Road Trip

When the warden at the Hartsburg Sanatorium graciously granted me a furlough last weekend, I seized the opportunity to visit some old friends and make some new ones in Lee's Summit, Missouri. The getaway was just what the doctor ordered.

First, I bought a twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon long necks and headed to see my old friend Grant Barnes. He and his lovely bride Brenda were going on a dinner date that evening, so after drinking a couple beers I had them drop me at Sorano's Sports Bar just down the road from their house where my friend Paul was slated to perform his unique brand of acoustic comedy that night. It was 4:30 in the afternoon and the comedy show wasn't set to begin until 8:00. Naturally, I started drinking 22-ounce Boulevard Brewery Oatmeal Stout after 22-ounce Boulevard Brewery Oatmeal Stout in order to pass the time.

Sometime between beers one and six, I struck up a conversation at the bar with a husband and wife who within twenty minutes invited me to stay with them in their ocean front condo in Daytona Beach and attend the Daytona 500 next month. I was sure they were joking until the wife asked, or rather insisted, a second time a few minutes later. The husband wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the idea(perhaps he wasn't into threesomes with men twenty years younger than him) so I discretely ordered a fried pork tenderloin sandwich and made sure my mouth was too busy masticating to exchange contact information with the overly friendly woman. The husband saw his opportunity to flee as I asked for more ketchup and I graciously pretended not to notice when they slipped past me and into the night.

As I finished my sammich, which did little to soak up the overabundance of alcohol in my belly, Paul arrived and we sat down to discuss some notes for our musical that we are co-writing. He's the Rogers to my Hammerstein--I think. He suggested a tweak to the script I had written and assured me that the lyrics are coming along nicely. (Stay tuned for further progress reports and performance announcements). At any rate, showtime was drawing near, so Paul started setting up. I continued to make friends at the bar. It is a strange feeling when you are sitting on a barstool two and a half hours from where you live and the attractive woman tending bar says to you, "You must be Travis." I said that I was. She then said, "Naughton, right?" It seems that the legend of me is growing--as is my ego. In fact, I made friends with two Amys that night in addition to a Kollin, a Del, a Tom, and some fun ladies whose names I can't recall. By the time Grant showed up to give me a ride home, I'm pretty sure I had met about half the people in the joint and drank shots of Jagermeister with at least two or three of them.

Of course Paul & the Violent Farmers killed that night. Paulie never fails to make me laugh, no matter how many times I've heard his material. Ironically, one of his most popular/notorious songs is called "Road Trip", although this epic tale of a lover's desperate journey to get home to his girl is a horse of a different color compared to the road trip I was on. You can hear a sample of the song, and many others of Paul's on iTunes. http://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/paul-the-violent-farmers/id367246554

I spent the rest of the evening visiting and laughing with the Barneses and I eventually went to bed when the waves of nausea subsided and I could lay down without the room spinning. As I drove home the next day, the details of my therapeutic road trip gradually became less fuzzy. I am sure that more than one passing motorist became concerned when they saw a bleary-eyed driver laughing out loud for no apparent reason. From what I remember, I had a very good time in Lee's Summit that night.

I wonder where my next road trip will take me... Suggestions? Invitations? Admonitions?