SYMPATHY

October 15, 2006, 7:42am: Back at the Jockey Club, where the Missing Digits crew were staying, Buddha and I were still awake and watching The Cable Guy on TV.

Roy was passed out in the room where Buddha had slept the night before. They'd made an arrangement to trade off every other night.

JJ and Carrie had the master bedroom to themselves.

Mack was passed out on the living room floor, mumbling to himself now and then. JJ would emerge from the bedroom every half an hour and ask us if Mack was OK. After getting humorous reassurances from us that Mack was in good hands, JJ would return to the room.

Buddha and I joked about laying cruel jokes on Mack, such a giving him a Hot Nickel (heating up a coin and placing it on the skin of the passed out person) or placing his hand in water to induce urination (something that would be a tad bizarre, given Mack's missing index finger and all) or possibly writing on his face with a Sharpie.

However, Buddha and I were not feeling that prankish. Even though we were both wide awake, we were also beaten from the night's activities. Buddha did not roll on E but he'd had a few drinks and went the distance with the rest of us.

We would both glance over at Mack whenever an audible groan arose, and we'd laugh. But it wasn't in us to escalate the madness any further. It had nothing to do with being nice guys or feeling bad for Mack: It was simply a matter of knowing that he would get us back for it one day, and then a full-on war would have to be waged, a never-ending battle of pranks that would only stop when both side messed each other up in a near-catastrophic manner.

You see, Mack and JJ liked playing jokes too. But having been a witness to Mack's dark side, having had only the slightest glimpse into his chaotic soul, I thought better of it. Not that I thought Mack would ever try to beat me up or retaliate in an unkind fashion-- it had more to do with knowing my own dark side, and also knowing that if someone pulled a prank on me while I was wasted and passed out, I would not react well due to my composure being stripped away. I would lose my cool and end up having to apologize to whoever wanted to have a little fun at my expense.

I've got a short fuse, what can I say?


*/*


October 15, 2006, 6:20am: Carrie and I returned from the rental car and found the boys exactly where we last left them: In the casino, standing around and talking to a guy that JJ knew from Los Angeles.

Buddha and JJ were chatting it up. As their conversation partner went on at length about his weekend, JJ saw Carrie and I. His face was lit up from the E. He looked like someone had taken the face of a newborn baby from a photograph and Photoshopped it onto the body of a pro wrestler.

"There you guys are," JJ exclaimed, his aura betraying no negativity. I sensed no jealousy or doubt, even though his girlfriend and I were gone for close to an hour. He was glad to see us.

"You take care of what you had to do?" JJ asked Carrie. She smiled and nodded her head. Then he walked away from the conversation (as Buddha was speaking to the other guy) and came up to me and said, "How you feelin'? That E kickin' your ass?"

I responded, "Yeah, but it's not pure E. It's cut. Still, I'm mad fucked up. I took two."

"Mack and I took five each!" JJ said, his crystal blue eyes dilated and pinging beyond belief.

"It's funny to see you guys in this state," I said. "I'm the one who is always torked on something, but I guess you guys like to indulge from time to time."

"Man, I used to be a big-time smoker and drinker. I couldn't take it after a while, especially the drinking. You're lucky you don't have that problem, Mr. Alcohol Allergy."

"Yeah, well, I have to be extra careful due to being allergic. Maybe I won't get addicted to it, but I could die from alcohol poisoning."

"That's true... but hey, anyway, it's great to be hanging with you and the guys in Vegas! You know, James, ever since you joined this band, I feel like it's just improved so much. You're a huge part of that. You brought in Wolf Man when we needed a drummer, and when he left you brought in Buddha, you know all the songs, you write songs as well, you play bass and help arrange the songs, you sing back-up, you bring people to the shows... What do you not do for us? I can't thank you enough, man."

I could blame JJ's effusiveness on the E, but he's expressed such sentiments to me when he was sober. The E merely allowed him to say it without the fear of me doubting him wafting into my consciousness.

"Hey man, thank you for giving me the opportunity to play with some great musicians who actually care about doing it right." I felt the love from all around.

JJ and Carrie went back over to the conversation. I turned around and saw Roy and Mack, sitting in front of some slot machines. Roy was staring at the machine in front of him, his eyes glazed over; Mack was dropping endless dollar bills into the one-armed bandit, alternating between pulling the lever and hitting the "SPIN" button.

I sat down next to them and before I could try my luck Mack handed me a dollar.

"Here, bro, play it. I think you're gonna win something."

I looked at the misshapen bill. "I don't think I can even get this one to slide in, Mack."

"Just try it," Mack barked. He was surly, wasted, completely out of his gourd.

I was so fucked up that I actually tried to force the dollar into the bill slot. The machine kept spitting it out. I tried three times before I handed it back to Mack.

Mack grabbed it back angrily, and mumbled something to himself that was inaudible, sounding like a third-rate Elvis impersonator.

My head was like a carousel by this time, awash in the dazzling lights and the gaudy ambiance of the casino. The non-stop drone of slot machines ringing and clanging meshed together seamlessly like some Bengali raga in an East Asian marketplace.

I looked at Mack, his face twisted from drink and chemicals, mechanically pulling the lever, absent-mindedly gambling and grunting. He was so happy at the Cooler Lounge when his mother showed up. Not even the tardiness of the preceding band nor the minor annoyances of the evening in general had made a dent in his careful facade but now here he was, misery and turmoil etched into his grinding jaw, with eyes that seemed vacant and faraway.

I was going to try and say something to him, but as if he could read my mind he turned to me and started speaking with a nervous stutter, struggling to find coherence with words that he could barely pronounce in the state he was in.

"James, man... I just wanna say, bro... you know, I think that you're... you know, you're a great musician, man... and... and... and you're always on point... you never even blink when the shit hits the fan... solid... you're solid, man... I respect you a lot... I really do... and... man, every time JJ and I have tried to get this group off the ground... you know... shit happens... we've never had a chance to grow with it 'cuz... people left the band... they had 'creative differences'... whatever that means..."

He turned his eyes back to the slot machine, and as he spoke it seemed like he was having a hard time speaking and gambling at the same time. If he pulled the lever or hit the button to add a credit, it rendered him unable to say what he wanted to say, causing him to wait for the machine to spin. Sometimes he would pause to see the results and react accordingly, all the while still trying to say what was on his frazzled, drug-laced mind.

"Anyway," he continued, "I really really hope... I hope... shit, I just won it all back! Anyway, like I was saying... we... that is, JJ and Buddha and me... we want you to stay in this band... I know you have other projects, other bands, a whole other life... but we need you here, man... it's where you belong... fuck, another one... I think I'm gonna cash out soon..."

"You're gonna crash out?" I asked, mishearing him.

"No, cash out," Mack said. Then he started to laugh with a low roar. "Crash out... That's funny. No, I'm not ready for that yet, but when I am... I'll be out like a light... anyway..."

"Mack", I said, not wishing him to speak any further out of fear he would have an aneurysm trying to articulate his feelings, "I'm not going anywhere. I've been in this band for over a year. Yeah, I do other projects, but that's because I need to constantly do something creative or else I'll go nuts. But believe me, Mack, I'm giving this all I've got every time I hook up with you guys, and if it weren't for the fact that I have other pursuits and hobbies I'd probably be bugging you guys to death. You wouldn't be able to get rid of me if that were the case. You'd be sick of me you guys would probably even say 'Damn, James is cool and all but he's getting on my nerves' and you'd be correct in that assessment."

Then, without any cause or reason, I started singing that Tom Petty song with the lyrics about getting to the point and rolling another joint. It popped into my head and the drugs impelled me to croon it aloud.

Mack smiled and sang along. He knew the song, since he was a big Tom Petty fan since he was a kid.

When we got to the part where Petty goes, "You don't know how it feels to be me," I understood why that song hit me so suddenly: Mack's vibe was one of frustration, stemming from his disfigurement. Most of the time, on the surface he seems happy-go-lucky and energetic, but there is that bitter realization that he's not getting that finger back no matter what becomes of him.

It's something we all take for granted. You don't miss it until it's gone, and a physical quirk such as Mack's instantly separates a person from the rest of the crowd, leaving him isolated and alone.

In short, no one knows how it feels to be him, just as no one knows how it feels to be me, or Tom Petty, or anyone else out there. We try our best, but we can only get so close before we realize we have to step back or else get swallowed up by someone else's excess baggage.

Unlike my talk with Carrie, I knew that Mack would not be opening up to me about anything of that nature for a long time. This was the closest he could get before retreating behind his mask. Of course, when the time comes I will be eager to listen to him and share my own demons with him, because I can do that-- but only if someone has been brave enough to share their demons with me openly.

"We have a lot in common," I said to Mack after our impromptu chorus ended. "More than you know, Mack."

"No, I know what you mean," he said. "I can see it in your eyes, man. I don't know what it is exactly, but I see it. I recognize it. Maybe one day we'll get a drink, shoot the shit, and nail it to the wall."

He was far more coherent than he was five minutes prior. I guessed that perhaps he had been in the throes of an Exstasy wave rushing through his bloodstream, and now the wave was ebbing away, poising itself to return shortly.

Roy was sitting next to Mack the whole time, listening but not commenting. Finally, he chimed in with, "Man, I'm hungry. No shit, I'm fuckin' hungry now!"

Mack, Roy's childhood friend and confidante, switched gears and humorously pretended to be irritated by his blanket statement. "Hungry? You gotta be kidding. How much E did I give you? There's no way you're hungry right now."

"I know, I agree," Roy said plainly, his Ray Liotta resemblance more startling than ever. "But my stomach doesn't lie. I need food, water, anything."

"There's still some food back at the Jockey Club," Mack said. "I think we're done here anyway. Just wait it out-- we'll go back to the room and you can pig out there. You're not hungry hungry, are you?"

"Naw, I'm not starving," Ray retorted. "I just need a little something in my gut. And I don't want to eat at a buffet, so I'll wait until we get back."

"That's the spirit," Mack said, all smiles now. The demon was gone for now. "Patience is a virtue." Then he turned to me and started doing his version of my Tony Montana impression. "Ay mang, choo not fokkin' hongree too, eh? 'Cuz if choo iz, choo ain't gettin' not-teen brum me, choo caca roach!"

I responded in kind. "Whaddon choo try steekin' choo head opp choo ass an' see eef eet feets, mang..."

Just then, JJ and the others approached us, after bidding his friend farewell.

"Y'all ready to split?" JJ asked, his unflinching blue eyes locked and loaded.

"Yeah, man, we're more than ready," Mack said. "Roy's hungry too. Anyone else?"

The rest of us shook our heads and declined any food requests.

"You OK to drive?" Mack said to me.

"Fuck yeah," I said defiantly. It was true: I was feeling better after the last E wave, and figured if we could make out the door quickly I could get to wherever I was going next without any trouble.

"You going back to your hotel?" JJ asked.

"Not right now. They're all asleep and I think I'd have to crash on the floor. I'll follow you guys and kick it until the sun comes up... if you guys don't mind."

"Listen to this guy," Mack said, incredulous. "If we don't mind? Dude, you were supposed to be in that room with us, remember? You're more than welcome-- there's plenty of space for all of us."

"OK, I'll follow you guys. I passed by it a few times before the show, so I know where it's at."

Buddha spoke up and said, "I know James is able to drive, but as for the rest of you I'm going to get behind the wheel. I'm pretty straight right now."

"Man," JJ said, "Where did we find this guy anyway? So fucking cool, so fucking mellow... Oh, that's right, James brought him in."

I smiled. It always feels good to be acknowledged for positive things.

As we all walked to the parking garage, JJ talked about a new arrangement for our version of The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For The Devil".

"The way we do it is great, but I had an idea for the intro. When we get back to L.A. I'll elaborate a little more, but I think it will make the song even better than it already is. God, I'm so psyched about our band! We're finally gelling-- we're a team!"

For the first time since I started playing bass for Missing Digits, I didn't feel awkward hearing JJ gush enthusiastically about the band. I didn't cringe at the naked sentiment behind his words. I didn't feel like I was just sitting in with a band until the right opportunity came along.

I realized that the opportunity was right there in front of me, or under my nose, or however one wants to phrase it. I felt like I bonded with the band in a way that I never anticipated.

Or maybe it was just the E working its magic... I don't know.