Gordo's Gospel in the Stratus-Fear...

Ok, so here we go...
I arrived at Thrifty rental around nine am. The guy behind the counter informs me that Ive been "upgraded" to a PT Cruiser. Not remembering what they look like, I take the keys and chuckle to myself, my eyes scanning the numbered lots to see the sweet ride I'd be tooling off in.
15... 16...17...
18??!?!?!?!
So I'm staring dumbfounded at this melted shoebox with the most horrifying metallic blue paintjob. I had actually said fuck it, and still planned on driving it until I opened the door to peek inside. Looked like someone had melted a Snickers in the driver's seat and the whole backseat had had a bizarre Wesson oil fight.
To the death!
So I calmly stroll back and politely tell the guy that I wished to refuse the upgrade due to the above mentioned deficiencies. He told me that all car renters are pigs but that he'd switch it back. So thoughtful of him...
TO GIVE ME WHAT THE FUCK I'D WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!
So I head out on the road, with a stack of cds almost as big as the twinkle in mein eyes. Finally, on the road!
I saw oodles and oodles of cops, which normally doesn't put my knickers in a bunch, but I had brought a little of the homegrown with me to enjoy before the show. Suddenly my choice of the kickass, sporty looking 2006 Dodge Stratus hit me full on. Add that together with the fact that I had Arkansas plates, and you've got a little extra attention from Johnny Law.
And that ain't good at all...
So I stopped in Eldon, Missouri along the way. Why, you ask? Because I grew up there, silly! So little had changed there and I had no trouble finding my old house. So many memories, and eyes got a little misty. I also stopped at the elementary school and messed around on my old playground.
Sweeeeet!
I finished up the grueling drive and found myself in Columbia at a gas station and an hour to find the Blue Note! As I'm walking to the door, I catch glimpse of a black guy loudly proclaiming his sobriety to an unwitting gas pumper. Once inside, I ask the cashier how I might go about finding this mystical place of music and melodic merriment. The black guy, now inside, overhears my plight and tells me to go outside and ask his wife in the van how to get there.
I say, "Why the fuck not?"
She tells me that I'm practically there already, it's just a few streets over! Yay for me!!! I go inside to buy some smokes and piss. The black guy asks me if I got it figured out. I ask him about the sobriety thing after thanking him.
"Six years of sobriety with A.A." he boasts!!!
Well, twelve if you count the six he spent in the pen. So he starts screaming to his wife across the store about how I'm a friend of Bill W.'s. He then tells me that in gratitude, I should buy his drink and chips for him. Amused and stoked that I'm almost there at the show, I once again say, "What the fuck, why not?" It's gonna be less than three bucks anyway. As we stand at the counter, he says something about how he had originally planned on buying a sammich too. I looked at him and said, "Dood, I think that's gonna be enough. Don't push it."
I found the place with ease, but as it was swarming with cops, I found myself in a dilemma. Nowhere to make tokes in peace. So I ate a bunch of weed, and went to the door, bypassing the humongous line of ticketless schmucks, and making a beeline to the front door guy. He points me to the line and tells me that all those people have tickets and I gotta get at the back of the line. So I do.
But I got in fast once they started letting people in, and talked to some cool people along the way.
This is where I end the story, for now. Why, you ask? (again)
Because I'm gonna take this roll of film to the one hour photo store so I can post some of the better band pics for you to salivate over.
That's why!!!
I love cliffhangers...
To be continued...