Tuesday, November 4th 2008

This is where it began to get sticky. I had just enough time to get my stuff on the hotel bed, take a piss and get downstairs to meet my ride to the “event”. I was feeling way overextended, emotionally, and I was beyond hungry, not a great combination. As I walked into the “athletic club” I notice a pool table covered in plastic….”it can’t be” I thought to myself as I was walked to my quarters.

It can be and it was. I knew I had to do a small strip tease prior to the blessed event, but I did not know it was going to be on a pool table. To make matters worse the music, or should I say lack of music was painful; it came from a source beyond my ear shot and spat out indecipherable pitches and beeps and was no where near danceable. As I began to reluctantly move and sway to the beat in my head, I began to move down the table only to nearly have my head impaled by a sprinkler head hanging out of the ceiling, directly dead center of the pool table. The other end was where the lube and towels were so I couldn’t dance there, oh yeah, he added some strawberries as well. I don’t know if he hoped I would use them in some naughty antioxidant-rich sort of way or if he put them there because I had nearly fallen over from a severe glucose deficiency 20 minutes earlier. I forgot to mention that not only was there a sprinkler jutting out of the ceiling but as it was, if I were an inch taller, this little show would not have happened. I literally had about an inch between my head and the ceiling. You can say that my space was limited but it would be like saying Global Warming is really nothing more than longer summers.

After that was done I retired to my room before the next and final installment of Johnny Does Toronto. I was fetched from my room shortly thereafter and just as we walked out of the room, the “promoter” if you will, mentioned casually that he had some really good classical music for me to dance to. I laughed suspiciously while telling myself “it can’t be.”

I walked in to the small room and got up on stage and looked over to see a small boom box sputtering sounds of strings. I really thought this was a joke and even said, as I stood there in my underwear, “you’re kidding right?” The patrons found this to be very humorous and laughed heartily, I think though, they laughed more out of embarrassment and pity for us than amusement.

I never get bitchy and I am always, always accommodating, but this was not going to happen. I told him he had to change it. He told me that was all he could find. He had a month to prepare for this, he had all day. HOW HARD IS IT TO GET A CD OF DANCE MUSIC? I had no idea how this happened. I stood there with my hands in my head clearly and intentionally showing my frustration, aggravation and extreme irritation as the knobs on the boom box were being turned. It wasn’t even a CD….it was the fucking radio. I was supposed to dance, and masturbate, to the sounds of quartets, commercials and announcers.

So there I stood as he turned through the channels, Spanish, metal, talk radio and lite rock squeeze out from the bright orange radio annoying me further. Finally I told him to just shut it off and leave the room. He left me in the silence of my irritation and the sounds of the audience; I pulled my hat down further and thought of how this was going to happen. I decided then, that the strings were the best it was going to get considering the alternative of silence. I called him back into the room and told him to put the classical station back on.

I looked at my audience… sort of… and told them that I knew they had paid to watch me dance before the deed, but it was not going to happen. With that I pulled down my underwear and began to do what it was that I was inevitably supposed to do. I went to that place in my head that all good “performers” have. It didn’t take long before I was through; another really good skill one must possess and thank God, I do very well. I wiped off and told the gentlemen that that was by far, in all my years, one of the most difficult things I had to do. They applauded and cheered. I bowed, left the stage and ate pizza.

This entry was posted by Johnny on Tuesday, November 4th, 2008 at 10:36 AM and is filed under Planes, Trains & Automobiles, Pounds, Schillings & Pence. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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