A Surreal Trip

Today I attended a benefit for a young man who was killed in a one-car accident about a month ago. The circumstances surrounding the crash are sketchy, but evidently the young man in question was a passenger in a vehicle that went off the road and hit a tree or rolled over or something like that. It isn't clear as to whether alcohol was involved. Not that it would make any difference. The pain of losing a loved one is neither worsened nor lightened by the presence of alcohol.

There was a band playing at the benefit, which was the true reason for my being there. Ghetto Princess and The White Trash are friends of mine, and I hadn't heard them play for a long time. I always enjoy hearing them play live. The leader of the band is an interesting figure. Moderately tattooed and pierced, she is a bundle of energy and a formidable band leader. Her voice is part Bonnie Raitt and part Bruce Springsteen. She can belt a rocker and pick the lead as well. The bass player gets better every time I hear him. He's just what you'd want a bass player to be: steady, on time, and always there. Just like a girlfriend, only without commitments. His bottom end (sonically speaking) fills out the band's sound. The rhythm guitarist is a kindergarten teacher that drives a motorcycle and wears leather britches. Easy Rider meets Miss Davis from Romper Room. She played a sparkly blue Les Paul, and comfortably bobbed and swayed, taking the occasional vocal lead. New since the last time I saw the band, there was a young gal playing violin. She took her turn at lead vocals on a few songs as well. Very good voice. Anger-driven yet understated. Behind the drum kit sat a tag-team of an experienced bluesman and an autistic cheetah worshiper. The former provided a solid back beat, and the latter proved a worthy conversationalist after the gig. He's certain that he would have done better with fewer drums. I think he did just fine.

There weren't very many people there, so not much money must have been raised. There was a silent auction and a raffle, but not a lot of folks there to generate the kind of cash that is needed to adequately memorialize a lost loved one. I saw people there that I don't normally encounter in my everyday life. Guys with poster-sized tattoos and multiple piercings. I saw one guy with a silver stud through the bridge of his nose. It looked good with the two little braids sticking out of his goatee. I saw a pregnant girl drinking and smoking. I saw little kids running through mud puddles. I didn't see any NASCAR jackets or NFL jerseys.

I hope that the benefit gets the people what they need. I never knew the man who died, but I know that there are a bunch of hard-living, balls-to-the-wall partyers who loved him very much and miss him an awful lot.