Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Denver/ A Trip To The ER


Once again, Denver fucking ruled! Getting there was a little sketchy though. We hit a wall of fog outside of Cheyenne that was like driving through warm mayo. We couldn't see three feet in front of us and when you turned on the windshield wipers it would just coat the window with what looked like a year's worth of soap scum. John almost got a ruptured retina from the eye strain.

It was our first time at 3 Kings, but Jeff and his crew took great care of us. Even our old friends from the Hi-Dive helped out by lending us some sub-woofers for the P.A. Thanks guys. The openers, TaunTaun and Kingdom Of Magic, melted our faces off if you get a chance to see either of them, go, you will not be let down. Thanks to everyone that showed up on a Sunday night, it was awesome.

Aaron's folks live in Denver and his mom had made us a huge burrito buffet for dinner but due to the attack of the blob in Wyoming we couldn't make it. So after the show it was back to their house to do our worst to the leftovers. To our surprise not only did she a leave us the leftovers, but also left out a pack of cigarettes that Bryan had left there, last March:


You know, it's funny how after you drain two wash tubs full of beers then wash it down with a bottle of vodka (thanks again 3 Kings), even the simple things like putting together a burrito can be a challenge. We all woke up this morning heads pounding with salsa stains on our pants—well at least I did.

Shit! Forget all that, listen to this: So we are driving down I40 heading from Denver, same old shit is going on, John is playing Scrabble on his phone, David is asleep and I'm pluggin' away on that crap you just read, when it becomes clear something is growing increasingly wrong with Aaron in the backseat. He starts making noises usually reserved for actors in late night Cinemax movies, a sort of labored breathing with groans—and he is grabbing his guts. We're thinking he is paying the price for eating that expired cookie dough out of his parents fridge... We yank off the road at the nearest supermarket where he fires down a handful of antacids, some yogurt, walks it off in the parking lot and jumps back in the van. We don't make it another hundred miles before it sounds like he's teaching a Lamaze class back there. It's passed truck stop doctoring at this point, we're heading to the hospital.

Next thing you know we are sitting in the Hays, Kansas ER waiting room next to an old lady in a wheelchair, a small child with a who doesn't seem too concerned about her head wound and another little five-year-old fucker who won't stop talking about everybody's shoes (“What kinda shoes are those? Nikes? I like Nikes. Do you like Nikes?...). They tell him it could be an appendicitis. Seein' as I went through that about a year ago I start acting like Doogie Howser or someshit telling him what the surgery is all about, as if telling him that they move your guts around to get to your appendix is going to ease his mind. After about an hour they take some blood and jab an I.V. In his hand:

Another half-hour passes, they drag him in the back and give him a CT scan, now it's a waiting game. If they gotta go in there and rip his appendix out, we're going to be here for a while. At this point, all of us are really wanting to hear the worlds longest fart, followed by a “You're free to go Mr. Beam.”

I killed some time reading this:
And looking at this weird medical supply vending machine type thing:


When the result came back it turned out the he'd had a gallbladder attack. He's got some stones bouncing around in there and one got jammed up in a tube-amajobber then unjammed itself causing an unbelievable amount of pain but no permanent damage. They pumped him full of morphine, gave him a script for some pain killers and kicked him lose. While it is good to know he is okay, he will have to have a pretty drastic diet change to make sure it doesn't happen again.

By the time this was all finished it was close to 2am so when made the call to cancel our Covington, KY show tomorrow, get a hotel so Aaron could rest up and point it to West Virginia in the morning. John somehow conned the front desk guy at the hotel into giving us a suite for the price a double, then after paying for it informed him that he had lied and there was five of us. Some real Jedi mind trick type stuff. Alright, it's 4:30am gots to sleep.

—Coyle

Tour To Live!

6 comments:

  1. :( Sounds like a whole lot of suck for aaron, there.

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  2. I'm counting on you guys to make it to Huntington, WV.

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  3. Well I'm glad he is going to be OK.
    Thanks for rocking our face of in Denver.
    Come back and do it again sometime.

    James

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  4. They let him on that bed with New Balance shoes on? Dirty fuckin' Kansans anyway. . . .

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  5. jeez, beam. get with the program! hope everything works out with that tour diet. feel better.

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  6. Aaron, that sucks. I hope you get feeling better, Man. And, I hope the rest of you let him keep his pain pills for their proper therapeutic use. But I'm sure he'll have to keester them. Even then Sherman will still sniff 'em out.
    Anyhow, you dudes have a good (remaining) tour. I'll check yer Schedule and see if you are coming this way at all....

    Brett J Gaffney

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