So I'm sure your wondering how Erik communicated with me after he moved on from this plane. Was it in gentle half awake whispers or a door mysteriously closing. If you thought it was anything so subtle you don't know Erik, I mean how I could you.
Erik was not one for the subtle. Everything about Erik was big bold and brash. From building his own mini Stonehenge in his back yard to his beloved Pinzgaur truck/tank mobiles.
So no, Erik did not gently push me back to the path of being-ness. Rather, he found a giant metaphysical rock and slammed me upside the head. He was right, there was probably no other way he could have gotten my attention.
But, before I go into my spiritual throttling, let me back up to the day before Erik went all otherworldly Mike Tyson on my then sorry ass.
Erik's memorial service was held on Saturday, September 27. I was flying up Friday the 26th to attend. I had it all planned out. I would fly up and hang out with my wonderful friends Amy, Andy and Dean. I would attend Erik's memorial and celebrate his amazing life with his friends and family. Fly back Sunday and go to a Niles Station reunion in the Bay Area.
Niles Station was a club that I used to play back in my hair band rock star days. It's funny, it hadn't occurred to me until writing this the significance of all this taking place on the same weekend. It really was the death of the my old life and a re-awakening to life itself.
I'll regale you with Nile's stories some other time. For now, back to my ass whuppen'.
The party started before I even got on the plane to fly home.
I may have forgotten to mention Erik lived in the town over from my hometown of Camas, WA and that my parents would be attending his memorial. Not something I was looking forward to, seeing my parents, that is.
Now when I say party what I really mean is drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. You see, I started drinking when I was around 13 or 14 and had done my best not to miss a day since. I drank in the bar at the airport, I drank on the plane North, I drank while waiting for Andy to pick me up from the train.
For most of my life drinking meant party, but it had gradually become a slow suicide that I had come to embrace. Even taking out an insurance policy, just in case it actually worked. I still wanted to make sure that my loved ones would be taken care of.
When Andy picked me from the train I was suitably buzzed and with my tolerance being what it was, there were three states of being: suitably buzzed, asleep/passed out or out of my mind.
Andy took me back to their humble abode which was also the home of their phenomenal animation studio Happy Trails. After saying hello to Amy and chatting for a bit,I was off to take a quick nap (asleep) before meeting our friend Dean and his friend for dinner.
Dinner was fantastic, meaning lots more drinking. Although, I remember thinking I had a good time. I can't speak for anyone else.
After dinner we headed back to Amy and Andy's. It was probably around midnight. We continued chatting and me drinking. Everyone eventually went to bed. Except me, who stayed up and did guess what, drink.
I woke up sometime early, early morning and needed to find first the bathroom and then my bedroom.
Now don't get me wrong. Amy and Andy have a beautiful home, but it's not so big that finding either of the aforementioned rooms should have been a challenge, but it was. It was like trying to make my way through the maze in the "Shining".
You see, finding a bathroom when your teeth are floating, coupled with being out of your mind drunk is almost impossible. But, I did and then fell into bed for a quick one or two hour to sleep it off.
At this point, you're thinking, 'Oh my God, he got drunk at Erik's memorial, but you would be wrong.
My goal, out of respect for Erik, his family and friends, was not to drink at all. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, as the the saying goes, something about the best laid plans of mice and men.
If you listen closely you can almost hear the ass kicking that Erik had planned on the horizon.
Next up: Let the ass kicking begin
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