On my 20th birthday in 1982, my bandmates bought me that leather strap, and it's seen hundreds of gigs; it was a sweet gift because my job at the record store barely covered my car payment and rent. The lead guitarist also opened up his father's well-stocked liquor cabinet. I chose a 5th of JB Scotch. 3 hours later, I was naked on West End Ave. in Nashville. The city has recovered better from the tornados than they have from my birthday dance. At some point I dressed, and we went to our hangout, the Bennigans on White Bridge Rd. The manager greeted us, and I said, "Today's my 21st birthday." He said, "You've been drinking here for two years." I laughed. On my 21st birthday, I went in with a few friends and told the manager that I'd lied the year before but that I was in fact 21 today. I showed him my ID. "Fucker," he said, but he didn't care. During that year 82-83, we played some very good gigs and were building our name and attracting a core audience. We had some connections and were ready to rock. However, I got sick, and that was that. That band was fun, and I'm still close friends with my talented co-singer Stacey and the lead guitarist Terry.
