2001-08-15

Evan Dando

You know how you wake up some mornings just absolutely convinced that you're going to have a terrible day, that it's going to be more of the same ol', same ol', so you may as well just trudge through it so you can be home all the faster and watch television? That's how I woke up this morning, and I just could not have been more wrong.

Actually, most of the day really was pretty putrid, and by 4:30 or so, I realized that I had to go to band practice, and the thought just completely bummed me out. I was not feeling at all creative or musical, having spent the better part of the day schlepping five dozen boxes of old financial records down two flights of stairs to the dumpster. But I also knew that I'd blown off the last two practices, and to fink out would be lame. So I dutifully made my way over to the rehearsal space.

Dave and Tom were already there, and listened sympathetically to my tale of drudgery and grunt labor. We engaged in a very rare indulgence, and began hashing out some new songs.

"Oh, hey," Tom said, "Didja know that Evan Dando is practicing across the hall from us tonight?"

"You're shitting me..."

"No, man. I'm serious. Winsten or somebody told me about it. I forget. He's practicing for a show."

I made a good stab at trying to act unimpressed about the matter, throwing in the requisite "Evan Dildo" jokes, but secretly I was damn near close to incontinent: "Ohmigod. Evan Dando." Swoon. I glanced down at my soda can. Perhaps I needed another soda, maybe about the time Evan Dando took a break. I coughed. Mentioned that my throat felt a little scratchy, probably from all the dust kicked up from hauling boxes; might need another soda soon.

Eventually, I could control my girly impulses no longer. I flung our door open, bounded into the hallway, and began bopping around as Evan Dando sang "It's A Shame About Ray."

I bounded back in, and announced to Dave and Tom: "This is amazing! It's like when I was 21, stoned, and listening to the Lemonheads, except now I'm 31, stoned, and listening to the Lemonheads!"

It wasn't until later that I realized that most people would find that statement really pathetic.

Finally, Dave and Tom got me to settle down, and with all thoughts of stumbling into Evan Dando outside the bathroom effectively quashed, I sat down and actually began to concentrate on my drumming.

We started working on this piece we're tentatively calling "Retro Bitches," a nice little mock-disco epic. We're jamming along, when all of a sudden the door opens.

First thing I think is, "Oh, it's Heath, or maybe one of the other Anchormen (the band we share our space with)." The guy comes in, gives us a hearty thumbs-up, and begins disco-dancing behind Dave.

I look at him, then look over at Tom. Tom looks at me. We keep playing. Evan Dando smiles at us, and we smile at Evan Dando. Then he turns around, dances out of the room, and closes the door behind him.

Tom and I kept playing for about 30 more seconds, and then we stopped. "Tom," I said, trying to keep my shit together, "that...was awesome."

"That was probably the most surreal 90 seconds of my life."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah, that was great. You guys were laying it down..."

"Could you believe that?" I practically shrieked, "That was INSANE."

"He just walked right in..."

"Wait," Dave said, "Who walked in? Did someone walk in?"

"Dave. You didn't see Evan Dando disco-dancing behind you?"

"Are you serious?"

"Dave. He was right there."

"Holy shit. And here I was thinking you guys were blown away by me."

There is so much to be said for the entire scenario. It was so improbable, so perfect on so many levels. For one thing, there I was trying to pretend that I didn't care, when secretly I was trying to perfectly time my soda run. It turned out to be a moot point: I did not have to seek out Evan Dando; Evan Dando found us.

The icing on the proverbial cake was the fact that Dave didn't realize he was there.

Never go with your first impressions in the morning, chickens. Sometimes, a mere minute-and-a-half can make the rest of the day disappear.

lisamcc at 9:39 p.m.

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