Ride On

Chapter XXI: I've Just Seen A Face

If you think I was suddenly best friends with Bon Scott, then you were dead wrong.

Weeks went by and I hadn't seen him. He said he found my house by accident and that was the truth. He and Malcolm went on their way and I went mine.

Until the twenty fifth of January. 

Mum sent me to the market to pick up some groceries. Normally I just go when my food runs out but she gave me money and sent me off while she stayed behind to work. I gladly accepted any reason to get out of that house. 

The trolley was already half full of vegetables and a few bags of fruit. I was just about to pick the perfect bunch of bananas when I heard laughter behind me. And one voice in particular sounded awfully familiar. 

There Bon stood chatting with a man in a checker's apron. Either they already knew each other or Bon was the easiest man to make friends with.

Possibly both. 

I saw a brunette woman walk up to them to and whisper something in Bon's ear. He seemed to agree and they shook hands with the checker and turned around to continue their day. 

Just like that. 

What I wouldn't give to be able to just....talk to people like that. What I wouldn't give to not feel smothered by the bright market lights and ambiance of the customers. 

What I wouldn't give to feel the slightest bit....

Human.

**********

As if my summer couldn't get any more impossible, I got another ticket to see the band.

They were playing another show downtown since they seemed to be on holiday after their busy tour last year. It was close by, even closer than the last venue I saw them at.

This was a pub.

I don't drink. Sure I smuggled a bit of alcohol a while back but it made me feel like utter shit and I never did it again. The fact is, I had never been to a pub before or a bar or anything like that.

I was nervous as hell.

The films make it seem like bars are full of drunk people, fighting and drug use. I'm sure it's just Hollywood pulling our legs but those images stick with you. I decided I'd keep to myself. Huh. As if I didn't already have a social complex. 

I spent a little extra money on backstage passes too. I thought, hell, if I'm going to a bar, might as well go the extra mile. 

The trouble was...explaining to my parents. 

I had planned to book a motel room and stay the night there after the show. It was an easy walk home. But you only live once. 

Not only going to see those "nudists" again in a trashy bar, potentially meeting them and their friends backstage, but staying in some motel too. How the fuck was I supposed to pull that off? 

But just think of the experience...

I had always wanted to be a writer. And the way I see it, the more I experience, the more I have to write about. 

I just hoped this experience didn't scare me back into my bell tower.