Thursday, May 24, 2012

Meeting New Friends

Boomer's moped struggles down the neck past cedar shake cottages- spewing grey smoke and sputtering.  His visor beak keeps smacking me in the face with each bump or swerve (which is often).  Over the engine I yell...

"Where are we going?  Is this the way to Captain Nick's?"

"Hang on!", he screams as we bank hard left- cutting off a huge work truck filled with hay and bearing the words, "Sprague Farm" on the doors.  The truck honks as it's front bumper nearly clips my leg.

"Jesus man!  You almost killed us!"

"No worries, dog.  I had that by a mile", Boomer drawls back nonchalantly.  "We're heading to Nick's later.  I gotta make a couple of stops first."

As we approach a stop sign, I look left as in comes to view the Block Island Police Station.  A clean-cut, well groomed, rock-jawed police officer stands out front holding a cup of coffee cup emblazoned with an American flag.  Boomer waves excitedly like a kindergardener...

"Hey Chief! How's it goin' man?!?"

The Chief of Police stares down at Boomer and shakes his head with maximum disapproval before fixing his steely gaze on me.  We lock eyes- his narrowing into slits.

The moment is frozen in time...

I clutch my suitcase to my chest and swallow hard just as the moped lurches forward then banks down the road to the right away from the suspicious cop.

"So where are we going then if we're not going to Captain Nick's"?

Tired of explaining everything Boomer blurts out, "I gotta make a stop at my buddy Brian's.  I gotta...pick something up"

A minute or two later we pull into a marina overlooking the Great Salt Pond.  Dozens of pleasure craft are either lashed to docks or bobbing lazily in the harbor.  Ignoring a sign that reads, "No bikes or mopeds on the dock", Boomer blazes by a family cooking hotdogs on a small camp-style propane grill- almost taking out the grill.  He stops the moped at the end of the dock before a 40-something foot house boat which seems nicely appointed.  I hop off as Boomer tosses the bucket of bolts on it's center-stand and yells out...

"Brian!  Hey Brian- you in there man?!?!"

Brian, the dread-head trustafarian wearing the obligatory Phish t-shirt emerges rubbing his red, sleepy eyes and yawning.  "Oh hey maaaaaaaaan!  Welcome aboard bro!"

I'm not introduced as we follow Brian below deck to a plush living room full of highly glossed teak wood, comfortable seating and a 70-inch plasma displaying an Allman Brothers concert from the 70's.

Brian presses mute on a remote control, preempting the signature guitar lick from "Jessica" then turns to Boomer...

 "So what can I do ya for man?"

"Oh you know bro- the usual", says Boomer running a hand through his mop.

Brian's dopey grin turns hard as he notices me for possibly the first time.  "Who's this guy"?

"Oh...this is the Doctor.  He's the guy I was telling you about."

It takes a full seven seconds for the synapses to fire, " mean that hip-hop guy?  You're the guy with that Western Mass music video?  SWEET man!  Nice to meet you, brah!"  Brian offers an awkward bro-hug which I accept before he turns back to Boomer...

"And you're sure he's cool?"

Boomer looks me up and down.  "Well- we just met.  But I think he's alright".

"You're not a cop are you man?  Cuz' you know if you are, and I ask you?  You have to tell me or else it's...uh...uh..."

"Entrapment", I reply.

"Yeah!!!  Entrapment!  That's it!", Brian grins.

"Don't worry man- I'm no cop".

"Well alright then!  Let's get down to business!"

Brian ducks through a door and returns with an ornate wooden box. He opens it revealing little plastic containers full of dried-out looking buds. 

Boomer chooses one and hands Brian a $100 dollar bill.  Brian takes the bill, stuffs it in his pocket and suddenly remembers, "Oh!  Hey!  I gotta show you guys something!"

He ducks back through the door and returns moments later strapped with a gigantic smile on his face and two AK-47's attached to either arm- full rounds loaded and ready to rock.

"Whaddya dudes think of my new girlfriends?", laughs Brian maniacally.  He turns and un-mutes the Allman Bros DVD unleashing Dickey Betts in his full, unbridled glory then begins dancing...

I get myself the fuck outta there.  And fast.


  1. Now thats what i'm talking about, hilarious.

  2. Not from my perspective. I was freaking the "f" out.

  3. DUDE! Keep writing these blog updates, I AM LOVING THEM. Your storytelling is as awesome as your rapping.

  4. Thank you Slash. I'm just recounting events as they transpire. you can't make this shit up.