Another Sign of Spring

Here's another certain sign of spring: the graduation party. I had to stop and take a picture of "Adam's Party" because it made me smile. Signs similar to this, sometimes accompanied by a "bouquet" of balloons, suddenly pop up, like trilliums, along Wisconsin county roads.

Sometimes I daydream about going to a card shop and investing in about a dozen graduation cards, getting all duded up with a tie, and going party hunting in my car. I imagine myself following the "Adam's Party" sign to the destination, stopping just down the road, filling out the card from your "third cousin, Larry" and then making my appearance at the party, just to watch the bewildered faces of the gathered, as I stuff myself with whatever is laid out as graduation goodies, making a complete ass of myself (not too tough a task) and then, when finally asked to leave, just moving on in search of --

What's really scary is that some years ago I used to get calls to entertain at those "All night graduation lock up" parties at high schools that were thrown by concerned parents and PTA members to keep the little darlings from drinking on graduation night.

The whole concept is/was totally disgusting to me, and except for the fact that I am/was a whore, I really should have had nothing to do with them.

First of all, the thinking is flawed. Okay, so you keep them from drinking on graduation night. What's to keep them from moving their alcoholic bash to the night after?

And the excess made me ill. There were activities all night long with contributed door prizes such as iPods, TV sets, ear phones, yada yada, ad nauseum,

Kid food from dusk until dawn: Popcorn, peanuts, candy, pizzas.

My whoring finally came to an end the night I did one of these parties at one of the high schools in Wausau. I was scheduled to go on at 3AM, so I arrived at two and of course, I was performing on second floor in the commons, which meant dragging all the sound equipment on and off elevators.

I notice when I start rolling gear into the room that each table has a huge bowl of M & M's, sans packets. While I am setting up, my audience of seniors begins to drift in, but there are no adults present at all.

Soon the seniors are whipping M & M's at each other across the room. I continue to bring equipment in, now walking on M & M's. The M & M fights continue until finally an adult arrives and tells them to stop. He doesn't lose it and tell them to pick up the M & M's, he just tells them to stop.

Show time arrives. I am seated on a three legged stool commandeered from a chemistry lab. I begin the show. the seniors are restless, noisy, and less than impressed.

About ten minutes into the show, someone fires a pizza crust at me. It is a direct hit on the guitar. Now it's quiet.

I say nothing. I just get up slowly, and begin tearing down my equipment. As I am putting my guitar back in the case, I glance to the back of the room to see several parents standing, arms crossed, against the wall.

My audience watches as I tear down, tittering occasionally.

When I have everything aboard, I seek out the woman who hired me to do this hell gig. I ask for my check. She holds it out towards me, but when I reach for it, she pulls it back and says: "You didn't do your full set."

I lean in to her and say: "Here's an idea. DON'T EVER HIRE ME AGAIN!" I snatch the check from her hand, turn on my heel and leave.

Oddly enough, I haven't done any more of those.