the_siobhan | running on fury (Reply)

disastrid told this story at my birthday party. And it's kind of funny, so I'm repeating it here.

The first time Captain Matt's Armada Featuring Axel (Where Trevor Writes All The Songs And Does All The Work) played in front of people was in

the_axel's kitchen at a New Year's Eve party. The second time was in a tiny punk club called the Q-Bar. It's a hole-in-the-wall so tiny that the only way to get to the bathroom is to walk across the stage. It can hold maybe 30 people if nobody exhales and it was packed.

So everybody had a blast and the band didn't end up leaving until kicking-out time. Trouble with that is that the venue is on Queen St West, which is where a lot of clubs are located and it was kicking-out time for them too. So while there are plenty of cabs at that time of night there are also a lot of people competing for them.

Still, nobody felt like trying to haul amps and drums on foot, so while Isabelle watched the gear,

the_axel,

caspervonb and

the_other_j headed north on one street to see if they could catch a taxi coming down, while

the_fury and I continued along Queen to see if we could find one there.

Queen St is really slow that time of night, and one lane on each side is pretty much completely taken up by parked cars. So I ended up standing on the road just by the row of cars, and staring off to my right in the opposite direction from the oncoming traffic.

And as a car passed right by me, the passenger leaned out through the open window and grabbed my breasts.

For a couple of seconds all I did was stare at the back of the car with my mouth hanging open. My eyes swept down to stare at my breasts as if they had been teleported onto my body, then back up to the retreating car.

Then the whole world went red and the next thing I know I am HAULING ASS down the middle of the street.

You know, as often as I talk about wanting to kill people, I've only actually seen red like that three times in my life. The first time I was maybe 13 and I broke a door trying to get at somebody. The second time I was 19 and I picked somebody up by the throat for threatening me with an axe. This was number three and I'm 39 years old and running like a fucking maniac down the middle of a busy city street. And the only thing I can remember thinking was that I might not have to kill his friends as well if they handed him over without too much fuss, but I would if I had to.

I chased him for blocks. And Queen St, where it is impossible to move at anything over about 2 miles an hour once the bars let out, opened like the red sea for this car. At the point where the lights turned green just in time to let him gun his car down the now completely empty road in front of him, I had to admit defeat and stop running.

So I turned to trudge back towards the Q-Bar, my mohawk drooping in dejection - to face

the_fury running up behind me. He hadn't seen a thing, but when he spotted me running like a berzerker down the street he had run after me. And what had been going through his mind the entire time was, "I am about to get into a fight and I have no idea why. There had better be a good damn good explanation for this."

And then the two of us walked back to the corner where the other guys were trying to figure out where the hell we had gone to. So nothing ended up happening. And we eventually found our cab and got everybody and all their stuff home. But for about the next six weeks if you asked me a question as innocuous as "how are you?" you would get a 5-minute-long rant about how much I had really wanted to catch that car.