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Surrounded!

While in college I played drums in a blues/rock band known for its ability to transform a song into something completely different, yet still hold to its basic nature. We had a highly-promoted gig in the biggest building in town - the Armory, which is basically an extremely large, empty military building. After setting up and running a sound check, we pulled out some of the folding chairs stacked in the corner and sat down to watch everyone trickle in.

Just before starting, a gang of bikers arrived. And they were your typical bikers: hurly-burly guys wearing black Harley-Davidson shirts, jeans, leather jackets. They had long, scraggly hair, beards, tattoos covering their arms, heavy black boots that you could drive a car over. To say that they looked entirely out of place for this small Central Missouri college town would be a gross understatement.

No one knew if they were here for the band or if they were here to kick everyone's ass.

I sensed several of them walk behind me. I saw people to my right suddenly get up. I was quickly surrounded.

As I pondered what to do, I felt someone grab my chair, lift it up into the air, and unceremoniously dump me onto the ground. He said, "Pardon me, is this seat taken?" They laughed and shouted, then completely ignored me as I sat at their feet rubbing my bruised ego. I said something to them through their laughter but I said it so quietly I'm sure they didn't hear me. I don't even remember what I said.

We started playing and soon I'd forgotten about what happened. There were many more people there than expected. We were playing better than ever. The crowd was into us. Babes danced. Lighters were lit. Even some of the bikers were right in front, spilling beer, shouting, screaming, repeatedly making Lynyrd Skynyrd requests.

We finished our first set and just as I climbed off my drums I found myself surrounded yet again by the bikers. And the one who took my chair was leading the way.

What did I do? I'd forgotten what I said to them but maybe it totally pissed them off. I can't get my ass kicked, I thought, I have another set to play and there are several babes giving me the 'zoink me after the show' look. How can I get out of this? What could I possibly say that would allow me to live?

The behemoth who dumped me from my chair grabbed me by the shoulders and held me in the air above him. Crazy, non-sensical thoughts ran through my mind - I just made myself an excellent crock pot stew, I have a test this Tuesday, I hope it's not raining when I'm done, did I send in my phone bill payment?

Even if someone wanted to help, there was no way they could fight through this wall of big hair and belt buckles. I was a mouse about to be crushed in the hands of a heartless beast of a man. All I could see was leather and all I could feel were my arms and shoulders being squeezed into my body.

Everyone was watching - kind of like how people are drawn to those Discovery specials where lions kill the beautiful gazelles. Loud enough for the entire hushed cavernous building to hear, oblivious to all who were watching, he proclaimed, "OH MAN, YOU ARE AWESOME ON THE SKINS! WOW! YOU KICK ASS!"

I looked around and I could see the entire biker gang smiling at me. He continued, "Oh man, I'm sorry for taking your seat. I'll make it up to you... Let me buy you a beer. Gaw-DAM! you kick ass. I have always wanted to play drums. I know, I'll buy the whole band a beer. Oh, MAN, can you teach me?"

I was still being held up in the air.

Ever have one of those moments where you almost crash into a car or when something ALMOST happens causing you possible death or at least definite injury? I have, and it feels like I swallowed rocks and butterflies. My heart beats rapidly and it takes me a moment to realize I'm still alive and that I can resume breathing.

This was one of those moments.

This guy taught me something: People are not always what they seem. In fact, this behemoth was ENTIRELY different. When I told him that I'd rather have a Coke, he said, "Oh man, that's cool. You don't drink?" I shook my head. "Me neither. I just like to ride my bike. Besides, my old lady would - Kick. My. Ass. (Each word was its own sentence) if I came home with alcohol on my breath."

I hope everyone reading this has learned a lesson about pre-judging people. For those of you unable to keep up, I'll explain…

Throughout your life, you will have opportunities to cast judgment upon people, very similar to what I experienced. Many times your initial impressions and your stereotypes might just be wrong.

And so, if a biker gang ambles around to where you're sitting and it looks as though they might enjoy having your seat…

Get the hell up! What, are you stupid? They'll kill you!


::clasping hands, nodding in priestly manner, eyes closed with a gentle smile::





© 2002 Rob Daugherty

 

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