Funny story # 1:

So a few years ago I started going on these trips each summer. For the most part it was to follow Phish for a couple of weeks. The first time I went, I was to go by myself for a week and a half, come back to Boston, and then go to upstate Maine with a couple of friends. I never really tell these stories, as to some people they may seem a bit strange. So the first night I got to Maryland and stayed in this Super 8, or something like it. There was an attractive �metal looking chick� working the desk. (well, when I say �metal looking chick�, I guess I mean a girl with long feathered back hair, so how about a �Fleetwood Mac chick� that sounds a little better.) So I check in, it�s my first night of doing one of these long trips, and it�s the 4th of July. I�m right near Antietam, home of one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. There is going to be this big fireworks display there. That kind of creeps me out in a strange ironic kind of way, but is consistent with much of America and it�s silly way it does things. I ask the girl at the counter �where�s all the excitement around here?� She answers, �the mall I guess�. Hmmm. I guess I head to the mall, I don�t really care much for fireworks anyway. So I go in and put all of my belongings in the room( if memory serves correct this was the most miserable of the �bringing the shit into the room� ritual that happened each time I got to a new city. I made it much more efficient towards the end of my trip [i.e. �do I really need to bring the dirty laundry into the room as well as three novels I haven�t even touched yet?�] ) and make my way to where �all the excitement is� in Haggerstown, Maryland. The mall proves to be a haven for people struck with the disease of boredom. I walk around for a little while, noticing how similar it is to the ones back home. How the people just talk a little different, and maybe dress a little different. What I see the most of though, are teenagers. Me being me, I wore my baseball hat backwards, and made sure I was dressed a little bit �strange�. Perhaps meeting some people engrossed in this �excitement� I heard so much about from little miss Stevie Nicks back at the motel (�what time was she getting out?� is more what I should have asked her, but the gold butterfly charm on a necklace and a ruffled white shirt kind of threw me for a tail spin, she did have a nice face, and a pleasant, but rough demeanor about her) . I made my way to the cd shop which was a complete travesty, but I�m not going to waste the time on that. Well, fuck, maybe I will. Who puts Sinatra in the jazz section? The same people that put DJ Shadow in hip hop, The Outlaws in country, and the worst travesty of them all, Black Sabbath under �pop-rock�, instead of it�s rightful place in HEAVY METAL. Sure, one could argue that the MC5 or Led Zeppelin were the first �metal� band, but anyone with any amount of respect for these four pioneers from England named Tony Iommi, William �Geezer� Butler, Bill Ward, and John �Ozzy� Osbourne would have put them in their rightful home. Shame on Sam Goody! So I�m walking around listening to Britney Spears or Backstreet Boys type stuff under these bright classroom florescent lights amongst clerks in black vests and �crazy ties� (the managers get to wear bow ties. Nothing says �I never have sex� more than a bow tie btw.). So I see these two girls looking at a David Bowie CD. They catch me looking over, (I wasn�t staring, we just met eyes at the same time) and walk over to me. The obligatory remark about tattoos kicks off the conversation, and we�re off. I end up hanging out in the store with them for a little while. I�m thinking they must be pretty young though�maybe seventeen or so I gather. They then do the inevitable, �can we get a ride downtown?� I reply �ummm, yeah sure why not, how far is it?� They assure me it�s �right down the street� They already know I�m from Boston in town for the night as I told them that right away as I always feel I need to explain that to anyone I meet when I�m away �I live all the way in Boston. You know, BOSTON. We are a big city we�re right under New York, and Los Angeles, and Chicago. The Boston.� So we go out to the car, after walking through the mall and them stopping to talk to various friends and strangers with Korn t-shirts and Wu Tang Clan hats on. Thankfully, I had been listening to the radio, and it was some local hard rock/new music type station. Imagine the task of having to explain Sun Ra or Captain Beefheart if that was in the cd player when the car was turned on! I already lied and said I was �a writer, journalist. I�m doing an article in �some stupid travel magazine� about Maryland. They buy this story, thankfully I was wearing the baseball hat and had some notebooks in the back seat. So we start driving and the ask to stop and buy cigarettes. I figure, no big deal. �Oh, I have to go in and get cigarettes for you because you�re what? Only 16? Oh, okay, sure� I go in and get her Camel Lights and come back to the car. They have a new idea �Hey, let�s hang out!� I quickly try to think of how long I would go to jail if I was caught out of state with two 16 year old girls in my car with marijuana in my pocket�I can�t do that, so I agree. It�s now about 9pm. We go and get some coffee at a Dunkin Donuts (my first down �south�). Sitting in the place for a while talking about what they do day to day in Hagerstown and what I do day to day in �Cambridge, right where I live, it�s outside of Boston, Harvard is there�. Eventually, some boy comes in. Those big wide pants, a long sleeve thick t-shirt with an alien on it and some sort of skateboard logo of sorts. His name is �slug� or something like that. The girls were named Jess, and Alissa. Those are young names. I can�t imagine an elderly woman named Alissa. Jess knows this boy well, in fact so well, she goes outside, and never returns. Alissa and I are kind of just sitting there. She tells me she always does this with him. He sells ecstasy apparently. I then notice it�s getting hear midnight, and should probably go home. She asks what I want to do now. I say I should probably get back. She says �that�s a good idea� Driving in the car for a few minutes I realized �that�s a good idea� meant �That would be a good idea if WE went back to your room� I�m now thinking this girl must be crazy. Not to put myself down, but I certainly would not go back to a hotel room if I didn�t know me! Anyway, I cave in and say �yeah, sure, but I need to go to sleep pretty early, I need to leave for Baltimore pretty early� We get to the room, I thankfully don�t have to walk by the Fleetwood Mac girl with this obviously very young girl. The TV is on, and I have shit all over the place. I sit at the table they have there and we continue talking about her ex-boyfriend that she was telling me about in the car. It�s all sort of trivial stuff, typical problems of �he said she said� stuff. She goes and lays on the bed amongst my bags and magazines and books and pens and ashtrays. �hey can I stay here?� �Ummm, no, not a great idea, I really need to get to sleep soon� �Come on, I don�t want to DO ANYTHING, I just don�t feel like going home tonight� I consider the absurdity of the whole thing and come out with �No, you should probably go. I like you, you�re a nice kid and all, but, not a good idea�legally� I come right out and say it. She laughs and says she understands and gets up. I give her a pleasant hug at the door after letting her use the phone to call a friend for a ride. What a strange situation when the door closed. There I was, my first night away and I am with some complete stranger I would never see again. Someone from a completely different world. Pretty much normal American teenage girls. I would have hung with a 69 year old man just for the company and views on life that day though. Sure it was the first day, so I wasn�t really lonely yet. That was just a strange night that I never really talked about, as I always think people would think I was a freak or something. But I was more concerned with just having a stranger in my room, amongst all the cash and belongings I had, than me ending up having sex. I knew she wasn�t looking for anything like that. Perhaps a little na�ve, but I think she�ll do alright, she had an open mind, and was intelligent and pleasant. She made a good friend for the night anyway, even if I did lie about where I actually lived, and what it was I was doing in Maryland.

Funny Story # 2:

You were short. You were tiny. Not as short as most, but shorter than me anyway. Your hair was copper and your teeth were crooked. You fooled me. You became my best friend, and then surprised me. You came right out and told me a secret. Days later I knew your schedule, and I knew what you looked like up close. Days later I was calling you for hours, you were calling me for hours, I was picking you up at work. We were spending time. None of our friends knew about it. You weren�t shy. You sure weren�t shy with anything. We hung around like this for a few months. One night we went to the airport to look at planes and you told me. You told me it was over. It was over because we were different people, and you couldn�t be involved with anyone right now. An airplane flew over us, and everything you said went over my head, and I didn�t go home and cry, I went home and ate dinner by myself, read a few pages, shut the light and went to bed, not really looking forward to work the following morning.

Funny Story # 3:

We were the same height I think. Your hair was also copper, but your teeth were straight and white. You were a horrible kisser, despite the rumors. It was all a blur that whole thing. It was nights of me being hot in your apartment sweating and dizzy kissing you for three or four hours and going home the sun coming up and birds keeping me from falling asleep. You made no claim to be my girlfriend, and I didn�t either. I was supposed to pick you up at the airport one day. You called me and told me that your ex-boyfriend was coming to get you, you were getting back together with him. I told you to have a pleasant evening in some way, hung up the phone, and went to bed not really looking forward to work the next morning, but I knew I had to do it.

Funny Story # 4:

You were short. Your hair was dyed copper, I can�t say I remember your teeth. I remember you having the most amazing mouth, and still being the best kisser in the world hands down. The rumors were true about you. The other rumors however, were not true. What the fuck did you do to me? Leave me fucking standing there with the blood of about five people all over my hands. Leaving me standing there to never trust another human being for the rest of my life. Two years later we went to the airport to look at planes. No, why did we go there? My girlfriend at the time, she was home sleeping. My girlfriend was home sleeping while I was at the airport with you. I told you I would buy you dinner later if you let me fuck you in the car. You took me up on the offer. What did we do when we go to the airport? You kissed me for a minute, I started taking your clothes off, and what did I say? �Bad idea, let�s go home, you owe me 10 bucks for that dinner� I went home and just went to bed. It was Saturday night. I was with you on a Saturday night. Another red head at the airport ruining my heart for a day or two.

The office had a certain light in it today. A light that shows up in life from time to time. A light that opens your eyes brighter. This happened at work today. My eyes were opened at work today. I wish I could tell someone about it. I wish I could even begin to explain that feeling. Unfortunately, that stays in here for good. It doesn�t come out. It will stay here, and not be ruined or jinxed. Let�s just say that my eyes are wider, and my heart is lighter. Who cares what I feel like anyway?

before & after