Ride On

Chapter XVII: Ain't No Fun (Waiting Round To Be A Groupie)

I woke up at seven.

Dreams of seeing the band in concert played all night and I woke up realising it wasn't a dream at all. It actually happened.

I was in a lot of pain.

My muscles were screaming. I felt a weird knot in my stomach and a random pain in my left shoulder. 

And I was still tired. 

It being Sunday I stayed in my pyjamas. The sun was out and I thought a bit of gardening might do me some good. Or some bird watching. I left my room to complete my morning routine and saw the kitchen was empty. There was a note on the counter saying my parents had left to go get some coffee and to help myself to any leftovers from their day at the beach. Instead I grabbed a banana and went outside. 

**********

"How was the concert?"

"Good."

"Did they all strip down nude?" My dad thought he was so clever.

"No, none of them did. None of them were naked, none of them caressed anyone, and Bon only said the f word one time." I'll defend these men with everything I've got, even if it isn't much.

"That's good, only once. Maybe they're trying to quit." He sifted through television channels until he came across the news then sat back in his recliner sipping his coffee. I left the room before I could hear about all the tragedies of that morning. Before I made it to my bedroom I heard my dad say, "Now they just need a nudist's rehab."

I'll admit, I had a laugh.

**********

I finally set my book down after a marathon session. Every once in a while I pick up a book I don't absolutely love or even some I hate. This one wasn't my favourite but it wasn't a waste of my time to finish it. Stretching myself out on the bed I fantasised about walking through downtown Sydney. Happening across someone who knew the band and introduced me. A silly thought, I know, but it didn't hurt to wish. 

What would I even say to them? I couldn't talk my way out of a paper bag. They'd only exchange looks with each other and eventually tune me out. Or they would show genuine interest and I wouldn't have anything to offer. I could go on about fashion and sea lions and gush over lasagna but I couldn't add anything of real substance to a conversation. Most likely I wouldn't say anything at all, retreat into my shell, and melt into the ground. 

They'd notice I was missing five days later.

Better not wish too hard upon a star.