George Hamm had this gig in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It’s just outside of Bar harbor, and it is absolutely beautiful. So George, Al Klemick (Klemmer), Steve Caouette (Cow) and myself went to the gig, which sucked for me, because I had urinated moments before I went up, and got hasty when I went to zip up. A big wet spot formed around my crotch, and I was being introduced. I went up on stage, trying to hide it with my leather jacket and untucked shirt. I think it worked, but needless to say, I couldn’t focus on my material, and the audience wasn’t buying it. Whatever, right? What happens AFTER the gig is always better anyway.

The locals took a liking to us and decided to take us to Bar Harbor and get us drunk. There were no objections. We hit every bar in town, and stayed at the Karaoke bar. I forget the name, and what we drank, but I remember singing Folsom prison Blues with George and doing some patented Shaner high kicks.

Steve does great impressions, especially Neil Diamond, and he got up and sang “You don’t bring me flowers.” He rocked the house, and he knew it. Everyone was amazed at this prodigal son, and they told him. Steve is as modest as the day is warm, but the compliments filled his melon a bit that night. The girls were begging him to sing another, and he was completely nonchalant about it. I found this hilarious, and I told him. We had a good laugh. He sang “Coming to America” after that, and Hammy and I decided to to try to get everyone to dance. They weren’t buying into it, mainly because I dance like an assshole, and George is George. Enough said.

The good people of Bar Harbor took us back to the hotel later, and the hotel was this ritzy, rustic place that fetches $400 a night in the summer. We were amazed that this dump cost that much, but yet didn’t even have a TV. Had a nice view, but that shit gets old. I want HBO. The place looked exactly like the Shining. I expected two blonde twins on tricycles to come around the corner and yell “redrum”. Needless to say, this didn’t take away from my sense of adventure.

Al and I took a tour of the place, blasted out of our gourds, and for some reason, I developed an affinity for linen. I took some towels, placed them under my coat, and then I went for pillows, then blankets. My jacket was bursting with all of this crap, and Al was pleading with me, asking me to cut the shit, but he couldn’t stop laughing either. I waltzed through the million dollar lobby with about ten dollars of their stuff and I was laughing so hard I was drooling. Funny stuff.

What’s better is that I utilize everything in my house currently. What a classy guy.