Many a morning have I sat out in my pile of leaves with Lu, a tiny grin playing it's way across my face as I think back upon two of my favorite moments on the tour with Eclectic Collective (both involving nudity):
1) After our show in ME, we made our way to a party house somewhere on campus. It was quite late, but there were copious amounts of alcohol and breakfast cereal so the makings of a serious party were already underway. Lumas was there (I'd brought him along for the last 3 shows) so most of the women were at his beck and call... but those with penises opted to argue about music or threaten each other with sports stats or something. Anyways, at some point the band decided to drive back to Boston - maybe it was 3am at this point. We filed out to the RV (Lumas trailed a bit, tucking a few phone numbers under his collar) and began trying to determine who was conscious enough to drive. As was always the case, Dua was nowhere to be found. The band grumbled. Every time we found ourselves amongst the youth of America, you could always rely on Dua to get out his Magic the Gathering deck and try to "connect" with them (he seemed fully unaware that this is the era of Yugioh).
Now, it should be said that normal humans, when confronted with this kind of dilemma, would simply send someone in to get him (probably the road manager) and that would be that. But when you play music for a living, every decision-making process gets perverted and distorted. Within seconds a pool of $20 was amassed to compensate Graham for a flashier type of extraction.
Let me make something else clear: Graham was not inebriated enough to be unaware of what he was about to do... Graham just really wanted $20. Not only would it reinforce the frugal Jewish stereotype he'd been aggressively promoting, but it would also buy him like 4 Burger King meals, and you could see the desire of those meals played across his eager face. With a trail of boisterous instigators, he marched gallantly toward the house, removing all but his boxer briefs in step to some internal tune (probably a Matisyahoo track).
AND THEN, IN ONE FLESHY FLASH, THE BOXERBRIEFS WERE OFF, AND HE WAS CHARGING UP THE DOOR STEPS INTO THE PARTY HOUSE!
We heard screams first - high pitched wailing, as if one of those poor college girls was getting knifed (or had just caught site of Lumas for the first time)! By the time we entered the front door with the cameras and camera phones craning every which way to try and get genitals in the shot (these photos can be used later to get your money back), the whole living room and vestibule looked like it'd been poltergeisted! There was a girl sitting on the stairway with a friend, white as a Clansman (we later found out she'd been having a very emotional moment conveying some heartbreak to this friend when overly-circumcised Graham came lunging toward them). There were people fighting their way towards the exits as if trying to dismount a burning plane. Our little paparazzi soon discovered that the soprano screaming we'd been hearing (from the street) was coming from none other than Dua! After what must've been the most terrifying moment of his young adult life, Dua hurled himself into the street and sprinted to the RV, desperate to avoid any protruding part of Graham, who emerged moments later, clutching his easily hidden genitals. He asked for his $20 before he even began to redress.
Our mob consummately kicked ourselves: in our frantic maneuvering to get good photos, no one had taken the time to properly hide Graham's clothes, or even lock the RV so he'd have to wander the streets for a while. We all dropped the ball on this one, and for that, the world suffered.
2) On the last day of tour we found ourselves in the outskirts of NY (at Boudoir College). It was time for EC and their beloved Tour Manager to part ways. It was also time for Dua to pay me the effin $20 he'd owed me for two weeks. When it was clear that he neither had the $20 nor anything worth confiscating (I suggested his underwear but they had holes in them, and the stink of ten thousands soldiers), somebody in the RV suggested the obvious alternative.
"I'll give you $5 to jog around the campus butt naked, ya dancin' monkey," Salim offered [it should be noted that the term of endearment "ya dancin' monkey" was one that none but Salim --- who claims to be black --- was allowed to employ, due to it's inherent racism [Strangely enough, if spoken from the lips of a fellow Black man, it was a welcome moniker. If spoken from the lips of GavCaz: crickets]. Rob offered $6. I offered to wipe $4 off the tab, but only if he made sure to encounter students. After careful consideration, I offered a four dollar bonus if faculty became involved. Disappointed at the lack of investment (and overall disinterest in seeing his unsheathed physique), Dua seemed to abandon the idea. But maybe 8 minutes later, while hoisting some equipment into the RV, I was blindsided by a lightening bolt of black buns! Without warning there was Dua, high stepping it across the commons, and not a care (or a loincloth) in the world! He made his way around all the major areas, at one point running directly at a pair of girls (and earning himself my $4!) while we whooped and gathered our cameras.
The climax of the marathon was 5 minutes later, when he was pressing himself against the brick wall*, completely surrounded by gawking students and hysterical band members, begging us to either give him his clothes, or unlock the RV. I remember marveling at the girth of his thighs and thinking, "those are child bearing hips, right there."
*I've noticed this strange phenomenon: when faced with sudden nakedness, a man will at first try to cover both his groin and buttocks. But after the 4 minute mark, he will simply abandon the buttock region, as if the damage is impossible to avoid. In the brisk weather of upstate NY, he will shield his privates for eternity, if necessary.
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