Chapter One: Nick Finds His Privates
The passage of time depends on which side of the bathroom door you are on. I was on the wrong side just one second short of breaking into the hop-up-and-down dance. Considering the fullness of my bladder it would have been an impressive feat. What the hell was Dr. Prade doing in there? Whatever it was it took an unbelievable amount of time. This sent my overactive mind into high inquisitive mode. I knew the things I did on the other side of a bathroom door and the approximate time for each endeavor. Time wise she was closest to....nah....no way! She was a girl. I knew it, I just knew it! I should have bought into rubber glove stock while I had the chance.
“Nicky, what ya doing?”
“Considering I’m standing outside a closed bathroom door with my hands clutching my groin, what do you think I’m doing, Howie?” The first in my new “reduce stress” exercise was to get things off my chest. Just don’t think them, say them!
“You don’t have to be a smart ass. I was just trying to make conversation.” Oh...Howie’s all huffy.
I just rolled my eyes. In this case I believed the nonverbal affect display would communicate volumes more than any spoken language. Dr. Prade’s lectures were starting to rub off on me, or at least my vocabulary.
I saw Brain and Kevin catch Howie on his way to the front of the bus. A furious, low-volume conversation broke out. No doubt Howie was getting it, big time. No one was suppose to upset Nick. BSB rule number 137 was new. He who stresses out Nick must spend no less than forty-five minutes in deep Kevin lecture mode. AJ claimed it was cruel and unusual punishment and should be abolished. Kevin claim AJ’s strangely morphing hair should be abolished as the constant change was surely contributing to Nick’s stress. Thus far we had a stand off. Both the Kevin lectures and AJ’s color-form hair were in full swing.
Howie flopped on a seat and was joined by none other than Max. It seems that JC’s Basset had taken a shine to Howie, and Howie was none to pleased. Basset’s, it seems, give off a distinct “musky” order. They also shed...year round, and quite a bit. The first time Howie found black and brown hairs all over his precious white silk shirt he almost shit. Max did. On Howie’s new brown loafers.
Wack! The door made sudden impact with the back of my head. We had only been back on tour for three days and none of us had adjusted to the fact that Little Miss Janette Cecilia Prade (and who did she think she was with that fancy name?) did every thing with complete and total conviction.. not to mention a great deal of enthusiasm...and strength.
“Sorry Nick!” That’s it! She is really going to get it this time! Yea, I wish I could give it to her, but there was something about Doctor/Patient ethics in that agreement we all signed.
“It’s OK.” I’m a glutton for punishment. That’s why I’m still with the band. “Excuse me.” I really needed in there.
The best thing about this tour, having a CD that was so well received by our fans, and thank you one and all, was the improvement of the bathroom facilities. On the last tour the rest room was so small when you unzipped you kept bumping your elbows on the walls. This one was so large three people could fit in it comfortably, and five in a tight squeeze (as we discovered on the first night, much to Leigh Anne’s disgust). The commode was actually in a stall, which was all good as JC decided this was a lovely place for therapy.
I unzipped and started my business. Ahhhhh...sweet relief. One thing you might want to know about me is that I’m a private guy, about some things. Like peeing.
“Nicky!” Another thing you might want to know about guys is once we start peeing we can’t stop. What we can do is be so startled we miss our target.
“SHIT!” Now I’ll have to clean the floor. Kevin has a hard and fast rule, he who cannot hit the water can hold it until the next stop, and be damned if it was two days away. The rule used to be he who cannot hit the water can damn well use the window, but that almost got AJ arrested.
“Really? Sounded like number one to me.”
“I’m so glad your hearing is in good shape.” Off the chest, off the chest.
“Nick, are you tense?”
“JC, what do you want?”
“We have a session in five minutes. I wanted to be sure you remembered. I don’t want to miss one Nick. You just been so uptight today.”
First, WHERE was I going to go on the bus that she couldn’t find me outside the bathroom? Like our bus was a vast tundra. Second, how do you tell your shrink she is the reason you’re tense?
“I’ll be there.”
“Back of the bus, right after the bunks!” JC had this habit of telling me where things were. Things I already knew the position of. Such as my penis. You see, the night before JC had explained to me, after she crawled into my bunk to see if I was “all settled in”, that a great way to reduce stress and therefore get sleep (she didn’t think I was getting enough) was to....masturbate. Really. She told me that. Wow. I .... had ... no ... idea. I guess the look on my face must have given her this impression as she then, and in great detail, described how one could accomplish such a feat. This was accompanied by expressive facial displays, as well as a variety of interesting gestures. These included pointing to my crotch and saying “penis” a total of seven times. I now know where my penis is. Watch out world.
I debated suggesting that a blow job would have much the same impact, but I held back. I’m not sure if I was afraid she would slap me, or accommodate me.
As I turned on the water to wash my hands I glanced at the mirror. There it was, Janette’s “how to cope with stress” suggestion for the day. Today it was “jam miniature marshmallows up your nose and sneeze them out. See how many you can do at once.” Gee, I feel better already.