I've found what I've spent my whole life seeking.
It was in Norfolk, Virginia.

Our show was in a classy seeming Italian restaurant. Years ago, the Burdocks played in a record store. The owners closed it and opened this restaurant with a tiny stage. The other band was, uh, interesting. Nancy and I spent much of the night being annoyed by some jocks or surfers (same thing) that clearly never speak to women. One of them in particular was creeping me out so much I had to plan when I was going to smoke and when I was going in to drink my beer all based on where he was located.

After their set, I heard some guys in the other band talk about having a little "somethin-somethin" so I told KC and he got us invited over to the singer's place for an after show party. The guys smoking on the front step seemed alright. They were more mature and just spoke to us as if we were people. Things changed inside where the real party was.

After the introductions and some drinks were handed out, everyone dispersed to do what is done at parties. I ended up in the living room where KC was showing me the great paintings on the wall, all done by the singer's brother. Everyone paired off with conversation partners and I ended up talking to a short guy. We were just making pleasant small talk when I saw it on the floor to my right. A milk crate. But it was no ordinary milk crate. That is to say it wasn't one of the metric ones we have in Canada that are slightly too small to hold records. I got very excited and told my idea to my spouse, ignoring the little, friendly guy. KC agreed that it was a good idea, but that it was quite absurd to actually suggest it to the owner of the crate. I've never minded being absurd, so I inched my way into the circle that included the singer and patiently waited for a break in the conversation so I could communicate my plan.

"So, I have a pretty absurd request to ask of you..."
"Oh yeah? what's that?"
"Who owns that milk crate over there?"
"I do."
"What do you use it for?" It only had a few patch cords in it.
"Carrying stuff."
"Well, that milk crate looks like it would hold records and if you don't use it to hold records, well, we have a milk crate in the van and I thought we could trade."
"That is a pretty absurd request."
"Yeah, I've been looking for one for a long time, and I figured I might as well ask, just in case it works out."

The short guy was to my right again and trying to chat with me. The singer said he would trade with me so long as my crate wasn't inferior and that I should bring in a record to see if his crate is, in fact, the right size. I had gotten what I wanted and I was slowly cluing in to the motives of the short guy, so I went right over to KC to see if he would go out for a smoke with me so I could tell him the good news. The little guy got the hint and exclaimed "I'm outta this!" while turning away never to talk to me again.

I told my bandmates and the singer of the other band what I was about to do, and then I realized that his crate says "MARYLAND" on it and could hold sentimental value. When asked, he confirmed that that's where he went to school, but really, he doesn't mind giving it up. Then he will always remember that he has a Dog Day crate and I can always remember that I have a Dunes crate.

While this was occurring, Nancy was being bothered by the Marine guy I had been avoiding at the bar. Dude was scary. He had this crazed look in his eyes that combat veterans have and we were all on edge never knowing if he was going to blow his cool and kick the shit out of someone and/or rape Nancy or I. It was discovered that he had been in Iraq. KC asked if he'd been to Afghanistan and he said that he hadn't, but he wished he could go. It seems like a nice place.

I think we should go. There's nothing left to consume, I have what I've always wanted, these people are all crazy, and that girl over there, the only other vagina in the house, is clearly upset by our presence and getting in my face more as she drinks more.

I slept very well that night. My life is now complete.

(I wrote most of this a week ago, but ran out of time before finishing it).

Four years ago I got kicked out of a bar for the first time ever (and made an idle threat). I can't believe I used to show affection by spitting on people.