The band was my long-time buddy Doug, my girl Beck, "Little" Mikey Naylor, me and a guy named Hardy McGee. It's a shame we couldn't resolve our issues at the time, but that's what happens when interpersonal relationships are included in a band, and it rarely works. It's a shame, because that could've been a monster band.
Hardy was a trip. It'd be hard to describe him really, except to tell the story. He was a really nice guy and he was very talented, but there was something slightly "off," and again hard to describe. He was very intelligent and somewhat witty, so it wasn't a learning thing. We were buddies for a while and we hung out, until Beth.
Beck and I were dating, but Hardy had a huge thing for her. He wrote songs and poetry about her, including the classic, would-be hit "(We Were Married in a) Japanese Garden." I remember the rest of us trying not to snicker when he played and sang a rough draft for us. It was even funnier because, although he didn't say it, we knew it was about Beck. Sorry Hardy, but that's given us hours and hours of laughs in the years since. Thanks man!
The thing is, he already had a girlfriend named Beth, whom he was supposedly madly in love with. He was certainly possessive of her, and talked about her all the time, when Becky wasn't around that is. Beth was supposedly very beautiful and desirable, and I'm sure she was. Hardy was a good-looking fellow, and had no problems in that department anyway. To this day I've never laid eyes on Beth, but I really wish I could've at least seen her once, just to see what all the fuss was about. I never saw her, but poor ol' Hardy sure thought I had.
During that time a new Fridays popped up not far from us. We were overjoyed, because we'd be hungry after band practice, and back in those days, nothing much but Waffle House was open late. It beat the shit out of that. We'd hop on a quiet, beautiful backroad, which left enough time to smoke a leisurely bowl, and we'd be there in under ten minutes. Beth was waiting tables there. The very first night we went, she was supposed to be working. For some reason Hardy didn't want to go, but he said to say hello to Beth if we saw her. I said okay and didn't think anything about it.
We walked into Fridays and were greeted by a thick, beautiful lady with natural, flaming-red hair. I ended up getting with her that night, and we dated a good while. She was so much fun that we'd draw smiley faces on each other with markers, but that's another story, and pretty much as "kinky" as I ever got with a woman. We asked for Beth, but they said she'd left early. Someone said they'd seen her get into a red Porsche, which added a little intrigue. And that's how the trouble started.
Next practice Hardy asked me if we'd met Beth and I said no, that she'd left early. I thought it best not to mention the red Porsche, but otherwise it was true. It wasn't good enough for Hardy though. A while after I told him we hadn't seen her, he came up to me and asked "Are you sure you didn't see Beth?" I was a bit taken aback he'd ask that, but I repeated that she wasn't there. "Okay" replied Hardy, "but you'd tell me if you saw her, right?" That question took me further aback, and I could see trouble ahead.
It became a routine, repeated every single time I saw him thereafter. "Are you sure you didn't meet Beth?" he'd ask. "How could I not be sure?" I'd ask, but it was never good enough. "Okay...but you'd tell me if you saw her, right?" "Hardy...man...look me in the eye...I'm telling you I never saw her, okay?" "Okay...but you'd tell me, right?" It was funny at first, but soon became a joke, and slightly-counterproductive. It started to fuck with the band, and incredibly the subject of whether or not I'd met Beth became more important to Hardy than the band. And he was still pining away for Beck. Crazy.
I have to say the hormones were flying around that practice room. Doug was very gracious in letting us hang out all night, and having a hot tub only fueled the fire. In a weird way, everybody was somehow connected to each other sexually, although it was a would-be situation in most cases, so there was a lot of unrequited love, and all this crazy energy flying around the room. It did make for some impassioned music.
Anyway I was allegedly exclusively dating her, but everybody else wanted her too. It made for some interesting dynamics within the band. But back to Hardy and Beth. That was the strangest thing of all.
On and on it went, like a tired comedy routine. "I never saw her, man...I promise." "Okay...but you'd tell me if you did, right?" Once a practice would've been quite enough, but he'd literally repeat it ten times a night. "My answer is never going to change, Hardy." "Okay...but you'd tell me, right?" One night, out of sheer repetitive-injury, I lost my cool and yelled "OKAY MAN...YEAH...I MET HER AND I FUCKED HER. SHE WAS GOOD TOO!" That was definitely the wrong approach, but I had to try, because the truth certainly wasn't doing the trick.
After a week or two of this, he took it to another level. He got it into his head that not only had I met her, but that we were secretly dating behind his back, and that I was bringing her back over to Doug's after he left, of all things. Hardy was usually the first to leave, while the rest of us would hang out and party. About the third week after I'd allegedly met Beth, he'd leave practice after we finished playing, only to return an hour or so later, claiming to be looking for his "notebook." Apparently that was his code word for Beth, since said notebook never existed, and we looked.
Bless his heart it was the only excuse he ever used, even when we questioned him, saying we'd never seen it. He'd be all bug-eyed and geeked-out looking. He looked like someone who'd done way too much coke, but I could never be positive. It's hard to imagine someone getting that worked-up over a notebook, but that was just his cover story. "What's up, Hardy?" we'd ask when he'd burst in an hour after practice. "I'm looking for my notebook. I think I left it." "We haven't seen it man." It became another ritual.
It also became fodder for some songs of our own. I penned a little ditty called "Girlfriend," in honor of Hardy and Beth. It went something like this:
Girlfriend
She was lookin' for adventure
She was lookin' so fine
She got into a red Porsche
Said she was lookin' for a good time
(good time good time)
She might be YOUR girlfriend
She might be HIS girlfriend
She used to be MY girlfriend
Girlfriend, girlfriend
We sometimes still sing it to this day. Between Girlfriend and (We were Married in a) Japanese Garden," at least Party Hats has provided some great laughs. What's also funny is that we could've learned Girlfriend, and never told Hardy that it was about him. Anyway I was a complete drunken asshole on our first gig, which ended up not happening at all, and we never really recovered. I don't see how we could've carried on much longer anyway, with all the unbridled hormones flying around. It's a shame, but it happens. We played everything from Prince to Heart to Devo to (We were Married in a) Japanese Garden. That could've been a wickedly-good band, and the name was tops I thought.
The reason I'm telling this story is because I ran into Hardy a couple weeks back when I went out to see a band. I wouldn't have recognized him if someone hadn't told me who he was. I was shocked. I don't look very good myself these days, but Hardy hasn't aged well. He looked gaunt and shorter, and he looked like he had "old man" makeup on. I felt bad. He was by himself, and I wanted to speak to him, but I knew so many people there that I never got a chance to say hello.
I cracked up when I found this drawing I made of him about ten years ago, after I happened to catch an episode of the legendary local show The country Boy Eddie Show, where he was billed as "Smiles McGee." It made my day. I posted this drawing on Facebook, and forgot about it. The other day I was looking for his FB account, which I didn't find, but this popped up in the search. I sent it to Beck and I believe she said "Brilliant."
Oh, and the "MaGeeber" thing...one night Doug and I had gone to Fridays, and when we got back, our friend Champ was there. At the time he had a racing-orange MGB, with a silver racing stripe on the side, with MGB in bold letters. We'd been talking and laughing about the Beth situation, and when we saw the big MGB letters, we both hollered at the exact time, in stereo, "MaGeeBer!" It was classic. Of course it became his nickname, mainly because the Beth thing was becoming a pain in the arse.
So the Legend of MaGeeber lives, and so does Hardy. By the time the band took their last break and it got quiet enough to talk without having to yell, I went looking for Hardy, but he was gone. Doug was there too, and as far as I know he didn't speak to Hardy either. I'd have loved to say hello to him, and hopefully grab a photo, just for old times' sake, and to show Beck. I can guaranfuckingtee that if I'd spoken to him, eventually he'd say, "So, did you ever see Beth? You'd tell me if you did, right?" Crazy. God bless you Hardy, and you too, Beth. Hope you enjoyed that Porsche ride. Shhh...don't tell Hardy!
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