised.
Then, I turned 35. I still play guitar, but not enough that it doesn't gather dust. My new job is good. I'm the CEO of a music company...we're the ones in charge of manufacturing the actual CD's.
For a while, I lost contact with Green Day. They were working hard on their next album. Yep, they're still making music, even though they're in their mid-fifties. But, one day, sometime after the album came out, I got a call from Mr. Tré Cool. We exchanged the usual hi, how are you?, how's the family...but then he said, "Ok, I'll just cut to the chase. Billie wants to ask you something."
"Ok, put him on," I said.
"Hey, Clair!" Billie Joe said. "Look, I kind of need a big favor, if you can..."
"Fire away," I coolly said.
"Well," he began, "we're about to go on tour, as you already know, I'm sure but...we need an extra guitarist. Know anybody?" he concluded, with a small laugh.
I smiled, much like the time I smiled when I first read about that Green Day contest, looked over at my guitar, and I swear, it looked like it shook the dust off of itself. I smiled, because all those memories flooded over me, those lovely memories I look upon whenever I'm lost in my thoughts.
"Yeah, Bill," I said, still grinning for no one to see, "I think I know someone."
Confused yet? Ok, I'll back up a little then...
The exact date was August 29, 2009, a day before my first day of 12th grade. Of course, I was pretty pissed off about summer vacation ending, so I decided to rot away more of my brain on the internet. First, I went on GeekStinkBreath.net, like I always do. It's my favorite website, REALLY great website by the way, but the whole "made-up story" section is uber weird. Some people really need to get a life, if you ask me. Then, I saw the headline of that day: "BIG GREEN DAY CONTEST! GO TO OFFICIAL SITE FOR DETAILS!" I've always entered online Green Day contests, in hopes of winning something related to my all-time beloved band. But, I never won anything, so I almost didn't bother finding out more.
But, I did. Going over to GreenDay.com, I saw the same headline, along with more information for the contest that would change my life (I just didn't know it yet):
"Green Day is about to go on tour, as you most likely already know, and they've announced a contest. They are going to bring three small town bands with them on tour! Your band can be from anywhere in the U.S., as long as you're not signed to a label. At the end of the tour, Billie Joe will pick one of the bands to sign on to Adeline Records! For sign-up info, click here!"
A grin spread across my face for the first time that day. You see, I was in a band, Resident Fantasy, with my two best friends, Mick and Greg. Mick played bass and Greg on drums. Actually, Mick was SUPPOSED to sing, but I ended up singing along with playing guitar. I never understood that.
"Why do I have to sing?" I had asked him. "You're much better than me. And I'm not that attractive, so it can't even be for the sex-appeal of the band..." He never did tell me his reasoning.
Anyway, it had been our dream to be signed to Adeline. I can still remember a few years ago when it was only an independent label. Nowadays, it's major, and EVERYONE wanted to be on it.
So, I clicked the link. It gave me all the boring rules, like you must be a legal U.S. citizen, blah, blah, blah, not responsible for any damage...ok, I get it. If I'm suddenly decapitated on the tour, my parents can't sue.
As my excitement grew, I read the requirements: The band must have at least one guitarist, one bassist, one drummer, and one singer - anyone on an instrument can sing - any other instruments are accepted too -check #1 / Must not be signed to a record company - check #2 / Must send in a CD or tape with three of their songs on it - can do. My uncle is a DJ and has a recording studio and knows all about editing and stuff. Piece o' cake.
My hands almost trembling with excitement, I grabbed my cell phone and called Mick.
"Hey, what's up?" he said.
"MICK!" I suddenly screamed. "WE HAVE TO ENTER THIS CONTEST!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he replied, a little annoyed. "God damn it, Clair, I think you broke my ear drum."
"Sorry," I said quickly, "but listen..." I explained the whole thing to him, and he seemed not overjoyed.
"C'mon, C.," Mick sighed. "There's no way we'll win that. I mean, we're from Pennsylvania. No one gives a shit about us." (I don't know what made him think there's something wrong with our state, but, whatever)
"Exactly," I started, "they want small town bands. Band that are, like, from shitty towns who KNOW what it's like to live in a shitty town, not the ones who pretend they do."
"I don't know..." he said.
"PLEASE!" I practically begged.
"Ok, ok..." he caved. "I'll call Greg and tell him about it. Sign us up."
"I love you, dude!" I yelled. "Uh...that's a platonic love; don't get too excited."
"Not if it's you," he joked, hanging up.
I closed my phone and calmed down a little. Although what I said was true, about the small towns and stuff, there was (clearly) a small chance that we'd win. I mean, we WEREN'T anywhere near the greatest band ever (obviously, that's Green Day, but you get my point). But, in my oh-so humble opinion, we could always hold the audience and rock their fucking socks off. And I think that matters a lot.
So, I filled out the form to enter the contest and emailed it in. A few seconds later, an auto-response email came back.
"Thank you for entering. The winners will be announced on GreenDay.com on October 1st. Good luck!"
Yeah, that's good...if we somehow won, we'd miss out on most of school. Ok, ME, I should say, since I was the only one still in school. Greg was 19 and Mick was 21. I was just 17 years old, 18 in May. But, it's all good anyway.
The next day was...school. Yippee (psych). Actually, I really don't remember much that happened. It was like I was on auto-pilot, just hovering aimlessly from class to class...Near the end of September, I even forgot we'd entered the Green Day contest or sent in our three songs (called "No Way Out, "Freak", and "Is it Worth It?" if you were wondering). Oh, they all kick ass, by the way.
The day was September 26th, and I had to go online to do some retarded research for a French project, when I saw I had an email. Mindlessly, I opened it up. Big red letters greeted me:
CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR BAND WON!!!
At first, I though it was just a joke from one of my friends; I told all of them how Resident Fantasy entered the contest, and they all had a good laugh about it. Maybe they'd like to pull a prank on me. But...the email address was from GreenDay.com! In utter shock, I scrolled down:
"Your band, Resident Fantasy, is one of the three bands selected to go on tour with Green Day. You were selected by the band themselves, out of over 500,000 entries. But first, we need you to confirm you win, as will your band mates who have also received this email. Since you are under the age of 18, you must have a parent or guardian send us an email (from the link below) giving you permission. They must reply by September 30. When they do, instantly they will receive another email with more information. Hope to see you soon!"
Still in disbelief, I re-read the email five times. I was paralyzed with excitement. Really, you probably have NO idea what that felt like. It was like an interesting combination of stress, fear, excitement, jubilation, and indigestion. A zillion thoughts were buzzing in my head - What should I bring? What clothes should I wear? How long is the tour? Where does it start? How...
I snapped back into reality when my cell rang; it was Greg.
"Let me guess," I said slowly, "you got the email."
"Hell yeah, I did!" Greg exclaimed. "Oh my fucking God...we're going on tour with Green Day!!!"
"I know I can't even believe it!" I shrieked. Wow, I actually SHRIEKED. I usually don't do that. "Sorry, but I got to go. I have to get my parents to send an email saying I can go."
"They're going to say 'yes', right?" Greg asked, a little uncertain.
I thought about that for a moment. Technically, I never told them about the contest since I was so sure we wouldn't win. But, I assumed they'd be cool with it. They've let me do tons of stuff on my own. I'd just tell them this is a once in a life time opportunity; I'd be safe, nothing to worry about, yada, yada.
"Of course they'll say yes," I said.
***
"Absolutely not!" my mom said forcefully. End of discussion. Ok, not really. I tried to convince them for hours. They wouldn't budge. Why? They are purely demonic and are good friends with Satan and several antichrists. I'll save you from the boring details of the next couple of days, which included a lot of door slamming, cold shoulders, and foot stomping on my part.
Suddenly, it was September 29th, and I locked myself in my room. Headphones on, I listened to every Green Day album over and over again, a steady stream of tears running down my face. Yes, I cried. I know, shocking, right? Trust me, you'd be crying too. To be exact, at the moment in question I was listening to Kerplunk!. I flipped through the lyric book unconsciously and stopped at "My Adventure with Green Day". That story is SO funny. Personally, it's my favorite short story, next to "The Birds" and "Cask of the Amontillado" (don't ask, I'll just tell you that I'm a bookworm). It made me think, "Maybe I could kill MY parents so I can go on tour with Green Day." Of course, I could never do that...I mean, kill my parents and send that email myself; really, I...wait a second...DUH!
I should just send the fucking email myself! My parents had horrible memories and wrote down their passwords everywhere. I knew them by heart. No computer hacking skills required (or Bo staff skills, or num chuck skills). Jeez, your brain doesn't work very well when you're miserable, huh? (Or "eh?" if you're Canadian)
It was around 10:00 p.m. when I crept upstairs. And my parents were asleep already, surprisingly. The rest was easy. I was done in ten minutes. Not a sound. So, according to the email that came back, whoever worked with Green Day would contact my high school and excuse me. That made me HAPPY. No school AND touring with Green Day. Life is good. Also, Resident Fantasy would need to meet up with Green Day in Oakland, CA, where the tour would start, on October 3rd.
All I had to do was secretly pack my stuff and wait until then.
***
Mick and Greg showed up at my house in Greg's pick-up truck at 11:00p.m. on October 2nd. We knew it would take us a while to get to Oakland (even by plane), and I had to leave without my parents knowing.
I left my cell phone (so my parental units couldn't call me), grabbed my bags, and took my dad's guitar (it was much better than mine). And I left a cute note for them, which went something a little something like this: "Dear Family: I'm going on tour with my band, two bands I've never met, and a band of guys who are about 20 years older than me. You can't stop me, obviously. Don't wait up. Love: Clair." I was SO going to be dead. But, I'm going to meet Green Day, and meeting them is one of the things I have to do before I die, so...it's all good.
The flight was ok. We got some strange glances from people in suits, but who cares?
"We have our tickets, sir. No, we're not carrying any explosives, let us one the damn plane. Thank you, and have a nice day."
Just as we suspected, the flight was exceptionally long.
"This is going to be great!" Mick said to me as Greg snored loudly. He was a sound sleeper, which you'll find out about later. Mick decided not to sleep; whenever he sleeps anywhere, he gets major bed head.
"I know," I agreed. "I hope I don't, like, faint or wet myself when we meet them."
"But if you do both at the same time, that would be a funny trick," he joked around. Hours passed, I dozed off once or twice but couldn't get a restful sleep, not knowing I was about to have the most exciting adventure of my life.
At least there were enough packets of peanuts on the plane to keep my satisfied. There are actually directions on those bags, you know?
1. Open bag.
2. Place peanut(s) in mouth.
3. Chew and swallow .
4. Repeat if necessary.
Then we were finally there. I knew that my parents found my note by then and were considering calling the S.W.A.T. team, the National Guard, and the Mexican Army to come get me. (Trust me, they had them all on speed-dial, just because of me)
We only had carry-on bags and our instruments (except Greg's drums, which were sent FedEx), so we grabbed them after several attempts to wake up Greg. Personally, lack of sleep didn't affect me. After a few bottles of Mountain Dew, I'd be good.
After very little searching in the airport terminal, we saw a short, old man, sharply dressed, holding a sign that said "RESIDENT FANTASY".
"Hello, everyone," the old guy said to us as we approached him, "Enjoyed your flight?"
"Yes, sir!" Mick answered.
"Good, let's get going, shall we?" he guy said. "Follow me." And we did, of course. We followed him right to the limo outside the airport. I couldn't help but smile at Mick and Greg.
Ok, skipping the boring details of driving to the hotel we were staying at. Ok, now we're there. (Isn't the magic of writing amazing?)
It was certainly taller than any hotel in Levittown, PA. It almost hurt my neck to look up that far. Still following the elderly gentleman, we carted our stuff through the lobby, into the elevator, and down a hall on the 10th floor. The guy stopped in front of room J270. He handed me the card-key for the room.
"Your fellow bands are in there too. Your hosts will be up shortly." By "hosts" he meant Green Day, which almost made me jump for joy. The guy departed and we were left to stare blankly at the door.
Finally, I said, "Well, let's meet our competition." And, we entered the room. It was a huge room, like four times the size of my living room. As the guy said, there were two groups of people there.
"Hi," one of them said shortly. Uh oh, another boring part. Intros. Well, we introduced ourselves:
Clair Blackwood, age: 17, hair color: blue (yes...BLUE. I get a lot of stares from all the gangstas who live in my area) eye color: blue-green, height: 5' 5"
Mick Simons, age: 21, hair color: brown, blonde at the Mohawk, eye color: brown, height: 6' 2"
Greg Salzmann, age: 19, hair color: blonde, eye color: blue, height: 5' 6.5"
The first band:
Lead singer: Josh Bangle, age: 20, hair: shaved bald, eye color: brown, height: 4' 10"
Guitar: Jay Smith, age: 25, hair color: red, eye color: green, height: 4' 7"
Drums: Dex Teey, age: 23, hair color: black dreadlocks, eye color: brown, height: 6' 1"
Bass: Ben Kenyan: age: 20, hair color: red and black, eye color: light brown, height: 5' 5"
This band was called El Kabong.
The second band:
Bass/singer: Harry Rondo, age: 27, hair color: black, eye color: blue, height: 5' 7"
Guitar: Sammy Marten, age: 25, hair color: brown, eye color: dark blue, height: 5' 6.5"
Drums: Larry Chambers, age: 19, hair color: silver-ish, eye color: red/brown, height: 5' 3"
This band was called Triple Shot.
Ok, now that's over, I can complain how I WAS THE ONLY GIRL THERE!!!
... Ugh...oh well. So, we sat with them, and we all made small talk - like where they were from (El Kabong was from Idaho and Triple Shot was from somewhere in Colorado) - what kind of instruments they liked to use (I like Les Pauls, personally) - blah, blah, and more blah. Ok, we talked with them, but...uhh, they were really stuck up and rude. Eck, not a way to start off with me, just ask any other snooty person I've been around (they're currently breathing through a tube).
About 15 minuets passed by, when we heard the door being unlocked. We all stood up because we had a good idea who was there... Yep, Green Day walked through the door: Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool, of course! Let's see, how would I describe them...?
Uh...godly?
Yeah, that's a good word for it.
On the outside, I tried to look nonchalant and composed, but on the inside I was screaming and jumping around like those cheerleaders I hate so much. (Yes, all cheerleaders must vanish off the face of the Earth, sorry to tell you)
"Hey everyone," Billie Joe said, that voice I've heard a zillion times, which almost made me act like the Wicked Witch of the West when she gets water dumped on her (melting, I mean). "Congratulations. I hope you all made it here without any trouble."
All of a sudden, my goofy and witty side took over and I said matter-of-factly, "Yeah, well, once we knocked out the security guards and crawled through the ventilation ducts, everything was fine." That made everyone laugh - yes, Green Day ACTUALLY laughed at my corny-ass joke. Oooh, I'm good.
"Anyway," Mike started to say. "We're going to take you all out for some lunch so we can get to know you all."
"And, we're hungry, duh," Tré said. Again, I smiled because I still couldn't believe I was really there.
***
Since all that really happened when we were driving to the diner was...uh...us driving to the diner, I'll tell you what my parents are doing (it's highly entertaining).
"This is your entire fault, you know?" my mom screamed at my dad.
"How is this MY fault?" he complained.
"You should have never told her all those stories about when you were in a band. You put crazy ideas in her head!"
"Look," he said calmly, "she's almost 18; she can take care of herself. Plus, there's bound to be body guards or something there. There's nothing to worry about."
Mom stated crying. "But something COULD happen to Clair," she sobbed. "What if she gets...drunk or...in trouble or something?"
Ah, good old Mom...God, I hate it when she's right.
***
Where were we...oh yeah: lunch! Mmmm...food...I had fajitas because I LOVE how they set them on fire. Actually, I think I said to the waiter, "I'll have the steak fajitas. And be sure to set them ablaze, my good man." Everyone laughed again. Strangers tend to laugh at my jokes more than people I know, just because they aren't used to me, then you expect me to say something goofy and/or random, so it's not as funny.
And, I drank Mountain Dew, which makes me loopier than I usually am. El Kabong and Triple Shot were...how should I say this...not loopy...more like...rude much. But, in the end, that might have helped Resident Fantasy out a little.
"So, how long have you all been bands?" Billie asked.
"We've been together about 7 years," Harry Rondo, from Triple Shot, said.
"We started, maybe 5 or 6 years ago," Dex Teey, from El Kabong, said.
"Well," Mick started, now knowing we were about to be the underdogs, "Resident Fantasy has been around for 2 years." Billie Joe just nodded, but he might have made a mental note that we were the least experienced. Which, technically is true, but I think we had WAY more heart and energy than the others. But, then a question came in our favor.
"How long have you guys known how to play your instruments?" Mike asked. According to their responses, the guys from El Kabong had been playing for 7 years. Triple Shot had BEEN a band for 7 years, but really learned how to play 6 years before (don't ask me HOW they managed that).
"How about you, Mick?" Mike asked.
"I've been playing bass since I was 10, so 11 years," Mick said.
"And Greg?" Mike continued, a little impressed.
"I also started to learn drums when I was 10, or 9 years now," Greg announced.
"What about you, Clair?" he asked me.
"Uh... " I began, as I tried to recall exactly when I started learning to play guitar, "My dad started teaching me when I was like 5 or 6 years old...so...11 or 12 years, I think."
"Great!" Mike said. Score boards: Other two poser bands: 0 / Resident Fantasy: 1
The questions went on like that, except Tré's question to me, which was, "So, are you single or what?" to which I couldn't answer because I was blushing so much. You see, this is what happens when you're the only girl there!!!
Sorry, but this IS sort of the boring part of the story, but trust me it gets better. Excitement will be on the way.
So, after our uber cool meal, we went back to our uber cool hotel to get our stuff ready for our first show! I didn't know we'd have to perform the first the first day. I think Billie saw that kind of look on our faces.
"I know it's short notice," he said. "But everything will be fine. We have everything you'll need."
"Like Pepto?" I groaned, holding my ever-knotting stomach.
Ok, fast forward to backstage at the stadium. There were, like 20 people waiting on everyone hand and foot, which is pretty neat. I'm sure if you're a really famous band like Green Day, you get used to that.
"Everyone into wardrobe!" said a tour manager. There was a huge dressing room, much like the one in "Bullet in a Bible". You know, the part where Billie pulled his pants down and showed off his ass? Whenever I'd watch that with my friend, Bri, she'd always pause the DVD for a moment or two (which is why I happen to remember it) But, that's my friend for you. Any-who...
And, my outfit was awesome by the way. Just to let you know, I was the only girl in my school bold enough to wear a tie (and not be a poser). And, at the moment in question, I was wearing a tubular black and white striped tie (with a dress shirt and a black peasant skirt, by the way), much like the tie Tré wore during the American Idiot era. He noticed that, grabbed me by my tie, looked my right in the eyes and said, "Great tie, but you stole it from me." He said this is a mock-angry tone.
It was kind of awkward because he was really close to me and...well, I have a crush on him (who doesn't? It only makes sense because he's the only member of Green Day who's single. And he's cute. And he's incredibly horny. Just saying, that turns some people on, like me).
After we all got dressed and beauty-fied (which included but wasn't limited to: hair, make-up, blah, blah, and...yes...more blah)
By then, I was SO fucking nervous. I really thought I was going to barf. That's why I just stared at my checker board shoes forever and cradled my dad's Les Paul in my arms. I know...NOT the coolest thing to do, just standing there and shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Everyone else was chatting, joking, and drinking, even Greg, who obviously was too young. Outside, I could hear the audience, their noise pulsing through my ears and giving me a small headache. This also made me nervous. Back in Levittown, we were known, and the crowd would forgive us if we screwed up something. Here, no one knew us. We were at their mercy, and that terrified me.
About 20 minutes before the show (El Kabong was up first), I was still (you guessed it) frightened out of my mind. At one point, Tré came over to me, (which didn't make me any calmer) and asked, "So, you ready?"
"Well," I started, not really looking at him, "if by 'excited' you mean 'feels like I am going to be violently sick', then yes, I'm excited." It was the blunt, sarcastic way I said it that made it funny. Tré just laughed and tapped me on the butt (left cheek to be exact), which almost made me yelp. Oh, so he's hitting on me...? SWEET!!! (And I'm ignoring the fact that he's twenty years older than me which makes that a little creepy...and possibly illegal)
Anyway, the dudes from El Kabong were on and, in the short amount of time they were drinking, they were so pissed. I think their music would have sucked even if they WEREN'T flat-ass drunk, but you get the picture. They played five songs, that all contained the same three chords (A, E, and G, maybe a few F's and C's thrown in once or twice). So, pretty lame writing, if you ask me. Snores-ville, U.S.A.
Then, Triple Shot went on. They were ok, but they did these long, shitty guitar solos. Personally, I think solos are so lame - we in Resident Evil always mad sure we highlighted everyone's part. They played four songs, which were all about girls, sex, and drugs. I could see on Billie, Mike, and Tré's faces that they weren't enjoying them all that much either. I think I even heard Billie say under his breath, "Jesus, they suck!" about El Kabong.
Then, oh my God, we were up! We stood in the wing, waiting for what seemed and eternity and a half. A stage manager dude gave us the thumbs up to head out. Right before we stormed onto the stage, Billie whispered in my ear, "You guys are going to fucking rule! Good luck!"
Just him saying that...I felt like I was going to start floating through the air
Well, how'd it go? Uh, we fucking ruled, just like Billie Joe said we would. The audience was with us all the way (to some extent, surprising to me). And, I couldn't see them, but I could sense Green Day back stage, cheering us on. And I could sense El Kabong and Triple Shot shitting their pants. The songs we played were the three we mailed in, plus two other ones, and a cover of this song by Butch Walker. It's called "Lights Out", and it's a great song to get the audience pumped. I'll show you how by what I said.
"Ok!" I bellowed into the microphone. "Now we're gonna do a song called 'Lights Out'. Now, I'm going to need your help with this one, alright? Now, all you have to do is repeat two things. When I say, 'Hell yeah!' you scream 'Hell yeah!'. When I say 'Yeah dog!', you scream 'Yeah dog!' Got it?"
Here's a little of how the song went, the chorus
"Can I get a hell yeah (Hell yeah!) if you're as lost as I am / Yeah dog (Yeah dog!) if you hate the expression / Talking all over has become my profession / Since you put the lights out in my heart"
So, all the audience was screaming "Hell yeah!" and "Yeah dog", and it was amazing!
When we finished...ah, the applause, pleasurable and deafening all at once. It's a good sound. Mick ran up to the front of the stage and did an awesome stage dive! I busted out laughing as a bouncer struggled to get him safely back onto the stage. It was probably very hard since Mick is so tall. Slowly, we walked off stage, the applause, the surroundings, melting away...because all I could see was Billie, Mike, and Tré, and the elated looks on their faces. And that was better than anything in the world. More than all the money, chocolate, and puppies in the universe. Really...seriously, I know what I'm talking about here.
Then, I was able to just relax and watch Green Day play. Of course, they rocked - would you expect anything less? I even got to hand Billie Joe his guitars when they changed to a song that was tuned differently (if you don't know much about guitars, that won't make much sense. Just go with me here, people). It was just amazing. I mean, so amazing, that the word "amazing" doesn't even come close to describing a fraction of a decimal of a percent of what it was.
Near the end of the set, Billie began to introduce Green Day, like he always does. Then, he bought up the obvious fact that three other bands were before them.
"At this time," he said, that big, booming voice, so sweet yet harsh all at once, "we want to introduce the crazy dudes from El Kabong!" That was their cue to walk (stumble, because of being so drunk) out on the stage and say their names and stuff. The crowd cheered, sort of. "And now, give it up for Triple Shot!" so, they walked out and said some very unintelligent things that may or may not have been meant to be jokes that no one understood. There was a slow applause.
"And of course," Billie began again, "let's not forget the awesome members of Resident Fantasy!" We walked out and an abrupt burst of cheers greeted us. Greg went first.
"Wuzzup, ya'll?!?" he screamed into the microphone. "I'm Greg Salzmann. Remember that name. You'll be screaming it later." Even though that saying has showed up on a bunch of t-shirts and key chains, it was still funny.
"Mick's my name..." Mick started. "If you don't like it...uh...oh, this is the part where I'm supposed to say something amusing..." He put his finger to his chin in a thinking manner, which got a few laughs. "Uh...my name is Mick, and if you don't like it...uh...go fuck your mom!" Ok, not the best, but effective. Next, I had to say something.
"Hi, people," I said in a mock-perky tone. "My name is Clair Black. And, why am I here? Well, c'mon, I heard there was free food! But, really, I got here by hacking into my parent's email account, stealing my dad's guitar, and sneaking out of Pennsylvania! Why? I'm a flippin' rebel, damn it!" All those who love Napoleon Dynamite, say "I"! So, we left the stage and Green Day played a few more songs before finishing off with the classic "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)". How could you NOT end a show with that song?
Then, it was over, and we were all looking forward to doing it again and again at every show of the tour...
"You guys should go crash for the night," Mike said to El Kabong and Triple Shot. "You all look beat." They didn't protest, and left right away. I started to wonder why me, Mick, and Greg weren't asked to leave (and let Green Day do their...uh...Green Day thing, which I guess is whatever super rock stars do), but then Mike said, relieved, "Finally, we got them the fuck out of here!" Mick gave him a questioning look. "You didn't notice how awful and rude those guys were?"
"Yeah," Billie Joe added. "Weren't not going to party with those shit-heads."
"Party?" I thought to myself with a grin. "SWEET-NESS!!"
***
Ok, back to my parents, an hour later, 8 p.m. in California, so it was like midnight in PA. And my parents were up.
"Hold on, I'm almost through," my dad said to my tear-stained face mom. He was on the phone. "Yes, hello? Hi, I'm Will Blackwood, Clair Blackwood's father, she's in Resident Fantasy...uh...ohm...yes...yes! Can I talk to her?"
***
Like I said, it was an hour later, and we were all REALLY drunk. At first, I wasn't sure if I should drink (I mean, I pay attention in health class, and I enjoy having a fully-functioning liver). But, I knew this wasn't like parties held by people at school, just peer pressuring you to drink. Here, it was rock stars, not people who are popular now but will end up working at McDonald's the rest of their lives. So, well, I thought about it for a moment and a half, and then said to myself, "What the hell?"
Right, so, REALLY drunk. We had the radio playing, eating chips and pretzels and stuff (they ended up all over the floor), joking around and laughing.
"Then I said..." Greg began, taking another shot. "If you don't like it, shove it up your ass!" Everyone cracked up, not because it was THAT funny...you know, alcohol tends to make everything quite droll.
"You said that to your English teacher?" Billie asked through laughter.
"I thought your book report was great and deserved and A+!" I announced. "Who knew you couldn't write a book report about the swim-suit issue of Sports Illustrated?"
"Hey, I'll be back in a sec, ok?" Tré said, heading out of the lounge room back stage. No one really noticed that he left (trust me, we noticed when he came back...but, we're not there yet, be patient). We were all just chilling, and I was SO happy, but then...
One of the tour guys came in with a phone in hand. "Excuse me...uh, Clair? Phone call." The guy handed me the phone.
"Hi?" I said, my voice pretty slurred. "Uh, who dis tis?" I think I meant "Who is this?"
"Clair?" said my dad. "Clair, is that you?"
"Oh, hi dads!" I cheered. "Hower youg?" Translation: "Oh, hi dad. How are you?"
"Clair, you sound horrible," my dad cried. "Clair, do you know how worried we are?"
"Probzley verbby," I attempted to stumble out. Translation: "Probably very."
"Why did you just leave us like that?" Dad almost yelled.
"Cuz you guys wongent letme go, dats zie!" I moaned. That is loosely interpreted as "Because you wouldn't let me go, that's why!"
"Oh my God, are you drunk?" he screamed over the phone.
"No, ud corsh noth." I laughed. "No, of course not," is what I might have meant. "Look, dad, I'm oday. Reetly. I'z be back inza while." "Look, dad, I'm ok. Really. I'll be back in a while." I concluded, hanging up.
"Who was that?" Billie Joe asked me.
"My dad," I sighed, slumping in my seat. Enough said. But, then I looked at the empty seat where a certain drummer was sitting. "Yo, where's Tré?" That's when everyone noticed he wasn't there.
"I'll go find him," Mike said, stumbling out of the room.
I looked at my watch. It was 9 something. Since I was so used to Eastern Time, it felt much later. I was completely and absolutely tired. But then, I was fully awake when Tré entered the room. First, we heard Mike laughing as he was walking down the hall. Then we all were laughing when we saw Tré, who had changed into drag. Why? Well, he's drunk and he likes to, I guess. He was wearing a (slightly unappealing) pink dress with fishnets, tall black boots, pink lipstick, and a messy blonde wig. It was the most side-splitting thing that I'd ever seen. He kind of swaggered in, which made everyone chortle harder.
He came over to me and sat on my lap, which I wasn't expecting. In a really funny voice he said, "What's up, girlfriend?". Then, he gave me a big smackeroo right on the lips. Everyone was still giggling, not realizing "hey, he's 20 years older than me...creepy much?" Honestly, it was slightly awkward, only because he was wearing lipstick. But, I can't say I didn't kiss him back. It was only when his hand started moving further and further up my skirt that I had to push him away.
Well, after that, we all decided to walk around town. We didn't tell anyone of the tour people, we just left. It was cool, walking around, goofing on people. All the way, Tré put his arm around my waist, whispering stupid stuff to me. Billie and Mike were pointing out all these places that they played at when they were younger.
At one point, Tré said to me, "You guys are going to win, you know?" It didn't make sense to me at first, but then he continued. "Bill knew he wanted to sign you guys right away, when he first heard you. The other bands don't stand a chance." I smiled at him (wouldn't you smile too if you thought your dreams were about to come true?), and he tried again to explore the inside of my skirt.
Later, we were all extremely weary. So we decided it would be fun to stay at some dinky motel, trash it, play loud music, and sleep...which we did. I don't remember much, except that Billie and Mike were playing strip poker because they thought it would be funny (Billie was losing), so Tré got out of drag and stole Billie's close that he was losing. Mike spilled beer all over his outfit (and it was mostly white) so he turned them inside out so it wouldn't show (did it work? Not really, you could still see it). Greg fell asleep first (remember, deep sleeper?), so Mick drew on his face, and then crashed. I couldn't get any further than the floor, so I slept there (and so I wouldn't lose my tie after I took it off, I put it on my head. It looked stupid). After that, I can't remember.
All I remember was being awakened by a few cops in the morning.
That's how we all ended up at that police station. Billie in a t-shirt and boxers, Mike's clothes inside out, Tré in Billie's clothes, Mick with messy hair, Greg with Sharpie on his face, and me in a tank top and my shorts (boxer underwear, technically), with a tie around my head.
Apparently, we were "disturbing the peace" with a radio, which we all thought was hilarious. All we had to do was sit there as the police tried to prove it. Mick, Mike, and Billie were chatting lightly, Greg kept trying to get the marker off his face. And I sat there with the mother-of-all headaches. Tré kept looking over at me, with a small smile and a wink, which made me wish I COULD remember what happened that night. All I know was, well, I woke up in one of the beds, and he was sleeping next to me. And we were both half naked. See where I'm going with this?
I guess that should go down in history as the "Night-I-May-Or-May-Not-Have-Had-A-One-Night-Stand-With-Tré-Cool". Anyway...
After an hour, the cops finally came to the conclusion that there wasn't enough evidence to do anything, so we were allowed to leave. We had to walk back since lack of car.
"That was awesome!" Greg said suddenly. "Dude... the first time I was busted by the po-po...nice..." (Ok, no one REALLY says "po-po", just Greg)
"I'm glad we did this with you guys," Mike said out of the blue. "I mean, we had a blast with you all, and I bet it wouldn't have been any fun with El Kabong of Triple Shot."
"Well, what's going to happen when we get back?" Mick asked.
***
"You have to go, now," said the head tour manager to us, Resident Fantasy. "You were totally out of line. You could have jeopardized the whole tour!"
We tried to protest, but the over-reacting guy wouldn't be persuaded. Green Day tried to reason with him, nothing again. And my heart felt like it was going to explode, and I felt like I was going to burst into tears. The tour guy (God damn that bastard!) called all our parents, informing them that we were returning.
Great, thrown back into the arms of my not-so-loving family. But, Green Day did take us to the airport to say goodbye.
"I'm really sorry..." Billie Joe said sympathetically.
"We didn't mean to get you into trouble," Mike added. Mick, Greg, and I merely nodded as we solemnly dragged our stuff toward the plane entrance. Before I went through, Tré stopped me and handed me a piece of paper with his phone-number and email on it.
"So we can, you know, keep in touch," he said. I said thanks, happy I was at least getting a rock star's number out of this whole ordeal. He added as he walked away, over his shoulder, "Oh, and you were great last night." I was about to ask him if he meant on stage or...in bed, but a snooty flight attendant ushered me through before I could.
Well, that's the story. It's MY story, the story I tell all my friends who never believe me. But, it's ok. I get to LIVE the memories over and over again in my head. It also makes me realize the rest of my life is going to be uber boring compared to the short amount of time I spent with Green Day.
So, what's happened since then (come on, I know you're dying to know)? I got home to crying parents who were all, like: "Oh, our darling daughter, we were so worried!". Then, quickly, their attitudes changed and were, like: "You are grounded, young lady!!!" They even made me go to a shrink to find out "what causes these rebellious actions". Puh-leese...like they could name five other times I was rebellious to that degree (well, ok, maybe they could...but not the point). What else...well, Resident Evil broke up, which I told Tré all about. (Yes, we DO keep in touch, yah!) But, oh well - Mick and Greg and I are still friends, they just wanted to lead other lives. My last year of high school went slowly by...I was on auto-pilot again. But, I graduated with straight B's, a few A's, and one C. The cool part? At the graduation dance, I got up on stage with my good old acoustic and played "Good Riddance" (you just HAVE to play it at your graduation), and I almost cried.
After high school, I went to the Philadelphia School of Art and took a part-time job at Guitar Center. I loved to tell all my co-workers I met Green Day. Much like my friends, they called me a big, fat liar and laughed in my face. But what I REALLY loved was to see teenagers coming in, asking about playing guitar (or bass or drums or [insert instrument here]) and starting bands. Most of the guys are ignorant, and don't believe a girl could have been in a band (except a band of other girls). But, I was always willing to show them what I know, and watch their jaws dislocate themselves.
I'm single, and Mick and Greg have started families. I visit them every so often. All of this, I tell Tré, who usually tells me about what he's doing. And how it fucking sucks that we didn't get signed on Adeline or even finish the tour (and also usually he asks me if I'd like to engage in phone sex, but that's another story). El Kabong won, by the way. They were selling millions of albums, playing sold-out gigs, hanging with celebrities, yada, yada, yada. But, they headed straight into the arms of that bitch called fame. Josh Bangle O.D.-ed on crack, painkillers, decongestants, and spray paint. Jay Smith is an obnoxious drunk (which mean he hasn't changed much). Dex Teey committed suicide. Ben Kenyan was arrested for domestic violence. I can't pretend I'm not sort of sad, but I also can't pretend I'm not surprised.
Then, I turned 35. I still play guitar, but not enough that it doesn't gather dust. My new job is good. I'm the CEO of a music company...we're the ones in charge of manufacturing the actual CD's.
For a while, I lost contact with Green Day. They were working hard on their next album. Yep, they're still making music, even though they're in their mid-fifties. But, one day, sometime after the album came out, I got a call from Mr. Tré Cool. We exchanged the usual hi, how are you?, how's the family...but then he said, "Ok, I'll just cut to the chase. Billie wants to ask you something."
"Ok, put him on," I said.
"Hey, Clair!" Billie Joe said. "Look, I kind of need a big favor, if you can..."
"Fire away," I coolly said.
"Well," he began, "we're about to go on tour, as you already know, I'm sure but...we need an extra guitarist. Know anybody?" he concluded, with a small laugh.
I smiled, much like the time I smiled when I first read about that Green Day contest, looked over at my guitar, and I swear, it looked like it shook the dust off of itself. I smiled, because all those memories flooded over me, those lovely memories I look upon whenever I'm lost in my thoughts.
"Yeah, Bill," I said, still grinning for no one to see, "I think I know someone."
