Pete and Repeat

I am at a loss as to where to begin.

I can almost hear you, "Well, start at the beginning."

As much as I'd like to sweep the whole weekend under the rug, I suppose I should vent and get it out in the open. (queue the "whooba whooba" swirly flashback music).

Probably the only thing to go as planned was Norton’s arrival. At 5:30am he showed up. I waved at Norton’s mom, and she tooted the horn and drove off. I was finishing up my breakfast and was setting out the cat’s breakfast. I checked my instructions for Margaret regarding Clarence.

After locking up and leaving my key with Mrs. McCleary I got in the Fargo. Norton was already riding shotgun. He had the clipboard on his lap. After a last minute run through I buckled up we were off. 6 o'clock on the nose - right on time.

It was a six hour drive. And I spent most of it trying to explain why the Fargo didn’t have a CD player, or an FM radio. But it did have an underdash 8 track player. A few months ago I’d stumbled upon a box of old tapes and although they weren’t exactly current they were nostalgic for me. Bob Welch’s French Kiss, Foreigner’s Double Vision, stuff by Kiss, The Beatles, Cheap Trick, and an oddly warped copy of Yes’ Fragile. The one I played the most, because it seemed to drive Norton nuts was Nana Mouskouri’s Songs Of The British Isles.

Had I known then what I know now, I’d have probably shoved him out a window driving through the pass. But I didn’t - because I'm an idiot, and I would probably get caught.

We arrived just after lunch, and there were a bunch of other guys milling around, shooting the shit, and checking out the competition. I honked and waved, and got a couple of waves and the finger from some kid. Norton fingered him back.

I left Norton in the van, and went in to register. When I came back I tapped on Norton’s window. “Okay Norton, time to unload at set up.” I went to the back of the van, and opened up the doors.

“NORTON!” Norton scampered over, and saw me looking in the back and he turned white.

“Norton, where are the boxes?” I felt like smacking him upside the head, but people were looking over. “Nor – ton!”

He was stammering now, and it took me a few rounds through to finally work out what he was trying to say. He had wanted to be sure we had everything, so while he waited for me he unloaded the boxes to count them to make sure he’d not forgotten to load anything. He placed them in order along side the garage. When he heard me coming he was so excited to get going he neglected to put them back in.

All he could remember was that he had checked the list, and he had the clipboard and it confirmed that everything had been packed …

4 hours to kick off, and I had nothing …

I’ll tell you more tomorrow, this is making me sick just thinking about it. Besides, my hope is that the longer I wait, the less I’ll remember.