Laconia

I saw a guy get killed last Friday on a motorcycle.  He was on his way to Laconia like the rest of us when an suv swerved into the wrong lane and hit him head-on.  Dave and our gang were the first people to arrive on the scene.

In the movies you often see one guy barking out orders and sh]]><![CDATA[ooing people away, "give him room people, get back and give him room.  Move away, there's nothing to see here." 

Well, there aren't people like that in real life.  In real life, a swarm of oglers closed in tightly encircling the downed biker.  A man in the center was hunched over administering CPR.  The parametics have not yet arrived.  The onlookers had their arms crossed, looking down at the man than looking up towards the sky – careening their necks for any sound of sirens, shifting their eyes away from the blood and then back again.

Dave – "I don't want to see this."

Me – "I don't want to see it either."

Dave – "Lets try to go around."

The man administering CPR gave up, stood up and walked away.  The crowd surrounding the biker started to disperse – nothing more to see.  Dave and I inched passed them on our bike.  We passed the parked cars and a crying woman in hysterics clutching her phone and telling us, or anyone that will listen, "an ambulance is on the way.  They said they're on their way."  We inched passed a bruised motorcycle laying flat on its side, we skirted around a black dented suv with its driver sitting inside crying into his cell phone saying he didn't know what happened and his diabetes made him pass out.  His cell phone drenched with tears.

I was there with Dave, Dave's dad and his Dads friends.  I felt safe traveling with them, relaxing and enjoying the scenery.  Before I seen any accidents, I passed a car that had "WOOSH" on its license plate and another that said "UH OH."  I'm a bit superstitious and prayed to God those plates weren't directed at me.  And they weren't.  I'm glad it wasn't me is all I can say.

The only free thing in life is God's grace and there's no grace in getting hit by a car at 70 MPH.  Four people died that day on bikes.  They all got hit by careless drivers.

That was the start of my trip.  My very first experience in Laconia bike week.

It's now Thursday.  I got home on Monday and I'm still shaken up from everything.

I actually don't feel like writing.  I have so much shit to do that I'm not doing anything at all.  I'm laying here in my shorts and T-shirt during the first summer heat wave with my laptop scorching the tops of my thighs.  I'm sweating and want a beer.  I want a beer but I don't feel like leaving the house.

Kristie is pissed at me, a really good friend of mine gave birth yesterday, I need to decorate my new office with spa crap and build a website, but I can't do anything.  I'm incapacitated.  Matt is also upset with me.  I don't even care.  I just want to crawl into a hole and stay there in a dark hazy place.

Kristie is mad that I'm spending a lot of time with Dave.  She stopped calling me.  I went over her house yesterday to pick up some stuff and Matt and Bosco were over there.  I stayed for a few drinks, listened to Kristie and Bosco tell me how bad Dave is for me and I need to drop him.  Everyone hates Dave, everyone hates me – we go together in that way.  We are both rejects.  Rejection from society created the X-Men so look out world!

Seriously though, why do people have to hate and reject others?  It keeps happening to me over and over.  Matt is mad at me for not hanging out with him all the time.  People keep taking and taking.  I feel so drained.

It's already June 21.  This month is going by so fast that I can't keep up.  I don't even know what I did with my time seeing that I haven't blogged in a while.  Blogging keeps me linear and in-check so no time slips by unnoticed, but this month its gone mostly unnoticed.  I need to regroup.  Clear my head.  I'm hoping a trip to Rhode Island will help.  Another drunk on the beach at midnight mini-vacation.

Anyway, Laconia was crazy.  Everyone had a bike, everyone sporting leather and a tough-guy (or girl) weathered look.  Even the girls looked bad ass.  I would say that women made up 25% of the bikers – not including the ones riding bitch.  I was surprised to see so many handling big Harley hogs.

The atmosphere and the people got to me, so next thing I know I'm wearing leather and donning a bandana.

I’m vulnerable to suggestion.  Highly influenced.  When in Rome do as the Romanians do is what I always say.

They had an electric chair in Laconia, so I strapped Dave up and electrocuted him.

When in Rome, get electrocuted.

Oh yeah I’m super cool.

Dave found his very own port-o-potty.

A random woman came up to us and told us that Dave looks like he can be an Abercrombie and Fitch model.  Then she was shocked to hear we’re just friends. 

Lady – “But he’s so cute!  And he obviously likes you.”

Me – “Yeah….”

Lady – “You know the best relationships start out with being good friends.”

This made Daves ears perk up.  He loves hearing stuff like this.

Dave – “I know, I tried telling her that.”

I cringed.  I’m a jerk.

Just because he’s good looking doesn’t mean I should date him – looks are NEVER a factor in any relationship I have.

Dave loves when people mistake us for a couple.  We strolled into a bar, sat down and the bartender rang us up as “bar couple” on the slip.  This made Dave so happy that he took a picture of it and sent it to me so I have it too.

And this is what I do with it:

I put it on my damn blog is what I do with it. 

I had the meatloaf dinner in case you’re wondering.  I ate every last bite.

We drove up Mt Washington on his bike. 

After seeing Mt Washington, we drove down the mountain and grabbed lunch at a pizza place.  That’s when Dave confessed that he wanted to propose to me at the summit but chickened out.

Me – “Oh shit.  I don’t really want to get married anyway.”

I felt like a shit for most of the weekend. 

I like Dave, but I don’t want to get married.  I have too much stuff to do.  I have too many places to go, goals to accomplish.  It takes very little to get me sidetracked – and I mean very little.  I can only imagine what marriage would do to me.  I make a horrible girlfriend, I can’t date properly – I can’t even hold down friends let alone boyfriends.

I like my quiet space.  My reticent private time where there are no takers or talkers.  Just me and my moment.  Peace and rest without someone pawing all over me.  Sometimes I don’t mind the pawing – I like it, but then there are days like this where I feel so far behind.  Being pawed at will only push me away further.  Falling off the bar stool, that feeling of unbalance.  Should I steady myself or save the beer in my hand?  I’ll always save the beer.  Beer first, then me.  This is my me time.

  If you look closely it looks like I’m holding my nose and picking it.

We had an awesome time together.  Dave’s easy and fun to be with.  I like to think I am too.

I had a hard time on the bike ride home.  I had a client scheduled for 4pm, so we had to rush.  Dave kept a steady 90 mph down the highway while I held on with white-knuckled fear and contemplated death.

I almost died once a few years ago.  I ate an entire loaf of Tastefully Simple’s beer battered bread with a ton of sour cream with the Tastefully Simple dill dip packet mixed in.  I ate the entire packet of dill and the whole loaf of bread and felt sick for five days straight.  I ended up in the E.R going in and out of consciousness.  I thought I was going to die and wasn’t afraid.  I accepted it.  I put my head down and let myself drift off only to wake up again looking at a perplexed, befuddled doctor hooking an IV into my arm.

I thought about that time at the hospital when I accepted death, and compared it to speeding down the highway on a motorcycle.  Why be terrified on the motorcycle when at the hospital I was so accepting?  I pondered this for about 3 hours and couldn’t figure it out.  Maybe I was so tired and in pain at the hospital, that I wanted to give up.  There’s peace when you give up.  Let go and let God.  However, letting go has never been easy for me.  I still own and wear a sweatshirt from when I was 12 years old.

For four hours straight I held on to the back of Dave’s motorcycle for dear life.  I clenched my eyes shut as we slid in and out of traffic, I peed myself a little. 

My favorite uncle died on a motorcycle, I witnessed a guy get smashed to pieces, WHOOSH and UH OH – WHOOSH and UH OH!

Eventually my mind became separate and floated above me.  It watched me from a distance.  It watched Dave and I moving in synchronized rhythm to the sway of the tree’s and cluster of cars.  Breathe in then out, breathe in then out.  Water drips off an oar in the moonlight.

A honey bee finds his flower – silence. 

Then I’m taken back in to the humming and the whirring, the buzzing between my legs.  Daves long blonde hair sneaking out beneath his helmet.  A woman next to us singing along to the radio.  I’m back and the terror didn’t follow completely.  I let it go.

My client cancelled.  I would’ve made it in time but she cancelled anyway.

Today I went to see my friend in the hospital with her new baby girl, then went to my new office to survey what it still needs and what more I can set up. 

I unpacked new sheets, set up a alarm clock, two ambient lamps, my stereo, my “desk” which is nothing more than a tv tray.  When I was done with that, I crawled on top of my massage table and laid there staring up at the ceiling – so cliché, I know, but I’m a master at staring up at ceilings or windows, or anything for that matter.  I sometimes stare at floor tiles trying to make out shapes.  I stare at wood grain on doors, scanning them for faces.  Anything with an incoherent mosaic of lines, splotches, or dots, I can almost always make out a face.

Today I made out four faces.

The outlets looked as though they seen a ghost.  All scared looking with their eyes big and mouths in a circle.  I stared at them wondering if they were trying to tell me something.

Outlet number 1 – “I don’t know about this business venture.  It’s a little crazy.”

Outlet number 2 – “Don’t worry she know’s what she’s doing.  Have faith in her, she’s smart.”

I was zoning out and talking to outlets telling me that I’m smart.

Outlet number 3 – “She just needs a little encouragement that’s all.”

Outlet number 4 – “She doesn’t have anyone to tell her what to do.  That may not be a good thing.”

Me – “I can do it.  I can totally do it.”

I rolled off the table and drove home.  I turned on Netflix and started watching Merlin.  And here I am still laying here. 

Shit….

 And now your moment of Zen:

I made this video in 10 minutes while Dave was in the bathroom showering.

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2 Comments

Filed under journal, Massage therapy, Travel, video's

2 responses to “Laconia

  1. Rick

    Sounds like an interesting week. You wrote about the 4 fatalities: “Four people died that day on bikes. They all got hit by careless drivers.”
    But the link you put in from boston.cbslocal.com tells a different story, sounds like at least 2 of the crashes were reckless driving by the biker. I’m not a biker but I have a lot of respect for those who ride and always take extra caution and leave more space between myself and a motorcycle on the road. I think bikers do get a bad name from the “crotch-rockets” that speed down the highway chasing each other in and out of traffic. And it sounds like your harrowing 4 hour ride home at 90 miles an hour in and out of traffic was really reckless too. So to your comment about careless drivers, let’s not go blaming careless car drivers for all motorcycle crashes.

    • You’re right I just read that article you’re talking about.
      When I got home from Laconia I read a different article that made it sound like it was from careless drivers of cars.
      I’m not generalizing that all motorcycle accidents happen from other cars, thats crazy talk. I knew I would get heat from that comment. I thought about deleting it but didn’t.
      I was being completely reckless on the way home. There really wasn’t any need for that.

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