Big thanks to all our pals that made it out to the Wellfleet Beachcomber on Friday night. It was, by all accounts, the oddest day in Scamper history.
Usually, these road trip gigs are opportunities for the four of us to hang out all day, have some laughs, play a little grab-ass and generally engage in some not-quite-all-the-way-hetero male bonding. But lack of communication and planning caused us to break up into to two separate but equal teams, spending the day in warring Scampfactions.
Mike and Nate (Team name: "The Douchebag Express") went down early to comb the beach at the (aptly named) Beachcomber. Apparently, Nate got all "diggity" on your asses and dug a big hole in the sand, while Mike was busy lodging sand into his unspeakable places while drooling over Rocketscience, who were running out of the water in slow motion, the salty ocean water dripping off their toned, glistening bodies.
On the other side of the Cape, Keith and I ("Team Passive-Aggressive") resentfully had our own little mini-Day of Fun which included but was not limited to ice cream, batting cages and walking around Provincetown playing the always-fun "I think those two guys might be gay" game. On the upside, I beat Mr. I-Win-at-Everything in a game of bocce ball. My victory was shallow, as it was overshadowed by the glaring absence of our fellow Scampatriots.
Like the little girls that we are, each side of the Scamper schism wondered why the other half hated us so much that they didn't want to hang out. For those of you with dreams of the rock and roll lifestyle, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: being in a band is the just about the gayest thing you can do with your day. It's literally like dating three guys. It blows my mind sometimes.
But when we finally converged, we had a little group pow-wow, got on the same page and did our best to rock the swimtrunks off the joint. By all accounts it was a good show, although I did get confused and play the verses "Bruised By You" in the wrong key. Because I'm a professional.
After the show, a drunken/crazy beach lady said she'd only sign the Scamper mailing list if I agreed to move in with her. Sorry, honey - I'm already spoken for. I'm in a band.
Usually, these road trip gigs are opportunities for the four of us to hang out all day, have some laughs, play a little grab-ass and generally engage in some not-quite-all-the-way-hetero male bonding. But lack of communication and planning caused us to break up into to two separate but equal teams, spending the day in warring Scampfactions.
Mike and Nate (Team name: "The Douchebag Express") went down early to comb the beach at the (aptly named) Beachcomber. Apparently, Nate got all "diggity" on your asses and dug a big hole in the sand, while Mike was busy lodging sand into his unspeakable places while drooling over Rocketscience, who were running out of the water in slow motion, the salty ocean water dripping off their toned, glistening bodies.
On the other side of the Cape, Keith and I ("Team Passive-Aggressive") resentfully had our own little mini-Day of Fun which included but was not limited to ice cream, batting cages and walking around Provincetown playing the always-fun "I think those two guys might be gay" game. On the upside, I beat Mr. I-Win-at-Everything in a game of bocce ball. My victory was shallow, as it was overshadowed by the glaring absence of our fellow Scampatriots.
Like the little girls that we are, each side of the Scamper schism wondered why the other half hated us so much that they didn't want to hang out. For those of you with dreams of the rock and roll lifestyle, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: being in a band is the just about the gayest thing you can do with your day. It's literally like dating three guys. It blows my mind sometimes.
But when we finally converged, we had a little group pow-wow, got on the same page and did our best to rock the swimtrunks off the joint. By all accounts it was a good show, although I did get confused and play the verses "Bruised By You" in the wrong key. Because I'm a professional.
After the show, a drunken/crazy beach lady said she'd only sign the Scamper mailing list if I agreed to move in with her. Sorry, honey - I'm already spoken for. I'm in a band.
5 Comments:
Yay - comments are working again!
A Scamper divided cannot stand....
I heard that, ironically, the short-lived Scamper Civil War had much of the same dialogue as the 1985 mini-series "North and South".
I started playing the "Are They Gay?" game with my mother a few summers ago in Ogunquit (Northern New England's Gay captial. There is even a website: www.gayogunquit.com )
It's now a summer staple. Sometimes I'll take the long way home just to play it.
I also now want to go hit some balls in the batting cages and play bocce. Two other things I used to do every summer. :(
We started looking out the lab window and playing "pregnant or fat?"
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