This is why I’m an angry boater.
In 2009, I was on a stand up comedy tour across America’s Deep South. Even though I lived in Watford, Hertfordshire, stand up was something I had been doing in the US - with a modicum of success - since 1992. I’d performed in around 40 states and, at the time, had aspirations to become the first Brit to perform in all 50.
Prior to that I’d been a secondary school teacher and - at the same time - was working as a UK promoter of stand up comedy shows too.
Throughout all these phases of my life, I’d been afflicted with hypertension - quick to judge, quick to react & quick to snap.
I didn’t particularly enjoy living in England and treated my thrice yearly Stateside trips as my sanctuary. I lived for those trips.
*******
I was in Johnson City, Tennessee - a small, mountain town in the Deep South and I was feeling angry.
There was no stage lighting and a toy microphone - which had been plugged into a Juke Box with a blown speaker - served to muffle the first act rather than amplify him. Worst of all, the TV’s at the back were left on so that guests and the ambivalent staff could mingle at the bar and talk about sports.
All my buttons were being pressed. I’d come to America to perform - and I was in an environment which was undermining what I was there to do. I felt very disrespected.
After the show, an audience member attacked me and - at 1 am - the local police arrived at my room to kick me out of the hotel for having incited the assault.
4 hours later, I checked into a motel room in Asheville, Nth Carolina. I was seething. I turned on my video camera and made a video about what I had just been through. It’s uncomfortable viewing but, if you want to see it, the link is below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8DzwD3d2jA
I found out later that there had been a recent history of visiting entertainers being treated badly there. Unlike the others though, although I didn’t acknowledge this on the video, I reacted to the disrespect that was directed towards me by being disrespectful too.
Actually, the video spins a version of events that paints me in a good light but - deep down - I knew that a fair share of the responsibility was mine. I play the victim very well in the video, I think. I was a victim but I know I was responsible too.
Two days later, I was in Louisville, Kentucky licking my wounds. I was in a strange state - wounded, reflective - out of balance. That awful night had brought all my stresses to the surface and provoked some kind of autistic meltdown. My need to be in control, the challenge to my freedom and restrictions on how I communicated had caused me to over-react.
I did not know it then but it was a key turning point which would move me on to a new stage in my life.
I was in a wonderful record shop in Louisville called ‘Ear Ecstasy.’ It’s since closed, unfortunately. ‘Gomez’ were about to do an in store appearance to promote their new CD. and, afterwards, the guitarist was chatting to the audience.
Later that night they were doing a big show at ‘Headliners’ Music Hall, further up the road. If I knew if they were playing ‘Shot Shot’ - my favourite Gomez song - I knew I would go. I just wasn’t sure how to ask them without causing offence.
“Hey are you playing Shot Shot tonight ? To be honest I don’t want to waste my time with new material.”
I bought the CD and while the band were signing it, I had a chance to speak to the guitarist.
“Can I ask a cheeky question?” I began.
“Of course,” he replied.
“By any chance is Shot Shot on your setlist tonight?”
“Yes, it is actually.” He smiled.
I smiled too.
“You’ve just sold another ticket for tonight,” I said, “Because to be honest I really didn’t want to waste my time with new material.”
I went to the show and got to the front. There was a drunk girl next to me. She kept screaming and it was making me angry. I was about to snap but - just before I did - had a Johnson City flashback and restrained myself.
I was looking at her, considering possible strategies, and she caught my eye. She knew what I was thinking and smiled, a little sheepishly. Her look calmed me somehow. I smiled back and said, gently, “You’re not going to do that all night, aren’t you?”
“I’m sawrrrry, she said.” And that was it. `We had connected and she didn’t scream anymore.
The last song of the night was Shot Shot. Halfway through the song, I looked at the guitar player. He was looking right at me and giving me the thumbs up.
I was very happy.
After the show, I saw the drunk girl outside in the car park. She was on the ground, crying. I went over to her and, sobbing, she explained that she’d fallen over and was sure she had broken her thumb. Her tears were not about her physical pain - she had no medical insurance and had only just incurred a $2000 medical bill. Now, she could see it all happening again.
A week before, I would probably have lost my temper with her for screaming in my ear during the show and I can’t imagine I would have stopped to ask her about her troubles in the car park. However, my post-Johnson City state of self pity & vulnerability had opened my heart somehow and, for now, made me more gentle, given me more empathy, perhaps. There was some guilt too - a knowledge that I was partly to blame for what had happened to me. Maybe I felt the need to remind myself that I wasn’t a shitty person.
The girl, Jessie, was with a friend. His name was Lance.
I had a rental car and - after arranging for another Gomez fan with a truck to take their bikes home for them - I took Lance and Jessie to the hospital. On the way there, we talked bikes (I’d been planning to rent one the next day) and I asked if they knew anywhere I could do so. Lance happened to work for the local bike shop and had a spare bike which he offered to lend me for the rest of my time in Louisville.
I loved cycling. At the time, it was my favourite way to exercise and explore wherever I happened to be. I often rented bikes in America.
The next morning, I showed up at the bike shop and - true to his word - Lance had the bike ready for me. It was a little rusty and the brakes didn’t work so well but - as soon as I got on - I found it so comfortable, the coziest bike I’d ever sat on. I don’t have a great posture but this bike had me sitting in a naturally upright position. I loved it.
The brand was ‘Specialized.’
Within a week, I was back in England and I’d bought my own.
The next day, on my maiden journey, a perfect summer’s day, I decided to cycle from my flat in Watford to Tring, about 10 miles further to the north. I’d cycled short distances along the canal path on my previous bike - a cheap thing from Halfords - but it was so uncomfortable that a 5 mile round trip was my top limit. Any more than that was a surefire route to hemorrhoids. However, I knew I’d be able to go much further on this new bike so Tring was the plan.
I didn’t make it though.
Even though it was only a few miles from the town where I’d spent the last decade, I had never heard of Apsley. It was love at first sight.
There were dinky restaurants on the waterfront, a beautiful waterside pub and a small marina housing 50 or so narrowboats. One of the restaurants was called 'Woodys' - a vegetarian cafe. I had lunch there, outside, overlooking the water.
After my spinach and feta crepe, I bought a scoop of ‘Aged Prune and Armagnac' ice cream and wandered over to have a closer look at the marina. I met some of the residents and the warden. We got on very well. We chatted for over 2 hours and one of them gave me a beer.
I had always seen myself as an outsider by - at that moment - I felt connected to these people. I could feel myself bursting to live there.
I had an epiphany. I was going to buy a boat and I was going to live in Apsley. I told my new friends my plans but they didn’t believe me.
The next day, I saw 10 narrowboats. The day after that, I saw another 5 and - by the end 5 pm - I’d bought one.
Within a week, my epiphany had become a reality. For 2 happy years, I lived in Apsley and ate at Woodys most days.
My unhappy experience in the Deep South triggered a chain of events that led to my lifestyle change.
If I hadn’t reacted so badly to my stressful Tennessee situation, I would not have been attacked.
That moment and my subsequent expulsion at the hands of the local police humbled me to the point that I needed to bring love and balance back into my life. It was the reason that I arrived in Louisville with an open heart - a vulnerable demeanor that made me want to reconnect with the universe. It’s why I was in a ‘go with the flow’ mode, why I went to that Gomez night and ended up helping Jessie and Lance.
My good deed led Lance to help me with my quest for a bike.
Lance’s good deed introduced me to ‘Specialized’ bikes and led me to buy one of my own.
If it wasn’t for Lance and the bike, I still probably would not have heard of Apsley and I would not have had that magical day on the Towpath that led me to Woodys and my people. Why else would I have been motivated to buy a boat? I fell in love with that place and those people. A boat made me one of them.
*******
5 years on, here I am, sitting on my little boat in Little Venice, reflecting on fate and the wonderful new life that my stressy nature eventually brought my way.
I am less stressed these days. I love being in England now too. Being here on the canals is wonderful. The thrills and joy I used to get from being in America have morphed into my life here. England is full of joy for me now. There are bad times of course but embracing the lows allows me to enjoy the highs. I feel alive again and no longer have to fly to the US to have that feeling.
My stress reached a breaking point that led me to this life - a life where my stress is more manageable.
The antidote was right there in the heart of the problem.
Joel
January 27th, 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment