A wee story, involving a floor of Irishman, two Americans, and a guitar.
They came to me like two shy children asking their "cool" uncle to teach them how to go fishing (or some other equally uncle-esque activity....). Neither wanted to admit how much they each wanted me to do what they wanted me to do.
"Jeremy," David said, pointing, "Ryan is down... you know what would really cheer him up? If you played for him on the guitar."
"Fuck off, David," Ryan quickly chimed in. "It's David, Jeremy, David wants you to play for us... him... on the guitar."
I looked at them both, bemused, and then at Kevin and Barry, who were also lurking in the hallway, waiting for my answer. "You guys want me to play the guitar for you?" I asked, turning back to David and Ryan. They both nodded. "OK." I said. "I'll do it. Get Connor's amp, and we'll play in the kitchen." Off they went, scampering to Connor's room; once again, I couldn't help comparing them to a couple of 10-year-olds. Strangely, the comparison might not be so far off the mark....
We set up in the kitchen, with the whole floor gathered around to listen. It was like a camp-fire sing-along. Inside. Without the camp-fire. But there was singing along. So the characterization is half right! It took a couple goes at some Guns N' Roses songs (played especially for Ryan, who had requested them) before I was warmed up, but then I went on with some Beethoven, Oasis, The Beatles, and, well, a bit of everything in between. I'd like to point out that I'm not a particularly good guitar player; they didn't seem to mind. It seemed like they genuinely enjoyed every minute of it, and you should have seem 'em singing along during "Wonderwall!" Ahh, it was a good time....
Ryan had a go at it, of course. I think he has dreams of being a rock star. At present, he'll have to settle for being in a punk band; he can't play guitar. At all. Didn't stop him. He bashed away on the open strings (occasionally attempting - sometimes with success - to play a fretted note) for quite a while, until David, er, I'll say "politely suggested" that he pass the guitar to somebody else. Which leads us to....
"Play 'Smells Like Teen Spirit!'" This was James, a friend of the guys' who doesn't live on the floor.
"Fuck off!" Barry, guitar in hand, strummed the first chord of the song, "I hate that bloody song. It annoys me."
"Come on..." James said. "I'll sing along!"
"You'll sing along?" Moving his fingers down one string, Barry shifted to the second chord. "You're not singing."
"I will, I will...."
Barry kept playing, but James still wasn't singing. "Stop being a fucking weak poof! 'I'll sing along.' Bah!"
"I don't know the words!" James protested. "I can't bloody understand them." He hummed a few bars. "All I know is 'With the lights out.... It's less dangerous....'"
"Here we are now, entertain us." I finished the lyric for him.
"Yeah!" He said, smiling.
Barry had gone back to the beginning and got to the fourth power chord. "Fuck this!" He said for the third time. "I'm not playing it!"
"Ahhh, no, play on!" Ryan, who had been sitting quietly off to the side since relinquishing the guitar broke in. His admonition got the gang through two verses of "Teen Spirit," no singing. It seems that James wasn't the only one who didn't know the words.....
And, it's 11:00pm and I'm tired from being up late last night playing guitar in the kitchen. So it's off to bed for me. I'll try and get back on those posting re: my Eurotrip. Sorry the blog has been a little sparse lately. Now you stay classy, San Diego (and elsewhere)!
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