The Night Eddie Spaghetti Invited Me on Stage.

The last time I saw the Supersuckers, live and in concert was the first time I attended an over 21 only show. It was at Berbati's Pan, a small club in downtown Portland -- the fact that it is a relatively small venue is worth noting. I went to the show with a number of friends, but by the end of the night I'm sure they would have testified that they didn't know me, and I don't blame them. This night was to become a seminal point in my maturation process, and it goes to prove that I usually have to learn things the hard way. 

Seeing as how I was an immature drinker, I didn't know how to pace myself and I dived right in. Drinking heavily from the opening band (I have no idea who they were, I probably never did) in anticipation of the Supersuckers set. I really loved them as a band, and they carry this persona that conveys bad-ass, and general not giving a shit-ness. In fact, I guess I bought into this persona that they played up that I thought they would appreciate a drunk guy in the back of the club screaming "F@*# You!" and "You suck" at the top of his lungs. I thought they would understand that this was my ode to their persona, and general rock-star awesomeness. I did this screaming for awhile, got tired, drank a bunch more, visited with different friends but then went right back to screaming vulgarities and insults at what was my favorite band. I was probably giving them the finger -- I don't specifically recall. 

And then it happened. I was screaming at the band. There was at least a hundred people dancing and singing and generally having a good time and being loud between me and the stage. But Eddie Spaghetti (the lead singer) still must have been able to hear me and my vulgar offerings. He also must not have understood the manner in which I wanted him and the rest of the band to take said offerings. He stopped the music in mid-song. He pointed at me and said something to the effect of "Hey punk, you think you can do a better job, why don't you come up here and show us all how its done." Well, okay. 

Perhaps a drink or two earlier I would've understood this as my cue to slink away into the darkness and stop being such a jerk. But no! I thought that this was my time, my time to make friends with the band, to show the rest of the concert goers that I was in fact the biggest and best Supersuckers fan of all! So I went up to the stage, and Eddie handed me the microphone. It was very quiet and the people looked unhappy as I looked out upon their faces. I'm pretty sure I screamed into the microphone "F#$* You!" I then dropped it and leaped off the stage. I had envisioned the crowd yearning to come together, triumphantly lifting me up so I could body surf to the back of the club where I would be placed back into my original position and  metaphorical place, which was the king of the Supersuckers fandom. But No! I leapt and the crowd parted like the Red Sea on steroids and I landed on the beer soaked, cigarette encrusted concrete floor. The one friend that witnessed all this came to help me up and at that point she knew that I wasn't totally okay to be left alone; not only was I a danger to myself, there were a couple of hundred people who were not at all happy with me at that point. She got me home, I assume with a cab. 

I can only imagine what I would be thinking to myself if I was at a show tonight and some 21 year old jack ass pulled what I pulled that night. To say I would be scornful would be a statement of minimal quantification. There is no doubt that I've continued to make a fool of myself, with or without imbibing in spirits since that fateful night, but that was (that I can think of right now, at least) to be the night I peaked; where my personal wave of drunken stupidity crashed upon the rocky shores of Mt. adult. I'm glad it happened as early as it did. The next morning I had to be reminded why my side hurt so much and why my hip and lateral thigh was so badly bruised. 

So, even though all my Supersuckers CD's are long gone, and I don't have a Supersuckers station on Pandora, I still, at times, lean back and think about that night and I probably always will. Thank you Mr. Spaghetti.