"I've got a test," he says. "So, I'm getting out of here."
I smile and shake my head. "I would hate to have to take a test after a day like today."
We've been busy.
"Yeah," Ariel says. "And it's Psychology."
I give him a look.
"I didn't know what kind of summer job I'd have when I was applying for classes. I thought, 'Whatever, I might be working at a restaurant.' I didn't know I'd have a cool job."
I smile. "Well, I'm glad you think it's a cool job."
"I do. I feel…
There's video.
Once, jammin' wasn’t all a horror. Like in the simple, non-indulgent reality of, "Duane Allman jammed." But then the evil spawn of the Grateful Dead took over and now it's oozed like so much poisonous Chinese toothpaste into every kind of music imaginable. And sorry Phish fans but the jam outbreak was still relatively localized until the Good Ship Trey made it okay for everyone to stop practicing their instruments, forget about songwriting and arranging and just, you know dude, jam…
Our mission could not have gotten any worse. Yet, we arrive in Boston at 4:00 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time. Finally.
Madonna wakes me up at 9:30 A.M. Her little paws tap my cheeks. My eyes slowly open. The queen of pop's little furry face smiles down at me, whiskers tickling my cheek.
"Raweawr!" She gives me the claw right on the lip. She's not as sweet as she looks.
The commuter rail to Mansfield is 20 minutes late. My palms broke into a cold sweat, my head about to explode.
I've been a Rush fan ever since my brother gave me "Exit... Stage Left" when I was…