Spike and Mike part 5: Seattle

After spending 14 hours locked up in a Chicago jail for bringing a gun into an international airport, missing my granparents wedding anniversary and flying from Chicago to San Diego to Seattle, I was ready to crash hard, but I stayed up drinking and carrying on instead.

Homes and BJ were in Seattle. We were their repacements as they'd be heading up to Van Couver. They were making the most of their last night in the amazing apartment the Festival had provided for the Seattle run. Two walls of the living room were windows, wrapping around the corner and looking over the sound. Two bedrooms, one for Homes and BJ, now Dan and I and one for Hoang who had become a crew leader. There was an indoor swimming pool and jacuzi and a cool patio on the roof. A guy with dreadlocks whose name I've forgotten was hanging out. He'd been fired by Spike and Mike in San Diego for napping on the job but he'd remained good friends with the flyer crew. He was in Seattle for awhile and was practically living at the Spike and Mike apartment.

A party was in progress when Dan and I arrived and naturally we joined in, overjoyed to be hanging out with Homes and BJ. We drank more, having already caught a good buzz on the airplane. We were falling down giggling drunk in no time. Being a stupid shit I took a piss off the balcony. This was bad enough, but I later knocked a drink off the ledge of the top floor. I think it was an accident. We all looked over the edge and saw that it didn't hit anyone and then we bolted to lock ourselves into our hiding place/apartment.

I passed out and woke up to Mike Gribble (yes, this time I do mean Mike of Spike and Mike) yanking open all our blinds and letting the insanely bright sun in. I looked up and saw a furious purple beared face.

"UP!" He yelled before marching into the living room.

Dan and I dragged our aching heads out of bed and Took a seat in the living amongst the huge mess from the previous evening's debauchery. Hoang was sitting on the other couch and he didn't look happy. He had spent the evening in his room, by himself, trying to get some sleep.

"Clean this place up, now!" came Mike's order. We picked up bottles of beer, the free weekly paper which was spread across the apartment. We threw away the chips, dips, Taco Bell trash. We stacked the CDs, magazines and video games. Mike stopped us as we got to cleaning the pile of dishes we'd stacked in the sink. He had us take our seats again.

He stared at us, breathing deeply, and his rage was apparent. Then finally he spoke. "What the hell happened here? This is how you appreciate us putting you in such an amazing place? You trash it?" He didn't know the half of it. "You piss off the god damned balcony? You throw bottles off the roof." Oh shit, yes he did.

"Hey Mike..." I started, but he felt the need to warn me of the thin ice I was on. In fact, he informed me the ice had already broken. I was treading in the freezing water.

"Before you say a word, THINK! Think because I've already called and arranged for you all to be flown home. Now, do you have something to say."

I did. "Well, I have one thing, that's important to say. Hoang had nothing to do with this. He was in his room. We didn't even see him until this morning."

"Is this true Hoang?"

Hoang nodded.

"Well you're in charge. You shouldn't be letting this happen."

Hoang nodded again.

"Where are the other guys?" I asked.

"They're in Van Couver. I was about to fire their asses but they tell me this was you two."

I didn't know weather to believe him or not, but I didn't care to keep the truth from him. I wasn't that noble. "This mess is all of ours. In fact the bags of trash and such are them. We just got here last night. We drank and made one nights worth of mess, which could be cleaned up in a couple of hours. We wouldn't have had time to do all of this alone."

"Who pissed off the roof?"

Nobody answered. I don't know if anyone else knew.

Mike asked if it was the dreadlocked guy.

Nobody answered. I was feeling like a grade a prick, but I was also feeling like keeping my job. Dread Lock boy didn't have a job to lose.

I answered, "I don't think so. I doubt anyone pissed off the roof. I didn't see anyone do it."

"Someone did!" Mike yelled. "Do you know who threw the bottles?"

I was already full of self loathing, so I went for some redemption. I raised my hand.

Mike just stared at me. I reverted to my five year old self for a moment under his disgusted glare, and then I spoke, carefully.

"I didn't throw bottles. I knocked one bottle of the ledge, on accident. I saw that nobody got hurt, and we shut the party down then."

"All of you, Clean this place up and then you two get your bags packed." Dan and I were going home. I was tempted to say fuck it to the clean up, but I'd already reached my quota for stupidity. We got the place sparkling as Mike and Hoang went out flyering. We didn't need to pack. We'd never unpacked. We got a call from Margine who ran the office and she spoke to us each seperately getting our stories of the previous nights events. She told us that Dreadlocks was no longer allowed in any Spike and Mike apartment. She was calling Homes and BJ for their stories too.

Mike and Hoang got back. Dan and I had showered and cleaned up ourselves. Clean us, clean apartment and a few hours to calm down had Mike relaxing a bit. He moved Hoang to the couch and himself into Hoangs room. I wanted to ask if we were still leaving but I just left it alone. That night Mike gave us our assignments. We were staying.

The next morning I finally saw Seattle by daylight. What a city, so green and gorgeous. We found the gay mall, the space needle, and the college campus. We flyered hard. We were torn between embarassment, relief and anger over what happened but for now we concentrated on getting to know this city.

We met a-lot of buskers/spare changers who were living like the kids we'd met in SF, more campers than homeless. Later day hippies with a generous helping of punk and hip hop sensibilities mixed in. I met a couple of these kids, Sara and Jake that I ended up hanging out with.

Sara sang me a song she wrote and it was beautiful, she was beautiful, sitting on the street with her watching all the busy people go by as the sun set was beautiful. I was again feeling like joining Spike and Mike was just a step to where I really wanted to be. I was homeless, sort of, I had no ties to anyone place, but I still had a boss and as had been recently been made clear my way of life could be taken from me all too easily, and it wouldn't take much to throw it away either, which I was tempted to do. I could just stay there, with Sara and Jake. They'd be heading to SF soon. I was sure It'd make a better person of me. I wouldn't be pissing off of balconies like a spoiled shit, I'd be pissing in alleys instead. I said goodnight to Sara and Jake and returned to the apartment.

It was nice getting to know Hoang a little better. He was Asian, but not sure what nationality. He asked his white dad once if he was Chinese or Japanese or what and his dad replied with "You're an American. You want to be a gook? I can drop you off in China town right now, you can be a gook there." Wow!
You'd think he'd be able to figure it out based on his first name, his appearance, etc. but Hoang knew less about Asian culture than anyone. He was racist against Asians in fact. We were out driving and a car next to us started talking to Hoang in some language niether of us recognized. Hoang yelled back. "This is America ya slant eyes. Speak english! You speakee engrish?" They yelled more animatedly now and Hoang laughed his ass of.

Hoang could beat anyone at Street Fighter and this introduced me to a strange subculture. We'd enter an arcade and there would be aline waiting to play the game. Whoever won would stay on, and the loser forfeited his spot to the next in line. If Hoang somebody win several games in a row he'd feel then need to get in line, beat them, and then give up his spot, playing only one game. I marvelled at this virtual fighting creating an actual virtual pecking order. I doubt kicking the dominate males ass in Street Fighter got you laid, but maybe, indirectly. Hoang did walk with a certain swagger when he had just beaten someone's ass.

Hoang was fun to work with. We'd take turns playing music and he was open to it all. He liked poppier stuff himself but when I put on David Byrne's The Forest he observed that it was perfect for such a rainy day in such a green town. We went and saw The Smashing Pumpkins together. Billy Corgan called me an asshole from stage. I was on top of the crowd and the tempo of the music slowed, but the crowd kept me up. Corgan points out the asshole crowd surfing durring a slow song, and then makes some dum crack about him not being punk rock enough. I climbed a tower with a camera on top and dove from it as a ridiculous response to the embarassment of being singled out like that. This would have gotten me in a couple of fights if Hoang wasn't good intimidating people off.

Dan and I met a girl right away named Allegra and immediately we both fell for her. I honestly tried to step back, weather Dan believes it or not, and give him a shot. But she was beautiful and she made it clear that she was interested in me. What was I supposed to do?

I ended up in the jacuzi with her and without Dan, and the deal was sealed with a kiss. She had a curvy body and big curly blonde hair. Dan was not fond of me, and I wasn't to crazy about me either.

I was determined to stop the now repeating cycle of going to a town, being disatisfied with the pointlessness of my life and going to another town. I wanted to do something drastic. Hell, Allegra was gorgeous and free spirited, I figured we should run and get married. I'd stay in Seattle, everything would be new. Sure, why not. By the time I suggested it, we were drunk way beyond driving anywhere, but she thought it was a dandy of an idea. We woke up, and I went back to work.

I seemed unable to enjoy what should have been an ideal life. I drank everynight and I had trouble finding the energy I'd once had for flyering. I kept thinking I'd settle down with Allegra or bum around with Sara and Jake. Then I'd get some bear settle in for the evening and start it all over the next day.

I was hungover as hell when Mike dropped me off to flyer at one of the colleges. When I started this, the job thing the working, I didn't know what I was getting into. I didn't realize when I turned in that application at Kentucky Fried Chicken that this was forever, that I'd need a job from then on, that i'd be defined by my job, that quality of the job, or the lack of job would be the center of my life from here on out. Unless I could escape it. Unless I could go backwards. I was moving forward at a faster pace than ever. What links did I have to the past. I was losing people. My family had changed and would never be the same. i had no town that was home. I tried to go back when I visited Emily. The cliche rang true. You can't go back.But maybe I could at least hold still. Put on the breaks. Stop a moment and build something out of it.

I found a newpaper and sat on my ass for a good fifteen minutes, not knowing that Mike had followed me in to see if I was working. He grabbed my flyers, and started flyering loudly. Fuck! I'd blown it again. I tried to get some flyers from Mike so that I could flyer as well, but he wouldn't let me at them. I followed him all over campus as he flyered with great exuberance. The happier he acted the more pissed I knew he was. I followed him out to his Volvo and got in.

Mike didn't say a word as he started driving up into the hills. I half thought he was just driving me as far from civilization as possible so he could ditch me. That would be about what I deserved. Mike parked at a photo opportunity pull over.

Mike sat there for a long time, and then he started talking.

"Spike and I built this company up from nothing. Do you know our history, because I'm going to tell it to you. We were young, your age, when we got jobs promoting concert films. Pink Floyd, Led Zeplin. The guy doing the shows didn't give us cars or hotels, he didn't even equip us with staplers. We'd pull tacks out of bulleting boards and re-use them. I bought some cartoons on 16 mm and suggested he put them on before the films. I found great shit. The first thing I bought was Porky Pig smashing his thumb and cursing. Well it became clear to me that the cartoons were being talked about more than the concerts. Spike and I flunked out of college, spending all of our money and time putting together our show and promoting it. It's our dream come true. I love this show. I love entertaining people. I love supporting this art form of animation. And I love being able to have you punk ass, skater, raver kids be a part of it. Do you like being a part of this? Do you realize how special this is? If not, that's okay. Go home. Find something special to do. Life is short Keith. Some day, sooner than you realize, you will be old and I hope that you'll look at what you've spent your time doing and be proud. Will you be proud to say you stole my fucking money by sitting on your ass while I paid you to promote my cartoon show? Hell no. You'll be a bitter, jaded fuck, like all these assholes we deal with every day, who hate us because we're not rotting away in a cubicle and yet some how we're on the floor above them at the hotel. Decide Keith. If you want to stay, you're welcome to stay, but be a part of this magic thing."

"Okay Mike." There was nothing more to say. Mike was right and I was a shit.

I needed to wake up. Mike was one of the most amazing people I'd ever met, and there had to be more to this than drinking the same alcohol and griping the same gripes in a new town every month. Mike gave this speech again, to all of us, while standing in front of those amazing wrap around windows as the sun set behind him. He was yelling, "Look! Look at where you are, and appreciate it! This is amazing! This view, this sunset, this life!" Hoang and Dan were pinned to teh couch, having no idea where this was coming from.

Mike then turned downright giddy. He then invited us to watch a movie with him. Poor Allegra was sitting in my room waiting through Mike's rant. Mike asked her if she would do us the honor of watching a movie with us. She of course accepted and he took her with him as he practically danced out of the apartment on his way to buy some popcorn, soda and snacks. I loved Mike right then. I felt like he was my second father. I'd found a purpled bearded, non-deodorant wearing, fooze ball playing, yoga loving mentor.

Dan's reaction to Mike was a bit different.

"Something's up." Dan announced as soon as Mike had left the room. He picked the lock on Mike's briefcase. He was right. Something was up. Dan found papers, unsigned, which would give Mike's share of the company to Spike for a tidy sum. Mike would stay on as a consultant and independent contractor, promoting the festival in specific markets including Portland Oregon where Mike always celebrated his birthday. So, nothing would change accept the way that the innerworkings were structured, but it was signifigant. Something was up.

Seattle was coming to a close. The were doing well. I'd studied Mike's announcing some more and I continued to be amazed by his presence on stage. Hoang and I announced the Sick andTwisted show a couple of times together, with Hoang do most of the talking. We couldn't hold a candle to Mike so we didn't try. We went loud and vulgar. I wouldn't write my mom about it, but it felt good to get the crowd pumped up.

I had a couple of days off and so I spent time the with Allegra, and I was thankfull we hadn't gotten married. I was annoying the hell out her with my slovenliness, and she was annoying me by being so annoyed with me.

I had one last day to flyer for our closing weekend. The sun was out and I felt like playing mute. I'd learned the trick when Dan had his teeth pulled in Chicago and from time to time I'd just quit talking. I was flyering and drawing on the sidewalk to draw attention to my flyering. A woman happened along with her cello and asked if I'd mind her playing while I drew and flyered. I smiled and nodded. In no time at all another woman came along and started reciting poems to in time with the cello. Her poetry was actually good too. Good poetry is as rare as such a sunny day in Seattle in Fall. Life may have been meaningless, but it sure could be pretty.

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