We all make stupid “quick decisions”, and some are more stupid than others- I would argue, the younger you are, the greater the severity of stupid, and then as we approach our FINAL decisions, they go a bit dumb again-

It was the early 90s and I had just joined a touring punk/funk band- They were successful, in a sense- They were on a Warner Bros subsidiary label, had an album out with a tune featured in a new Pauly Shore movie, had their own house for the whole band to live in, and toured around the US constantly- Yet, their bass player had run out the door with no notice- The keyboardist remembered me from the music school we had both attended in Dallas, Texas- So he called me up out of the blue offering me the position- I had 2 days to get from Athens, Georgia to Lawrence, Kansas- I was to learn all the material, have one day of rehearsals at their house, and then go on the road for a string of shows in the Southwest- At the time I had taken a break from my last year of college, was playing in a couple bands, and had just gotten married 3 weeks prior to this phone call- So other than being a newlywed, I was wide open to go- I put the keyboardist on hold, got a thumbs up from my new wife, and 2 days later was rehearsing in a basement 900 miles away-

The idyllic touring band life was anything but- Half the band didn’t trust the other half- When I arrived from my 14-hour drive, I was immediately met outside by the keyboardist- He informed me that the only band members to take instruction from were to be either the lead singer or himself, and to disregard any other suggestions by the other members- After our first rehearsal for the day, the drummer and guitarists whisked me away to a pizza joint where they informed me not to pay attention to what the lead singer or keyboardist had to say- Furthermore the singer was a heroin addict and his heroin-addicted girlfriend would be accompanying us on tour with their two big stupid dogs- In reality, both sides were right, and wrong- The singer wrote most of the original material and WAS a herion addict, but was “in recovery”- One guitarist was perpetually drunk and just on stage for his looks- The other guitarist did most of the musical heavy lifting, and wrote his own parts- The keyboardist didn’t do much beyond triggering sound effects and throwing fists in the air- The drummer was OCD, ADHD, and more suited for any genre of music other than the genre we played- The girlfriend corraled the dogs, and made giant cardboard masks she’d hide behind on stage, and ended up naked by the end of the show- I ended up being the middleman, playing the bass and driving the van- Our driver was a terrible driver and drunk with the guitarist most of the time- As the most normal-looking member of the band, I was stopped at multiple venues from entering, despite my assertations of band membership- So after one particularly frustrating half-hour spent arguing with a bouncer outside a Chicago club, I bought a jar of Manic Panic and dyed my hair bright blue-

2 jars of hair dye and 8 ridiculous months later, we pulled into Cinncinnati for a show at Sudsy Malone’s- This place doubled as a laundromat, and was a popular place for touring bands of the punk/grunge/alternative music scene of the late 1980s and 1990s- We had played this place a few times since I had joined the band, and I had made a few friends while waiting for my clothes to dry- After our set that night, we learned of a party being thrown by some folks at an old townhouse within walking distance of the club- The local friends of mine were all going to attend, so I wanted to show up with something to offer the party- There was apparently a keg, so I thought a snack or two would be appropriate- The rest of the band thought this a silly and square idea, so I walked into the 24/7 Safeway grocery store near the party by myself-

At 12:30AM it was sparsely populated, with just one register open- I found the crackers/chips/nuts aisle and grabbed a box of Triscuits- Heading to the register I remembered these crackers were pretty bland without anything on them, so veered over to the refrigerated section for some cheese- I noticed a grungey looking kid wearing a Cypress Hill t-shirt meandering around the produce, but didn’t see anyone else other than the cashier at the register- Their cheese section was pretty sad, but they did have a couple decent-looking cheeseballs- I grabbed one and glanced at the price- It was 3.99, which was more than I wanted to spend- Yet, with a cheeseball, folks could just scoop some onto their triscuit without the need of a knife- I looked around, seeing only the Cypress Hill kid thumping a pineapple, and put the cheeseball in the back pocket of my baggy pants- I walked up and down a couple aisles, pretending to browse, then went to the register- The sleepy cashier put down her TV Guide, rung up my Triscuits, and I made my way out the automatic doors- The second I stepped into the parking lot, I heard a loud, “HEY YOU!”- I turned around, and saw the grungey kid standing in the open doors with his finger jabbing the air in my direction- “YOU TOOK THAT CHEESEBALL!” I patted my back pocket to confirm his accusation- Yes, it was there all right, weighing my pants down- He took a menacing step toward me, and I made a quick decision-

I ran- I heard a grunt of surprise behind me, then the slapping of his beat up sneakers on the pavement as he made his own quick decision to come after me- I was making good speed, however the cheeseball was bouncing around and I had no belt- I looked back to confirm he was still in pursuit, hitched up my pants, and continued down the sidewalk- After a block and a half, I saw a gathering of folks outside a townhouse, and recognized the drunk guitarist of my band- That was obviously the party I was supposed to be bringing my snack to- That would have to wait until this kid quit chasing me- I flew by, to the surprise of the folks on the sidewalk and front porch, followed swiftly by the unshakable kid from Safeway- I heard him starting to wheeze, then realized I was starting to wheeze as well- We were now around the corner of the next block- I made my 2nd quick decision, stopped, spun around, and pulled the cheeseball from my back pocket-

“JESUS CHRIST! Just take the damn thing!,” I gasped, holding out the cheeseball to the kid- He skidded to a halt and quickly backed away, with an inexplicable look of terror on his peach-fuzzed face- “BACK OFF MAN!” he wheezed, “COPS ARE ON THE WAY!” “Cops!?,” I managed, then suddenly was answered by a screech of tires as a cop car came around the corner, lights on- Two officers skidded to a halt next to us and jumped out of the car, weapons drawn if you can believe it- I couldn’t believe it! “THAT’S HIM,” the kid yelled, pointing at me, as I still held out the cheeseball- The cops pivoted in my direction and looked with confusion at the cheeseball in my hand- “What…?,” the nearest cop asked nobody, and I answered, still winded, “I took a damn CHEESEBALL!” The cop closer to the car choked back a laugh- The first cop looked toward the kid, who was now blushing and angrily gesturing toward me- “He RAN!!” This cop asked, “Um, and you ran AFTER this guy? For a..?” “Cheeseball,” cop number two finished for him, and they both started laughing- I was relieved, until the kid, now visibly angry, said “I WANT TO PRESS CHARGES!”- Cop number two shook his head in disbelief, and said, “That’s up to your manager, who called us- He thought you might be in DANGER…”- “In danger of WHAT?”, I asked- Their amusement was now replaced by irritation, as they put us both in the back seat of their cruiser to escort us back to the store- The kid tried to put as much space between us as he could- I looked over at him menacingly, “Do you even LISTEN to Cypress Hill?”- He didn’t answer, and scowled back at me- “You know what’s ‘insane in the membrane’?” I continued, “Chasing down a guy for a CHEESEBALL-” “Quiet back there!”, the driving cop said to the rear-view mirror-

As the car cruised by the party, I saw everyone had come outside to see what was going on- I was clearly visible in the backseat- After we passed by, out the back window, I noticed the singer and his girlfriend had started the walk in our direction- This was getting beyond ridiculous and I started to worry about what might transpire next- If the kid gave an unexpected chase, and the cops gave an unexpected response, complete with handcuffs, would I end up in jail? What would the bail be for theft of a cheeseball? Would my parents somehow be roped into this? The band had to be in Cleveland the next night! Would they have to leave me here? Would the keyboardist call that other bassist from music school? Was my life as I knew it, OVER?

The four of us hustled into the grocery store- The cashier looked wide awake now, and had put down the TV Guide- The manager, a middle-aged bald guy, was between her and us, arms crossed and serious- “You OK Carl?”, he asked the kid, while giving me a glare- “Um-“, Carl started to answer, then was interrupted by cop number two, “This guy, he stole a CHEESEBALL-” “He RAN!”, Carl interrupted back- At this moment, the automatic doors swooshed open and in walked the singer and his girlfriend- “Sorry, we’re temporarily closed,” the manager told them as they approached- “I’m his boss,” the singer said, gesturing toward me- The cops, the cashier, and the kid, all turned in interest toward my “boss”- “I’m SO sorry,” he said, “He had too many suds at Sudsys-” “No, I didn’t-“, I started, then seeing the look on his face, finished, “well… yeah maybe I did”- The cops had had enough of this by this time, and cop number one started undoing my cuffs, to the protesting guffaw of Carl- “You’re going to press charges…?”, the cop asked the manager, eyebrows raised, as he slipped the cuffs back into his pocket- The manager gave him a look , then turned his attention to the singer’s girlfriend, and gave her a small smile while shaking his head “no”- The cops left as quickly as they had shown up- I was rubbing my wrists, while still holding the plastic bag with my box of Triscuits- “Can I at least BUY the cheeseball?” I asked the manager, who had unceremoniously dumped the cheeseball down beside the TV Guide- It wasn’t round anymore from its abuse in my back pocket, and some of the orange port wine cheesefood was showing through the new gaps in the pecan bits- I knew that the second I was gone, that cheeseball would be tossed into the trashcan- Although, the cashier WAS gazing at it, so maybe it had a chance with her? But would she PAY for it? Carl interrupted my reverie with an angry “NO WAY MAN!”- He was crushed I wasn’t headed “downtown”, and did NOT want to see me walk out the door with that cheeseball he had risked his LIFE for- I countered Carl, while addressing the manager, “Triscuits are SO bland with NOTHING on them…” The slight smile reserved for the singer’s girlfriend went away as the manager turned his attention back to me. “NO! Now GET THE HELL OUTTA MY STORE! You’re BANNED!”