On the bus

I had my first groupie experience Friday night, and it was pretty interesting. I’m not a big country fan, but a band that’s apparently popular was playing a free show, so I went with a couple of country-loving friends. We met the band after, and I made friends with one of the guitar players (I don’t really know anything about music, and I don’t remember any of their names). I was fascinated by this man’s hair. It was so country-gone-pop. I’m guessing he’s a natural blond, but someone thought it would be a good idea to give him low lights and subject him to a flat iron. They invited us back to their bus, and I was too curious to say no. My observations:

• It smelled like feet. After I said this out loud, one of the guys quickly assured me it was just the stack of pizza boxes I was smelling—and offered me a slice—and for some reason I ate it.
• My new friend’s hair had indeed been flat-ironed. After I asked him about it, I lied and told him I liked it. He seemed a little self conscious and is probably a very nice person.
• Although these guys were not particularly good looking, they lassoed in quite a lot of ladies. The most attractive of the bunch walked a girl out of a back room shortly after we got on, escorted her off, and proceeded to proposition my friend (unsuccessfully) for a round two—or for all I know, round three or four, or more! Note to self: Never date a musician. Well, I could make an exception for G. Love…