Part Eighteen: I can't stop laughing

I always kind of wished my school held Sadie Hawkins Dances when I was a lad because it'd be interesting to A. be asked in the first place and B. see who'd be doing the asking. A friend out of pity? A legit romantic interest? A gal who was looking for whomever she could so she wouldn't be embarrassed going alone? The mind races with possibilities, especially considering the unique position I held in that I was an unabashed geek/nerd/whathaveyou and my core friends were much the same, although we all had our own interests and things going on but came together on some major things like Star Wars, comic books and video games. (Anyone remember playing GoldenEye multiplayer, The Facility using proximity mines? HELL YES.) and despite this geekery I was somewhat of a notable figure in high school. Not like captain of the football team or prom king or something; we didn't even have a football team. No, I was notable in the fact that more or less everyone knew who I was and that was really pretty bizarre to me. Part of it may have been that I had cultivated friendships with kids all over the place and in different groups or cliques or whatever you call them where you're from. Also, most of my best friends were girls and that befuddled many of my guy friends and some would ask me stuff like "Hey, how do you do it? How do you talk to girls?" and I never had a concrete answer because I didn't know it was a thing. Mostly I think the key is just listening. Listening, not waiting for your turn to talk. Big difference. That skill (?) helped me greatly in the world of bands and playing shows and being on tour because you have to talk with strangers every day and your livelihood literally depends on it. Want gas or food money? Go out there and sell some merch, kid. That's why I could never buy the idea of the mythical unattainable rock star: how are you getting money to buy a meal in Mishawaka, Indiana if you're by yourself, brooding and not talking to anyone? Yeah, I could talk to people and get smiles and laughs and such and I'd get questions as to how that was possible and I'm still not sure. There definitely wasn't a whole lot of confidence there, at least when it came to talking to the ladies, but I managed to do it anyway. For awhile I'd bring my guitar EVERYWHERE and play in the halls before school, during lunch, after school, and at times people would approach and ask what I was playing and that seemed to be a nice ice breaker. Hmm, maybe that's how I got to be "that guy" in school, I suppose that'd be a topic of conversation for school kids: "Hey, who's that guy that sings songs all day long? Oh him? That's Paddy Murphy." "Ahh..." One time our health/gym teacher Mr. Averill was asking what I was playing at lunch one day and my friends and I told him "Oh, the Ataris, Get Up Kids, Jimmy Eat World..." and he was writing it down to check out later. Took a few minutes to make him realize the name of the band was Jimmy EAT World, not Jimmy Eats World, or Jimmy Eats The World, or Jimmy Eat Worlds, etc. He was a funny guy, Ave. From there you can extrapolate going from talking about songs I was playing or writing and getting into different bits to talk about. It was senior year when it hit me that people who I didn't know knew who I was and as I said before, that seemed really bizarre to me. On a grander scale the same thing happens from being in bands. The best/creepiest example I can think of happened in 2010, I believe, at the local library here in Dover. Kelley and I were in line to check out some books and these two kids come up the stairs to the main lobby, take a look at us and start whispering "Oh my God, that's Paddy..." and various other bits. Now, by 2010 I had been out of the game for about two years which made this even more crazy but it's not the first time that has happened, be it at the library, the grocery store, the mall, shows, bars, etc. Having strangers  know my name and think they know something about me is very, very bizarre.

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Yesterday marked one of my rare established, non-emergency related visits to Lahey and more specifically to see Dr. Marcello. Ah, Pete, you old sea dog, you. As is not often the case Kelley had the day off so we made the trek together, ruing her faulty tape player/adapter for sounding like someone gargling broken glass because we're old fashioned and use the tape thing to listen to the iPod in the car and not one of the fancy FM transmitters. Those things are expensive, people, and we like our years-old technology. I tend to feel guilty when anyone comes to visit me when I'm a guest at the Lahey Clinic because it's so damn expensive to  both get down and stay down there. First there's the toll in Hampton on I-95, that's $2 both ways, then the parking in the garage at the hospital which is tiered as such:

$2 for one hour.
$5 for 2-5 hours.
$8 for a day pass.
Or it's $5 for 2-3 hours and $8 from then on. Either way, it adds up.

And let's not forget the gas (who can't, at these prices lately amIright?) which gets used at 120 miles round trip and can also get expensive if the car doesn't have terribly good mileage. Kelley's car gets probably 30 mpg on the highway but her parents or my parents both have SUV's and that can get a bit on the pricey side. Hell, one of my friends just came into a HUGE Toyota SUV (I'm blanking on the name) that gets on average 15 mpg. That's disgusting. That's about what we got driving a 15 passenger van with a 12-foot packed trailer in the old days. Sheesh. Back to the task at hand:

We get to the hospital more or less right on time and make it up to Dr. Marcello's office. There's a bit of a line so Kelley and I wait patiently for our turn and (I didn't see this but she swears it's true) an older woman in line ahead of us turns, gives her, or us, a look down and does the "hmmph" thing, as in: "Oh dear, those TATTOOED people." I'm a fairly accepting person and I've long-accepted that I've done/said things or look like someone that puts people off but seriously? In this day and age? I say this with the utmost sincerity:

Fuck off you old cooz.

My lady is beautiful and yes, she's got some pretty pictures on her skin. I can TOTALLY see how that offends you. Bitch. That kind of thing makes me hope these people fall into an open elevator shaft. I truly wish I would have noticed or Kelley would have pointed it out to me at the time because I absolutely would have said something. My personal best/worst/funniest/best again experience with someone like that was way back when I was 19 or 20 working at Ace Hardware and a woman that I was helping told me that I was going to going to Hell for having tattoos and piercings. Now, being on the clock I had to bite my tongue a bit but I did say "Well ma'am, God and I understand each other and he's ok with it so thanks but no thanks for your concern." The nerve or some people.
After a bit of a wait I was called into one of the examination rooms and I got a little confused because what lay in front of me looked like either some strange tubed camera machine or a suction machine. Dr. Marcello's usual bag is colon/rectal surgery so I was taken aback. Just then Dr. Keri walked by and said "Hey! How's it going?" Immediately I looked at her, looked at the machine and asked "What the FUCK is that thing?" She looks at it and says "Oh that? Don't worry, it's always in here." See, I love that I can talk like a complete rude asshole to my doctors and they just know it's how I am. Not to say that I'm an asshole, though I'm sure some people would say I am, but being frank and normal with people is a good thing. Finally Dr. Marcello came in and we had a quick "how's it going?" I told him that my tubes have really been bothering me and I haven't been on the feeds for a few weeks, hoping that he'd finally pull them. Alas, that was not the case. He wanted to wait a bit longer before pulling them because putting them back in if necessary would be a lot bigger deal than just leaving them in longer. Begrudgingly I agreed but damnit, Jim, I'm not a doctor, I'm a sufferer!

One thing I will say about having to go to Burlington: it gives us the chance to taste some of the exotic cuisine denied to us up here in the Great White North of New Hampshire. Things like Chik-Fil-A, Spike's Hot Dogs, Pizzeria Regina, Five Guys...oh the tasty treats denied to us 603 Philistines.

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Ok, last unrelated story for the day. This entry has taken me three days to write or something.

Over the past few days I've actually gotten to hang out with friends and get out of the house. BRILLIANT! (as they say in the world of Harry Potter.) Reconnecting with Angel has been one of the best things...I know I've mentioned him here before and if I haven't, one of these days I'll run through the People's History of Angel Smith (or Ahn-heil, as they pronounce it in some circles.) There are a handful of people that I've met in my lifetime that I know I was supposed to meet. Just genuinely good people that have had a profound affect on me. He is one of them. I made the analogy to Kelley's parents last night that if I were bleeding on the floor and needed to go to the hospital and Kelley wasn't around, he'd be the first person I'd call. One of the most selfless people I've ever met and would do anything for a real friend. I am honored and fortunate to call myself as such. Plus he knows Dave Martin from Top Chef season one and it'd be rad to hang out with that dude sometime.

Also, yesterday I got to spend a little time with Ryan (former singer of Team Minus Scale) and his dear sweet wife Enslin. That's another entry in itself, the Story of Ryan, Enslin, and Team Minus Scale. She's having some issues of her own and has had to have some blood work done and apparently she has an irrational fear of IV's so she was telling me horror stories of having to have blood taken, IV contrast for CT scans, etc. That's a far cry from my experiences so it was nice and different to hear the other side of the coin, though it's unfortunate that she has to go through that business. We had to drive her to her car because the experience of having IV work done freaks her out enough that she can't drive afterwards. What a nice hubby that Ryan Levasseur is. After the Enslin-delivery mission we headed to Portsmouth to go to Bull Moose where we ran into Derek again. Ryan did quite a bit of vinyl-shopping and Derek and I got to chat for a bit. See, being who we are we can get...playful at times. Ryan mentioned something about teaching kids Defeater songs (he's a guitar teacher, mind you.) and I took that as a cue to put on my pseudo-asshole hat and say in my best radio/interviewer voice "So, Derek, how does it feel to be the mouthpiece of the 'thinking man's hardcore band', Defeater?" and he gave me the most priceless, precious "fuck you, asshole" look. He knows I kid and I have the utmost respect for that band.

During our Portsmouth trek Ryan and I had a bite to eat and we got to talking about band things, old times, etc. and the subject of being in touch with old band friends came up and he said something profoundly true that I either forgot or never really dawned on me in the first place: were they ever really friends, in the true sense, or just acquaintances that we hung out with from time to time? Sure, I made very real friendships with different people in other bands but he's right. Yeah, we were friendly with lots of people but if we weren't talking shop what was there really to talk about? I think about this as I reconnect with people, especially if and when they find out I'm sick. My bullshit filter is usually on high gear and I can tell if people are actually concerned and care of if they just ask because they feel guilty. Ryan also put it this way, it's kind of like a one-upper in conversation because really, how do you top "yeah...I almost died. A few times. What's up with you?" Now, it is not my intention to wear it as some sort of badge of honor or "hey, feel sorry for me" conversation piece but I worry that it's perceived as such. I lived through something fairly traumatic that I still don't really wrap my head around. Kind of fucks you up a bit, to be honest. Maybe that's what freaks people out, if that's even the right way to look at it. I've been through something that most people will never go through and really, how do you talk about that if you have no frame of reference? Ah, the joys of life-altering circumstances.

Alright, that's enough for now. I feel kind of sweaty and need to change and Kelley's downstairs probably watching Arrested Development. Toodles, kiddos.