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June 26, 2005

10:28 a.m.

The Scary Night Incident Far from Home

We're back from PA as of last night. I've now told this story so many times that I'm sick of it (how does Stephen King make it to the last edit?), but I'm determined to write it here and be done with it.

First of all, we played a place in Philly on Wednesday that was more or less fun even though we each made about $11. We stayed with some folks we know and next morning headed out for Forksville, PA. It was a drive that should have lasted maybe 5 hours but was considerably longer owing to about a thousand miles of "construktion" on I-80. I am spelling it with a "k" and putting it in quotes to signal the fact that there wasn't much actual construction going on during the two hours that we were in the traffic jam(s). There were simply fewer lanes from which to choose, unless one was inclined to slalom between the orange barrels. Anyway, we'd left plenty of time so we weren't late for the festival, but it used up all the patience I had been allotted for the day. Okay, and why is it that a truck will suck up each lane and drive one mile per hour all in a row so that all the cars behind have to do the same, regardless of how fast everyone in front of the trucks is going? Hm? Is this part of trucking school, the convoy ploy? I was not very charitable by the time we got through it, having to pee as I did and having a slight but persistent headache. In retrospect I give thanks for having a car with air conditioning (last summer it would have been a different and much sadder story), but at the time I was a tad grumpy.

The festival is held in a very rural part of Pennsylvania, in a town called Forksville. It's a fairly young festival, only 4 years old now, but they have some really good acts. We passed the county fairgrounds where it was situated and went on to the B&B where we were being lodged. Our hostess was very nice but her dog, a giant Airedale, almost immediately got her snout into my snack bag and scarfed the final 2/3 of a fat free black forest brownie that I was REALLY looking forward to having later. We went down into the chilly rooms and had a brief nap, then changed for the evening's performance.

Once on site we got down to the business of sound checking, which went very smoothly as the sound crew were fabulous. We were playing an indoor venue that looked like it could double as a horse arena, with a nice big stage and roomy risers on the other side. Two other bands also checked, and we went on first.

The attendance was a little slim, we learned, because half the audience (and the MC, a prominent Philly radio person) were ALL stuck in traffic. Hm. Made me feel a little better.

We played the best festival set we've ever played. The audience was fine, we were funny and brilliant, and the sound was so sweet.

Now, to the scary part.

********

We three bands stood outside talking until probably a little after midnight, basking in our mutual admiration society, trading information, and getting to know each other a little. Then everyone except me decided they wanted to go out to a local bar, so I opted to go back to the B&B on my own. I got in my car and started up the road. It was maybe two or three miles to the lodging.

Just up from the fairgrounds there was a stop sign, at which I took a right turn. I let a car go by first, and the next car was far enough back that I could only begin to see a glow of headlights, so I pulled out. A couple of minutes later, a car drove up behind me fast, tailgating and flashing high beams.

I checked my speed to make sure I wasn't going slowly; I was travelling at 40mph, exactly the speed limit. It was a winding road on the edge of nowhere and there was no shoulder, just a railing and a dropoff into woods for some time, so I couldn't pull over to let them pass. I kept going, and they kept dogging me.

Finally, where the road curved up and sharply to the right around a blind curve, the little black compact passed me with a roar and sped on.

A few seconds later, it slowed down.

I slowed down and kept my distance.

Shortly the driver tired of this, and sped up again, and I thought, he's too impatient to trouble me for long; he just wants to get going. We got back up to 40.

Then he slowed down again.

Then he stopped. In the middle of the lane. On a windy road. I kept my distance still, and stopped too.

We sat there.

About thirty seconds later, both car doors opened and two guys started to get out.

My heart was thumping so hard I could hardly think. I was in the middle of nowhere, alone, and guess what? There is NO CELL PHONE SERVICE in Forksville, PA.

The only thing I could think of clearly was that if they got all the way up to my car I was a goner. So as they stood up, I hit the gas and went around them, hearing expletives as I passed.

I knew I had a few seconds' headstart anyway, so I looked for somewhere to hide. I didn't think I could make it all the way to the B&B without them catching up to me again. For a while there was nothing, no side street or driveway or anything. Then I saw a large gravel parking lot on the right, leading to a big white building with a floodlight that wasn't exactly illuminating the parking lot. I pulled in to the far end of a line of cars and tried to tuck myself in behind them, hoping the black car would pass by.

Now you might think I'd done some pretty clever maneuvering so far, but believe me when I tell you that I was panicked. I couldn't think of single thing to do if they attacked me. Not one thing. I turned on my phone knowing full well there was no service (we'd learned this at the festival). I was shaking. I was also so scared that, although I was in relative darkness, I'd forgotten to take my foot off the brake.

One car passed by and turned down a side street and disappeared. I thought it might be them, but a few seconds later another car turned into the parking lot and pulled up beside my left flank and sat there with the lights on, facing me. I tried to restart my car, which doesn't start if it's not in park, and it was then I realized they must have seen my brake lights.

Again we sat there for half a minute. The driver turned on the interior light for some reason, and I got a vague glimpse of him. He stared at me and I shrugged at him through the window, as if to say, "Why?" Then the doors opened again and they both got out.

My mind was racing around an empty track. I could drive off again and be chased. That didn't seem to be an option. I certainly wasn't getting out of my car. The driver leaned over the top of his door and shouted, "What the FUCK is that, man? What the FUCK is that?" and the other guy, a bigger fellow, leaned back against his front corner and crossed his arms.

I couldn't sit and do nothing, and trying to escape seemed marginal, so there was only one thing left to do. I swallowed my heart and lowered the window just enough so they could see my face, and I said,

"Are you okay?"

Because some really small, distant part of my brain thought that if I said, "What did I do?" that would make me a victim, and if I said, "What are YOU doing?" that would antagonize. So there was simply no recourse besides asking after their wellbeing. And they were obviously NOT okay; and it didn't look like booze either. They were really high on something major. The driver shouted, "What the fuck were you doing, driving behind me with your brights on?"

Well, I hadn't had my brights on of course, and I wasn't that close when I was behind them, but obviously this was the reality the driver had chosen, so I said as kindly and as apologetically as I could that I'd never turned the brights on. Then he got this maniacal smile on his face and said something that sounded like, "We're the Freaks that... something something... in your car!" I had no idea what he was talking about, but then Passenger Man, who was still leaning against the car with his arms folded and shaking his head, moaned, "I just want to go home and go to bed. I can't take any more of this!" and he looked like he was about to cry. They were maybe mid to late 20s I'd guess, although I wasn't exactly studying them at that moment if you know what I mean. I asked again if they were all right, and Maniacal Smile Man shouted, "Where are all the other freaks in your car? Where are all the other freaks in your car??!" He looked excited, like a demon kid at a carnival where they kill everyone on the rides.

I said, "I... I'm sorry, but I just don't know what you mean." Passenger Man sobbed a little and said something about, "Oh, man... you're so sweet..." as though he'd expected, like, Pennywise to be driving my car.

Anyway, this went on for a bit, M.S.M. demanding to know where the other freaks were, and P.M. sobbing quietly to himself and shaking his head, wanting only to be on the other side of this bad, bad ride.

Finally I said, "I'm really sorry, but I really have to go." P.M. said, "Just go home and get some sleep, man." I replied, "That's what I'd really like to do." I glanced at M.S.M. and he wasn't showing any signs of coming toward me, so I said, "Just drive carefully, okay? Just be really careful!"

"She's so sweet," Passenger Man mourned softly, shaking his head and looking at the ground. Maniacal said nothing but kept smiling. I put the car in reverse and slowly backed out and turned towards the street. Once I was no longer facing them I turned the lights on, and drove through the gravel lot. A glance back showed them still standing outside the car, so I knew at least I had some time. I checked both ways, pulled out to the right and made my way to the B&B, trying not to hyperventilate. I got there, parked behind the barn out of sight, and went inside, shaking.

I was the only guest back so far, and Chloe the giant snarfing Airedale came into my room and put her gargantuan snout into everything, and when I tried to remove her from my shoe bag she actually snarled at me. Great, now the DOG is about to attack. I found an almond and threw it in the hall, and when she leapt after it I closed the door on her and locked it.

********

I told the story to my bandmates when they came in maybe an hour later, and I told it to the ten people at breakfast and then to Steve and later to Dar; I told it to the policeman whom our host suggested I give a report to, even though I couldn't provide a license plate number. It was only later that I wondered if M.S.M.'s taunts had been about my Scion, which looks a little like a clown car, especially, I imagine, if you're fucked up on mind altering drugs. But mainly, when I got back to the room, I went over it to see if there was something I could have done to avert the whole thing, like hit the brakes more seriously when they passed me so that they'd just go on and forget I was there, etc. In the end, even though at the time I felt mind-numbed and helpless, it seemed that I did the only thing that would have turned the situation around. I wondered, even, whether my intersecting their trajectory might have averted something worse, like them wrapping the car around a tree. I also felt strongly compassionate towards the passenger guy, as it was clear he didn't want to be there and was trapped in this death car with a madman who was living in a different dimension. So, believe it or not, I did a distance healing on him, and in the end included them both in the hopes that, when they came back down, they'd have another chance at a life without that kind of destructive behavior.

It also taught me that I don't have a plan for that kind of incident, and Chris suggested I get some pepper spray for my keychain. Truthfully I just about never find myself alone at night when we tour, so it had simply never occurred to me to arm myself. But I will now. And I'll remember the first rule of ninja driving: if you want to be invisible, take your foot off the brake.

And I'm thankful for the five tenets that I affirm every day, because the last one came in handy. "Just for today, I will be kind to others."



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