I haven’t been on a real vacation in … well, since I grew up and got a job. Now, for most, that was after college. For me, well … the journey was a little longer than that. I was a fuck up most of the time from 1995 to 2001. Or 2002. I don’t remember now.
Not the point. Well, it’s kind of the point. But read on.
I moved to Decatur, Illinois to be closer to my Dad. He had remarried. I was lost in Midland – I watched as all my friends grew up and started their own families. Most of the last 8 months in Midland were extremely lonely for me. I worked two dead end jobs.
I could barely buy food for me and my little brother. We lived off of free hot dogs from the gas station. Some times, we’d splurge and get some pizza rolls and two liter of faygo. So when Dad asked me to come down, there wasn’t much hesitation.
It was time for me to move on.
And, really, i don’t regret it. I’ve been able to build a friendship with my Dad that not a lot of people can claim. So i’m very lucky in that respect. I’ve met some great people down there, too. People that I will cherish until my heart explodes or my kidneys rupture or my liver just crawls out of my ass and flies away.
Yeah, livers can fly. Not many people knew that.
On Monday afternoon, Kerry Backcock picked me up on Decatur St, in Decatur Illinois. We hadn’t been in the same room in probably two years. Hell, we don’t even talk on the phone. Text messages and facebook posts are how we stay connected.
And to me, it felt like we’d never been separated. Funny how that works.
They had been traveling all day … and poor little Joey had pretty much had his fill of vans, roads, fast food and Elmo. Well, probably not Elmo … but you get the picture. We all wanted to get home, for different reasons that night.
But I sat there as Kerry held her son like a good mommy does, in his child seat, contorting her body into basically a human pretzel, while Ryan drove and drove and drove and drove and drove …. and, you get the point.
Sounds miserable, doesn’t it? And I couldn’t tell you how happy I was, being there right then.
We got in around Midnight or so. Maybe later. I don’t recall. Called up Johnny Thunder and told him I was home. Told him the address. House is hidden. He couldn’t find it. I did that on purpose. Prank #1 is a success.
We finally told him where the house was and he came and picked me up.
We went picked up the essentials. Gatorade and Beer. Gatorade for his men, Beer for his jack ass. Then we drove around for a little bit, bullshitting the way brothers bullshit. Got to his house and he showed me around.
Nice house. You know a nice house when you see it. It feels like a home.
It was late … so, we ventured off in different directions, underneath the same Michigan sky for the first time in a long time. I sat in the camper for a few minutes, just rewinding the day and chuckling and kind of afraid to crawl into bed.
Last night was the first time in a long time I didn’t have my rock laying by my side. And I was worried he was laying on the carpet, worried about me laying on the bed I was calling it a night at. I tossed and turned, missing his loud snores rattle the floor. Missing the way he picks his head up to see if I’m still laying there next to him. How he pushes his paw forward, even though i’m sleeping on the opposite side, to get my attention to rub his belly.
But he’s there with my Dad. And I know he loves my Dad as much as he loves me. So I know he’s safe. Hell, I’m not even worried that he’s missing me. I’m worried that he doesn’t know how much I miss him.
Already.
I fell asleep eventually. I slept good. Peace and quiet man. Peace and quiet. The sounds of trains and garbage trucks will drive a man insane if you never get a chance to get away and escape the mind numbing, endlessness of it all.
Then the phone buzzed. “I’m going to go get bacon”.
That’s how we start parties. Bacon. Bitches.
Johnny Thunder cooked, and we ate. Like kings. We were living in the Fine Swine ta Dine Inn. Although, I believe he was trying to kill me with the amount of greasy, delicious bacon he was plopping onto the plate.
But sometimes, a man’s gotta die. And this would have been a noble death.
I finally got to meet his wife, Julie. I say finally, but really … I think I’ve known her my whole life. I really mean that. I usually feel very self conscious when meeting someone for the first time. I didn’t feel that way with Julie.
So, basically, what I’m saying is, where there was once just me and then me and John, there was now Me and John and Julie. My wolf pack was now three … my one wolf pack had grown to three in my wolf pack.
(if you’ve never seen Hangover, then, please feel free to ignore that last paragraph).
One by One I met the Griese Boys’. Logan first as he walked in and gave a big smile and a hello. Trey was next, offering a very firm hand shake. Very classy.
Max and Gabe followed suit, and both very gentleman like in their hellos and nice to meet yous. It’s fun to watch them interact. Varying ages separate them from being the same, but they are very much a like, very much brothers. And I’m proud to have met them. Even though Max ate the rest of my bacon.
Day one was a good day.
Max giving the thumbs up to the corn - even though only one piece was ate, to Julies chagrin.
