About fifteen years ago I found myself sitting in my parent’s backyard having beers with a guy I knew from grade school.
I had been traveling around the country working for a beer company doing marketing but my contract was now up. The only job prospect I had was from Pfizer who had called and asked if I wanted to tour with Earth, Wind, and Fire. Now, even though I’m a competent guitar player, the band wasn’t looking to feature my solo acoustic songs as their opening act. Which makes sense because my original music sucks. Well, I mean, it’s great as long as you love aggressive riffs played sloppily without any recognizable structure. Oh, and I don’t write lyrics. Also, choruses are really hard.
No, the gig was for Viagra. Apparently Pfizer was sponsoring Earth, Wind, and Fire’s tour and they needed someone to run the ED booth during the concert. I’d get to go up on stage and introduce the band at certain shows I was told. During the concert I’d be set up next to the t-shirt stand educating fans on why the Viagra boner is the best boner on the market. Screw those Cialis guys who think they’re such hot stuff just because they last 54 hours. I was 24 years old and not interested in being associated with erectile dysfunction. It’s difficult enough getting chicks. I turned it down.
In my parent’s backyard the guy from grade school whispered to me that he had dropped acid before coming over. I wasn’t a drug person but I felt a bit slighted he didn’t think enough of me to offer a companion dose. I could see that the acid was starting to take hold as his eyes locked onto some nearby tree branches swaying. Before he could tell me that, “The forest is breathing, man!” I started doing monologues about funny stories that happened to me on the road.
After about thirty minutes he jumped up violently and demanded I get a tape recorder. He wanted to record everything I said because he was convinced I would be the next big talk radio star of Peoria, IL. He became angry when I told him I didn’t have a recorder. He suggested we take the tapes to every radio station in town and demand an on-air slot. He would be my manager and would make sure I was getting mine. Neither of us had any radio experience. I couldn’t talk him out of it, though. Thankfully I wasn’t in the throws of psychedelic delusion and laughed off terrible idea. A month later I landed a real job and moved to Chicago.
I did, in a ironic twist, start a podcast a few years back. So, in a weird way, I’m sort of doing radio. Ooh, I should reach out to Pfizer to see if they want to sponsor the podcast. And if they won’t bite, I’m not afraid to announce that I’ll take a meeting with the Levitra people. I hear they have deep pockets.