Shine On

            by Adam Miller

 

            I stomped on the clutch, mashed into the next gear, and tore off into the Berkeley hills.  The minutes ticked by as my house, and the show-time, drew steadily closer.  I swerved up my street, screeched to a halt, and pulled out my cell phone with one hand, slamming the car door with the other.  As I dialed Gus, I entered my house and scrambled around to find a crappy blanket and jacket. The call connected, and I checked my watch - 20 minutes late. Fuck, the other guys are gonna be pissed.  A few minutes passed, and I heard Gus honk, calling me outside. I hopped in shotgun, and we tore off towards Jack’s house.

            This trip had been, to an extent, been planned for almost a year. Jack had alerted me that Roger Waters, the bassist and founder of the legendary Pink Floyd, was going to play in Mountain View. We alerted several of our friends, and the morning the tickets went on sale, I bought tickets for the five of us. Our excitement for the event had grown exponentially over the following year.

Despite the great wait, the plan for that particular day wasn’t thought out too well.  It had dawned on us the night before that we might need at least a little organization, so we wouldn’t arrive two hours after the concert started.  That being said, the timetable I threw together failed to take into account that I had lab Tuesday afternoons, and that there would be rush-hour traffic building up quickly, hence the need to hurry. 

            Gus and I stopped in front of Jack’s house, pulling in right behind Calvin’s Volvo. We were about 35 minutes later than expected, and everyone else was already there. I jogged up the steps, greeted by Jack’s obscene golden aviators, silly knit hat, and glinting bowl of Fruity Cheerios.  His bare feet and excited grin made it abundantly clear he didn’t mind being a few minutes late.  I stepped into his house, and greeted Nate and Calvin, who were packing up the last of the stuff they wanted to bring to the concert. While we all waited for everyone else to get ready, I sat down to a bowl of Fruity Cheerios, and Gus joined me at the small table. We turned around to face Jack wrestling several large Zip-lock bags, stuffing them full of various munchables, including Oreos, Cheerios, and chewy bars. 

While I truly appreciated the snacks he was packing up, I started getting a little antsy, the other two had about finished packing up all their crap, and he was still shoe-less and wearing his jammy-jams and “Dark Side” T-shirt.  The bowl clanked down in the sink and as I wiped my mouth on my shirtsleeve, I noticed the directions on the table and snatched them up. Calvin, Nate, Gus and I headed out the door, as we all hollered “Shotgun!”

“Left nut!”

            “Le-, Right nut!”

 I sat down in the seat next to Gus, and the other two sat in the back, after putting their bags and blankets in the trunk.

            It took about 5 minutes of sitting in the car before we sent Cal to drag Jack out of his house.  He returned a minute later behind Jack, who was now wearing shoes but still in his pajama pants.  They rough-housed down the stairs to the car, throwing penis jokes back and forth until they were both in the car. Gus started it up, and we pulled away from the curb towards the freeway, a mere 3 hours until Roger Waters walked onstage.

 

            I picked Oreo crumbs off of my lap as we jerked to another halt in the thick afternoon traffic.  We had been traveling for about an hour, and making decent time, until we hit a huge clump of cars, including a few hundred rubber-neckers slowing down to look at a rear end accident on the shoulder.  The joking had slowed down considerably as well; I suspect it was because we were getting a little nervous about making it to the concert on time.  It began dawning on me that I wasn’t going to get a single line written, or single equation solved on tonight’s homework.  I tried to push the thought out of my head, but the 5 mph traffic made it difficult.  Then Nate farted from the center rear seat. 

“Aww, dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” exclaimed Gus, not wasting the ripe opportunity. The cars began picking up speed, as did our joking. Despite the cramped quarters, the ride was turning out to be pretty fun after all.

 

            “You ain’t in the carpool lane. You have to pay the three dollars,” the toll lady told us, without the slightest hint of a soul. We didn’t even know that lane was open, let alone we’d have to pay if we were in the wrong spot.

Gus gave her an all too kind “Okay, well, sorry about that,” and while we drove off Gus shouted out “haha! We’re schmobbing everyone!” as we zoomed past every car in our path.   There were no worries, we were almost in Martinez at that time. We pulled off on the wrong exit, got turned around and wasted a good 10 or 15 minutes. Goddammit. But thankfully, by jumping one more exit down the highway, we fixed our error, and flew down the main street, a supposed “.6” miles to our hotel.

            The map, and information we had, said that this particular super 8 motel was roughly a half-mile from the venue. However when we drove down that long, straight, 4-lane road, we began to realize that we might have quite a long stroll to get to the concert. 2.4 Miles long, to be precise. This of course mucked up our plans, as we had been planning to get from the motel to the concert in under 15 minutes.  The timetable was becoming more jumbled by the minute.

            Our car bumped over the parking lot entrance to the motel and we pulled into a spot tucked away in the back.  Gus, Jack and I walked to the front desk to check into our room, leaving the other two to watch the car.  We hoped check in would go smoothly, because there was less than one and a half hours until the concert

            Lo and behold, the guy at the counter was an ass-hat, and didn’t seem to like teenagers checking out a room. For this, he gave us a lot of “You didn’t reserve a room here. You need to stop hanging out in the parking lot and leave!”

“The name is Regina Nation,” Said Jack, “It’s my mom’s name. She reserved the room.”

I could read the disappointment on the clerk’s face when re realized we actually had reservations. The guy was kind of a jerk.  We finally pried a key out of the clerk’s hand, as he forced out a curt, “Enjoy your stay.”

 

Two bottles clinked together in the folds of Calvin’s lawn blanket, as he shoved it into his crew bag.  “Hey, could’ja toss me a water?” he asked.

I tossed him 2 bottled waters, and he set them in his bag, on top of the blanket, and on top of a Zip-lock bag of snack food. My backpack was full of school stuff, and I realized that I had only retrieved the jacket from my house, completely forgetting my blanket.  I decided it best to leave the backpack behind, and walk to the concert in my jacket, with my fur hat atop my head.  I took all the extra crap out of my pockets to save weight for the walk, keeping just my wallet and cell phone.  I looked down at the LCD screen, which read out 7:03.  With only an hour until the concert, I began trying to persuade my friends to get out the front door.

 

“I don’t think this is gonna’ be a half mile, fool,” Calvin bitched.

“Dude, don’t worry about it. I’m sure that if we walk fast, well get there in time.” His complaining bugged me, but I knew he was completely right. After checking the yahoo map several times, we knew for sure that the Shoreline Ampitheater website had lied about the half-mile walk.

As it would turn out, the walk was destined to be incredible fun, we met up with these two guys staying at our hotel, Alex and Jacob. They were walking too, and were glad to join our party. At this point, our group had turned into a slightly stumbling mob in the middle of a spotless Mountain View neighborhood.

We spent the next 50 minutes plodding down the sidewalk, chatting loudly, and sipping our cool beverages.  The darkening sky and pre-planted tree line washed past, while loud stories about other concerts, hometowns, and plans for skipping work the next day were shared amongst the large, rambling group.

The sidewalk began to peter out as the 4-lane road made its way onto a bridge. A few moments later, all seven of us were walking precariously along a bicycle path, a guard rail on our left, BIG-FAST-SCARY cars on our right.

“HHHHOOOOOONNNNKKKKK,” the cars screamed, as we all sprinted from the bike lane onto the center divide. We ran along the concrete island for a few hundred yards until the bridge ended and sidewalk reappeared. We dodged another car, and jogged back to the sidewalk. We passed a Togo’s Sandwiches, and Jack ran off to grab a sub.

“We’re not gonna wait for you, man!” I yelled at my starving friend.  We didn’t wait a second for him, but he caught up within 2 minutes.  When he returned, just about everyone asked him for a bite of sandwich, to which he responded “Fuh Joo!” spewing small bits of sandwich everywhere.

“Ha Ha, we’ll make it there before you guys!” Jack screamed at the idling wall of unmoving cars, all trying to get into the concert. The line of fancy cars and preppy drivers stretched on for at least the last half-mile of our walk, up to the concert gates.  We were always a step ahead of them, walking at a brisk 3mph.

“Enjoy your 20 dollar parking, assholes,” the newcomer Jacob shouted. The old couple in the convertible heard us. Yet of course, their disgust in our behavior only fueled our fun, put even wider smiles on our faces, and coarser shouts in our throats. 

 

After an hour of walking, the glowing red tips of the concert tent stretched high into the sky, welcoming us with open arms. Roger Waters was scheduled to walk on stage in less than 15 minutes, and the sea of fans was oozing towards the front gate. 

“See ya’ guys later”

“Maybe after the concert,” Calvin called to Alex and Jacob as they left to go meet their friends at the gate. As it turned out, we never saw those two again; they had seats, and we only bought lawn seating. Through the mad rush after the concert, we never caught a glimpse of them.

My four friends and I made it to the ticket gate, and handed the guy our printed-out tickets.  After a quick pat down, we jogged towards the grass field. We all made it in without incident, and with only 15 minutes left until the concert began. I hope we can get some good ass seats.

 

We got some good ass seats, high on the hill, near the middle, and without much forward obstruction. We settled into our nest of blankets and snack food, and warmed our bellies with some tasty drinks.  The blankets were comfortable and welcoming, and we sat contently, watching the hazer machines began pouring smoke onto the stage. The five of us did our part to help the machines. Within 10 minutes, my veins were tingling with joy, and my head swimming with anticipation for Roger to step on stage.

Then the announcer told us, “I’m sorry, but there are still many people waiting to get in, and the show will start in another 15 minutes. Thank you for your patience.”

The venue, chock full of fans, let out a very distressed rumble of Sighs and Awwws. My friends and I were right there with them. All of us hated the idea of having to wait for the cars, which we had walked past and yelled at just a half hour before. We were all thinking the same thing. Damn Karma.

 

200,000 people leapt to their feet clapping and shouting when a beam of light traced a single, frail figure across the stage.  Low-level vibrations coursed through my entire body, making me shudder and smile.  The music I know and love flowed through me like water, enriched by the excited screaming of a quarter-million fans. Then, every one of the quarter million fans leapt to their feet, standing in respect and awe of the music that engulfed them.  The five of us stood like statues at first, transfixed, before pulling out our lighters, and holding them on high.

The entire experience became a visceral blur.  During “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” a 20 foot long inflatable pig with the lyrics painted on its back floated over the lawn. I lay down onto my back as the pig’s rope was slashed, and the creature floated peacefully into the sky. I lay motionless for several minutes, absorbing the music, staring at the prop growing ever smaller against the black sky. I noticed that while I lay on the blankets, the horde of fans standing up cut out the treble in the music.  This left only the deep thrumming bass to shake my bones and rattle my head against the comfort of the grass and wool.

 

As intermission rolled around, I tingled with anticipation, knowing that all of Dark Side of the Moon was up next.  “Anyone wanna’ come with me to get some burgers or something? I’m gonna’ grab some food before the lines get ridiculous”

“Yeah, I’ll come with,” Cal answered. He seemed tired of Chewie Bars and Cheerios.

“Hey, I have to piss… I’ll come too,” Nate said, he turned and asked, “You two staying here?”

Jack and Gus were laying peacefully on the blankets and nodded in agreement. I walked off, and the three of us picked our way through the crowds hustling towards the bathroom.  I made it to the food court with Cal, just three people from the front of the line. One glance at the prices, and I began to feel sick. “Eight dollars for a crappy burger and a soda? That’s ridiculous!” I complained.

“Yeah, fool… I’m hella’ hungry though…,” said Calvin. I took another look at the menu, and pulled out my wallet in agreement. Those crappy burgers were looking tastier by the minute…

 

We met up with Nate outside of the bathroom and hustled it back to our seats, just minutes before intermission ended. As I was chewing my slightly tough burger patty, the lights darkened, and Roger stepped back onstage. The heartbeats of “Speak to Me/Breathe” had begun. At this, every fan leapt to his feet once again. By this point it bugged me, because I wanted to rest my feet, and feed my belly.  Unfortunately, they never sat down, and I ended up missing most of the concert’s visuals.

When I glanced up to the jumbo-tron, I noticed something about Roger’s attitude… and I didn’t like it.  Every note he played he over emphasized with a big stupid grin on his face. The lighting on all the other instrumentalists shadowed the musicians faces. This seemed really self-centered, and pissed me off quite a bit.  On top of all that, these Two latecomers stood behind us getting drunk and rambling like idiots. They chatted amongst themselves loudly, occasionally quoting a line they knew.  I realized that as I listened to Dark Side of the Moon being played right in front of me… I would probably enjoy it more at home with these same friends.  Without a doubt, this dropped my spirits to the ground.

“I like saxophone!” the idiot spewed, as the sax solo started in “Us and Them” From that point on, I tried my best to tune out my senses.

 As we began to stumble off of the lawn towards the exit, it dawned on all of us that we had a very long, dark, and boring walk back to the hotel. FUCK.

            My feet throbbed in protest of standing any longer. I slipped the key into the door handle, and the green light beckoned me inside.  I piled into the hotel room, encouraged by 4 equally fatigued, tired, dizzy teenagers.  When I flicked on the television, I was met with a flick of jack’s middle finger, along with a few other indecipherable groans.  Clearly, the previous plans of an after-show party were less than universally desired. 

            “Please dude, turn off the fucking TV.”

            I’m not too sure who said it, but I complied. With a flick of my thumb, the Television clicked off, and the poorly lit hotel room grew that much darker.  In the gloom, a grumpy Gus lay slumped on the floor, next to a night stand. Jack and Nate nestled into their queen size bed at the far end of the room.  Cal and I mirrored them, and we crawled under the other queen’s covers, fully clothed.

            I reached over to turn out the bedside light, the last source beating back the pressing darkness.  I glanced at the clock before I pulled the lamp’s switch.  3:20 AM. Jesus Christ. Tomorrow is gonna’ suck. It couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds before the night rushed through my mind, knocking me out cold.

 

            I woke up from my sleep in a haze. Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the clock; 9:11 AM, it read.  After a few quick calculations in my head I figured that IF we get up in 20 minutes, leave 40 minutes after that… an hour drive back… I should get back to school before the end of lunch.

            About 25 minutes passed, and everyone slept just as heavily as they had all night.  Not wanting to disturb them, I flicked on the TV and turned it to discovery channel, and turned down the volume.  Jack and Nate groaned from their bed, and Gus cursed me out from about 2 feet away.  When I turned off “Discovering mummies,” I noticed that Cal was awake and had been watching the TV happily. I remembered that he wakes up for sports at like, 5:30 AM every day… no wonder he was up.

            “Hey man, you wanna play bones?” whispered Cal, as he held up a set of dominoes he had in his backpack.

            “Oh, fa’sho’,” I whispered. “Here, help me clear off some space”

            We threw the blankets off the bed, clearing a spot for us to play the game I only kind-of understood.  We played without keeping an official score for a good 40 minutes, as everyone arose with sluggish, groggy movements, their limbs weighed down by last night’s fun.  Cal won 5 more points as we finished up the final round. By this time, everyone was up and cleaning up the hotel room. We had left a substantial mess, worthy of 5 partying teenagers.

            After cleaning up the trash we left, and while packing up our stuff, we voted that Jack should be the one to deal with the clerk and check us out (after all, it was his mom who made the reservation). The last bottle clinked into the dreadfully undersized wastebasket. I zipped up my bag, and waited a minute or two for everyone else to pack the last of their shit up.

            Jack returned at 10:46, just 3 minutes after he’d left.  Apparently, the clerk was pretty glad to be rid of us, and didn’t give Jack any grief over checking out.  In fact, he had been very helpful this time around, telling Jack that there was a Denny’s just down the street (the continental breakfast had ended about an hour earlier). We all grabbed our stuff, and headed out of the stuffy hotel room. As we walked to the car, we were greeted by a cool breeze and the warm autumn sun. I was lucky enough to call “shotgun,” but only got it for the ride to breakfast.

            “You can have it for now, but there’s no way in hell you get to ride up front on the ride back. You got it the whole way up,” Jack argued.

            His argument made perfect sense, and I agreed with a curt “fine.”  I tucked my binder into the backseat pocket so I could work on my homework later.  I buckled my seatbelt, and all four doors were slammed shut.

            Our white civic growled to life, and pulled out of the Super 8 parking lot onto the main road, towards a delicious, rather late breakfast. We began our drive northward along the main boulevard. After we drove for about 15 minutes, we started to have some doubts…

            “Dude, I don’t see the Denny’s,” Nate observed. “Are you sure that dick clerk didn’t just tell us there was a Denny’s somewhere around here, just to make us leave?”

            That’s ridiculous, I wanted to respond, but the fact was I had my own doubts.  10 more hungry minutes passed by, and there was still no sign of any breakfast joint: only banks, sandwich shops, and Chinese restaurants. 

            “Dude, fuck this,” Gus growled as we neared a sign for the freeway, “That jackass lied to us.” He began pulling to the freeway turnoff lane when, as if his obscenities were a magic spell, the green and gold sign of the Denny’s peered out from the sidewalk, a few hundred yards down the street.

            A large Screeeeech announced the car’s aversion to the freeway as it swung back into the left lane.  We drove down a few more blocks, and pulled a U-ie, doubling back into the Denny’s parking lot.  The aroma of eggs and sausage filled the air, and the five of us piled out of the small sedan like a gang of clowns, charging towards the front door of the restaurant.

            Once inside, our table began filling with saliva, as the 5 ravenous teenagers peered at their infinite options laid before them in the menu. With a quick check on my wallet, my fears were confirmed. I had spent all but a buck fifty at the concert. Shit.  “Hey Calvin, mind if I buy a few bucks to buy a milkshake, I ain’t got any money.”

            “Aw, yeah man, of course!” he responded, clearly in high spirits.

For the next 15 minutes, our party chatted excitedly about all the options we had for amazing food.  “Aww, this one is only 7 bucks, and comes with pancakes AND bacon!”  “This French toast looks aMAZEing!” “Aww man, I’m in more of a French toast mood.” “I’d be down for some OJ right now” “Oh, me too!” “Yeah, I’m hella thirsty”

We also began pulling out cell phones, and texting people about our location… after all, it was third period, and we wanted to make some mouths water. Eventually we finished makeing our decisions, and our taunts, but in those 15 minutes, no waiter had so much as approached our table.

“That’s bullshit, guys,” I complained, “Look, those people came in after us, and they’re getting served first.” It didn’t take much longer for a slightly rushed waitress to hurry over to our table, and rattle off a quick apology for the wait.

“I apologize for how long it took,” She said, ”How about you guys get your drinks on the house?”

            Our eyes lit up like fluorecent lamps.

            “Okay, I’ll have some orange juice, then!”

“Me too!”

“Yeah, same here”

“I’ll have a large, please”

“I’ll have a chocolate milkshake,” I told her, sticking to my original decision. I didn’t figure she’d give away that for free, but I still couldn’t buy a platter, and I knew OJ wouldn’t be a full breakfast.

Everyone ordered, and we chatted happily until the food arrived. Once people had their food set in front of them, all conversation ceased, and we began devouring gleefully.  I patiently sipped my milkshake, until people started getting full. As they ate slower, the conversation built up, and I was able to could grab their leftover pancakes, eggs, or whatever.

The check came, and we all smiled big, toothy grins. Me especially. She hadn’t charged a dime for the drinks, even my milkshake. That meant I got my breakfast for free!  I left the little money I did have as a tip, thanking our waitress as we left. I pushed the heavy wood door open, and we headed towards our ride. We’d almost reached the car, when a distinct riiing called out from Nate’s pocket.

Strange, I thought, someone calling him now? Lunch hasn’t even started. Heheh, must be someone bitching about a text message.

As he answered, we realized that it was in regards to a lady-friend of his. Not a girlfriend per-se, but he filled us in on the details. “See, it’s this girl I went to camp with, and haven’t seen in a long while. As it turns out, she goes to school in Palo Alto, right next to Stanford.”

We glanced down the street at the “Welcome to Palo Alto” sign a hundred fifty feet away.

“I told her where we are, and she wants to meet up with me.”

“Uhh… how are you going to get back to Berkeley?” Gus questioned.

“She said she would give me a ride back,” he assured “I’ll be fine”

We all hopped in the car, Jack up front, and drove off into Palo Alto to find Nate’s lady-friend’s school. It took about 10 minutes of driving to find the preppy school.  it was directly across the street from the massive well kempt field, and half dozen tennis courts.

We pulled into the parking lot in front of the main office, where the girl was waiting. We all introduced ourselves from our seats in the car and Nate hopped out, giving us a curt “See’ya later, man. Enjoy the ride back.” Cal scooted to the left, now that there were only two people in the back seat; suddenly, the car seemed a great deal roomier.

As we snickered about how ugly we thought she really was, the car revved up, and went screeching out of the lot.  We drove along the classroom buildings lining the main street, as the private school kids walked to the cafeteria.

“07! Berkeley, bitches! East bay, whoo!” we hollered, as we drove off down the main street. The car hummed loudly as it pulled up a north 101 on-ramp, merging onto the freeway.  I felt a pang of urgency as I saw my binder in the seat pouch in front of me. I whipped out a pencil, and got to work on my lab report. The rolled down windows, and highway winds whipped my hair back, as Sublime sounds rushed out of the car speakers.

“Damn, fool. It’s such a nice day. There’s no way I’m goin’ back to school,” said Jack.

“I don’t even have a sixth… there’s be no point in me going,” replied Gus

“Me too,” echoed Cal.

I knew I had to get back to school, but that didn’t bug me. I checked the time on my cell phone. 12:20, it read. I thought about it, and realized I would get back to fifth period in time to work with my group, and that I had time to get my work done in the car. Everyone had sunshine on their faces, myself included.  The concert was fine, and the walk was fun, but the real point of the trip was the trip itself; the adventure with friends, the excitement of a road trip, no matter how short.  On top of that, it seemed as though my work would get finished as well.  As I dove into my physics book, a smile grew across my face, a smile that would not soon fade. The trip would be remembered for a long time to come.