The Burp Heard 'Round the World

I told this story in my old blog, but as always, so what? It's probably one of those things where you had to be there, but it still makes me lol when I think about it, because it's such an unimaginable story. I'm glad as hell I didn't grow up with a cellphone wired to my hand, but things like this make me wish I'd had a portable recording device in my pocket. 

 If you happen to play in a band, they say you never forget your first gig at the beach, and they're right. For me it was the Generic Band in Panama City Beach, Florida. In many ways it's like a normal trip to the beach...when you're still about 15 miles out you roll down the windows and catch a whiff of the intoxicating aroma of salt air and dead fish...you see lawns changing from dirt to sand, with the vegetation changing accordingly...finally you see the ocean, and you can't wait to jump out of the car. You get a room and crank the AC. 

 You have a captain's platter, drink in the daytime, swim out into the ocean until you start thinking about the movie Jaws, and the theme starts playing in your head and so you swim closer to shore...hit the pinball arcade and a gift shop to buy some shells for your mom...drink more in the daytime...check out the talent and maybe talk shit to some of it if you can...all the while sniffing the coconutty aroma of sunscreen and tanning lotion...all that good stuff, plus you get to play music, and people think you're cooler than you really are. And oh yeah...you get paid. Coming back from the beach with more money in your pocket than when you left is pretty amazing. 

 Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned beer no doubt, I don't remember too many details about the gig itself, except that we had a blast, made some new fans and were invited back. It was a party for some friends, and having some of our fans there to "seed" the crowd really helped, and made it more fun for us. It's not so much the gig I remember...it's the burp I had the next morning.

 I don't know how many beers I had before, during and after the gig...I'd say at least 35. We probably partied 'til 4am or so but I don't remember. I do remember waking up early the next morning and my mouth feeling like the Sahara Desert. I should've pounded water but I wanted a Coke. There was a machine that had ice-cold cans, and that's what I thought I needed. I do remember that those suckers sure tasted good to a thirsty fool. 

 I stuffed a couple of quarters into the machine and the can plunked into the chute. I popped the tab. Back then the pull tabs separated from the can and were a real hazard to bare feet, so I made sure to throw it away. I took that glorious first sip, and it tasted so good I kept going, and downed the whole thing in about three seconds. Normally I can't take more than a few sips before it begins to burn my throat but I was still numb, so I slammed it. I went "AHHHHHH" afterwards. It could've been a Coke commercial if a couple of beach babes had been there, and I were tanned and buff.

 It tasted so good that I got another one and I slammed it too. That was unheard of, but rarely have I been that dehydrated in my life. I got a third one and headed back to the room. O' was up when I got back, so we sat out on our patio and smoked a morning bowl. We were at the corner of the ground floor of our hotel. It was next to a main path to the beach. People would walk by but we wouldn't see them until they rounded the corner. 

 As might be expected, I heard a rumble in my belly. I'd just pounded two cans of Coke and was working on a third, plus I still had God knows how much co2 in my system from all the beer I'd drunk, and it was seeking a way out. As I recall I hadn't let out air or gas in any form yet, but that was about to change. 

 Many of us as kids, and sometimes into adulthood, will say a word or phrase when we burp. I call it "Burpspeak" but I don't know if there's an official term for it. As you probably know, it gives a low, guttural and demonic quality to the voice. The funny thing is that a little girl can sound like a 350lb biker dude when she Burpspeaks, so a grown man can sound downright scary. If you've never tried it, give it a whirl. Saying "BELCH" is pretty funny, and a great way to get started. If you have enough air, you can burp: "PARDON ME."

 I felt a monumental burp coming on, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste and just burp. I had enough air that I probably could've recited the first five lines of the Declaration of Independence, but I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just burped a string of demonic-sounding syllables. 

 Just as I launched into the longest burp of my entire life, an innocent family of four came around the corner on their way to the beach. They were just in time to hear what I'm sure sounded like demonic possession or something. They got quiet in a hurry. I can't quote it exactly, but it was something like: "HOWWwwRRROWWWahhhWABBAYABBArrrrrrrahhhWOWWWWwaaaaHOWYOWwwwwRR, etc." It was deep and loud and it sounded pretty evil. It went on for a while. 

 The icing on the cake was what O' did, and it was perfect. He looked at the family and smiled. He held out his hands, palms down, and moved them up and down in sync as he bowed to them as if he were blessing them. I started laughing but I still kept burping, which made it sound even more satanic. I can still see the look on their faces, bless their hearts.

 The kids were closest to the building, but dad grabbed them and pulled them protectively in between himself and mom, which we thought was hilarious. They reckoned they'd stumbled onto a couple of Satan worshippers, summoning demons at 7:00 in the morning. Too much.

 As they passed by and continued on toward the beach, dad was keeping an eye on us. When he looked over his shoulder with a mixture of horror and disgust, the look on his face was reminiscent of the iconic Barry Godber painting on the cover of the first King Crimson album, seen here done in Spam. We absolutely lost it laughing, but I don't think the family was very amused. 

 I really wanted to apologize and tell them that I wasn't conducting a Satanic ritual at all, but that I'd slammed two Coca-Colas and was Burpspeaking, but I was laughing like a lunatic and couldn't talk. I'm sure hearing us both laughing hysterically didn't help, but at least no one was harmed...physically anyway. Hopefully there wasn't any permanent psychological damage. I can only imagine what it seemed like from their perspective, ha-ha. Again, bless their hearts. Sorry if we frightened y'all.

 It's true what they say...you never forget your first gig at the beach. Or your greatest Satanic burp. Pardon me.