asks.
“The, uh, I don’t know… four feet of snow on three sides of the bus?”
“It’s snow,” he says, blowing me off. “We’re driving a bus.”
“Hey, Ben? You see those street lamps you parked under?”
“Yeah.”
“They give off this thing called heat .”
“So?”
“Heat makes the nice, fluffy snow into this thing called ice. And more fluffy snow falls down on top of that, melts, and makes more ice. Have you felt this snow?” I walk over to the front of the bus, dust off the fresh layer of snow and smack the compressed ice that’s already worked its way into the front grill of the bus.
“Fuuuuuck. How long do you think it’ll take for the engine heat to melt it?”
“Seriously?” I ask him, and as if the gods are out to make fools of us all tonight, we hear the engine sputter out and die as all the lights go off inside.
“Tavo!” Damon shouts. “Please tell me you did that.” When we don’t hear a response, our singer climbs on the bus, and we hear our drummer frantically yelling from the back of the bus.
“Stop fucking around, guys! I’m on the can!”
“Shit,” Peron says. “Shit, shit, SHIT!” We all climb back on the bus and shut the door to escape the continuing onslaught of snow, turning our phone screens on for light. Ben finds a flashlight that doubles as a lantern in the glove box. He tries to start the bus again, but to no avail.
“Where’s the hotel, Ben?”
“Six miles west.”
“Okay. That’s not gonna work. There aren’t any closer?”
“I’m sure there are. That’s just the one I liked.”
“All right.”
“Here’s one,” Damon says. “Two blocks from here.”
“We can’t leave our gear on the bus, man. Guitars don’t like sub-zero temps,” I tell him. “Basic laws of thermodynamics…”
“Oh, shut up, Will,” Ben says.
“We carry whatever we can,” Damon interrupts. “We’ll make two trips if we have to.”
“Hello?” a woman’s voice calls to us from outside. “Ben?” I step away to see who’s there.
“Lola? What the fuck?!” I stare at her, wondering how she got here.
“Lola?” Ben stumbles over Damon as he makes his way to the door. “Well, let her in, for Christ’s sake, Will!”
“Come in…”
“What are you doing here?” he asks her, pushing off her wet coat and embracing her in a warm hug.
“I was going to surprise you… I’ve been traveling all day. I didn’t think I’d make it.”
“How… did you make it in this ?”
“I hitched a ride from the airport on a snow plow.”
“You what ?”
“Don’t be mad!” she squeaks, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “I did it for you,” she whispers.
“Oh, my sweet Lola-pop. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, disgusted at the nickname.
“I’m good now,” she says, going back to sucking his face off.
“Guys, we don’t have time for this,” I say.
“You’re just jealous,” Ben comments. Lola’s eyes meet mine briefly. I really was hoping I’d never have to see her again.
“I’m cold, and we need to try to get a room, because I bet quite a few of the fans didn’t even attempt the drive home, and they’re probably enjoying the warmth and hospitality of that hotel right now.”
“Good point.”
“I’m on the phone with them now,” Damon says. “They have two rooms. One with two twin beds and a pull-out couch and another with one double bed.”
“We, uh…” Ben says, looking at Lola.
Damon orders a cot for the bigger of the two rooms as I glare at Ben and his girlfriend. She couldn’t have shown up at a worse time.
“What?” our manager asks. “It’s probably bigger than this bus. You act like it’s a problem… it’ll be fine. It’s one night.”
“Peron, let’s grab our guitars,” I say to him, looking over at him as he sits on the couch. I hadn’t noticed how quiet he’d been since we got back on the bus, but I can tell from the glow of his cell phone screen that he’s swiping
“The, uh, I don’t know… four feet of snow on three sides of the bus?”
“It’s snow,” he says, blowing me off. “We’re driving a bus.”
“Hey, Ben? You see those street lamps you parked under?”
“Yeah.”
“They give off this thing called heat .”
“So?”
“Heat makes the nice, fluffy snow into this thing called ice. And more fluffy snow falls down on top of that, melts, and makes more ice. Have you felt this snow?” I walk over to the front of the bus, dust off the fresh layer of snow and smack the compressed ice that’s already worked its way into the front grill of the bus.
“Fuuuuuck. How long do you think it’ll take for the engine heat to melt it?”
“Seriously?” I ask him, and as if the gods are out to make fools of us all tonight, we hear the engine sputter out and die as all the lights go off inside.
“Tavo!” Damon shouts. “Please tell me you did that.” When we don’t hear a response, our singer climbs on the bus, and we hear our drummer frantically yelling from the back of the bus.
“Stop fucking around, guys! I’m on the can!”
“Shit,” Peron says. “Shit, shit, SHIT!” We all climb back on the bus and shut the door to escape the continuing onslaught of snow, turning our phone screens on for light. Ben finds a flashlight that doubles as a lantern in the glove box. He tries to start the bus again, but to no avail.
“Where’s the hotel, Ben?”
“Six miles west.”
“Okay. That’s not gonna work. There aren’t any closer?”
“I’m sure there are. That’s just the one I liked.”
“All right.”
“Here’s one,” Damon says. “Two blocks from here.”
“We can’t leave our gear on the bus, man. Guitars don’t like sub-zero temps,” I tell him. “Basic laws of thermodynamics…”
“Oh, shut up, Will,” Ben says.
“We carry whatever we can,” Damon interrupts. “We’ll make two trips if we have to.”
“Hello?” a woman’s voice calls to us from outside. “Ben?” I step away to see who’s there.
“Lola? What the fuck?!” I stare at her, wondering how she got here.
“Lola?” Ben stumbles over Damon as he makes his way to the door. “Well, let her in, for Christ’s sake, Will!”
“Come in…”
“What are you doing here?” he asks her, pushing off her wet coat and embracing her in a warm hug.
“I was going to surprise you… I’ve been traveling all day. I didn’t think I’d make it.”
“How… did you make it in this ?”
“I hitched a ride from the airport on a snow plow.”
“You what ?”
“Don’t be mad!” she squeaks, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “I did it for you,” she whispers.
“Oh, my sweet Lola-pop. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, disgusted at the nickname.
“I’m good now,” she says, going back to sucking his face off.
“Guys, we don’t have time for this,” I say.
“You’re just jealous,” Ben comments. Lola’s eyes meet mine briefly. I really was hoping I’d never have to see her again.
“I’m cold, and we need to try to get a room, because I bet quite a few of the fans didn’t even attempt the drive home, and they’re probably enjoying the warmth and hospitality of that hotel right now.”
“Good point.”
“I’m on the phone with them now,” Damon says. “They have two rooms. One with two twin beds and a pull-out couch and another with one double bed.”
“We, uh…” Ben says, looking at Lola.
Damon orders a cot for the bigger of the two rooms as I glare at Ben and his girlfriend. She couldn’t have shown up at a worse time.
“What?” our manager asks. “It’s probably bigger than this bus. You act like it’s a problem… it’ll be fine. It’s one night.”
“Peron, let’s grab our guitars,” I say to him, looking over at him as he sits on the couch. I hadn’t noticed how quiet he’d been since we got back on the bus, but I can tell from the glow of his cell phone screen that he’s swiping
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