When Elsie wasn't drunk and I wasn't bitchy we really had fun. The music, playing together was a gas. Traveling with Elsie was always fun. We laughed so hard sometimes I couldn't breathe. I love a man with a sense of humor. I love a man who loves a sense of humor. Mine.
Elsie was quite the yard guy. He believed in letting nature do it's thing but keeping it at bay. Our yard looked like a little tropical world. He could grow dead plants. I could kill the healthiest weed in the universe. Still we somehow seemed to fit. I could see us growing old together. Or killing each other.
Playing in bars added to my frustration with drunks. It is a unique perspective. On stage observing the crowd. Perfectly sober and fun people become loud and obnoxious. People get so drunk they can't walk a straight line. Weaving to the bathrooms was very common. Groups of people weaving to the bathrooms at the same time very common. Cocaine is a bathroom habit. YAY, wired drunks! Drunks get loud because everything they have to say is important. We weren't singing club rock, we were a vocal band, acoustic, a group to listen to. Oh well, I was happy to just hold one table's attention. We would always say, "thank you table 7", when the crowd was LOUD with great stories of the time the guy picked up the transvestite in New Orleans and when "disagreements" happened. Yeah, it was still fun but sad to watch.
I had learned early in my time on stage that drinking alcohol was a hindrance to performance. Falling off the stool is a distraction and the audience never thinks it's part of the show. Had to sleep in the car for a while that night. This is when I learned about "the spins". No thank you. Never again.
I felt stretched to my limit and Guitar Man had a problem that annoyed me. He thought he was perfect and a STAR and I often wanted to vomit on him. I hate that attitude. There is no "I" in band. There is however "bad". I was starting to want him to shut up bad. One day he disappeared. No goodbye, no wishing us dead, just gone. OK, I was too tired anyway. I had one last on stage thrill. One night my parents came to see us play and brought some of their friends. When the time came for Summertime which was now done in honor of Jeff with a cello moan that could make you weep I nailed it. The crowd rose as one and gave me standing O. With my daddy there. And his friends. So much for note sliding sounding bad. Pretty sure he was proud. He didn't so much say that as stand himself to applaud his little girl.
I also had one more off stage thrill. People would hang out until the bar closed and ask you to please snort their cocaine. Well, OK. If I must. One night someone invited us to a party after our last set. Cool, we were wired anyway. When we arrived at least an ounce of cocaine had been lined out on a huge table with straws everywhere. Helpy selfy. I did. Can't let the cocaine be left over. That's just wrong.
Bad plan. Leave the cocaine. Do not make sure it is all gone. Just a piece of advice from a former snorter.
When Elsie and I got home I was freezing and sweating bullets. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all. I was mute. No way to express how I was feeling. The ringing in my ears was constant and seemed so loud, like a beehive in my head. When I could finally talk I sounded very far away. I had my deathbed request ready: "DO NOT LET MY PARENTS KNOW I DIED FROM A COCAINE OVERDOSE". "Just tell them I ran away with another man. They will believe that. Bury me in the back yard, PLEASE".
Elsie assured me I would live and left me in my semi-coma to go to bed and crash. I promised every God I could think of that I would never, ever touch cocaine again if only I didn't die right then, however, if I was going to die, please get it over with.
That was the end of my cocaine problem. No straw has penetrated my nostrils since that day.
Drinking problem got worse and soon every one of Elsie's friends thought my head should be displayed on a pike. I wanted to be their moral compass too. They were not at all appreciative.
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