The Battle Of The Bands

As the final song for the show kicked off, it was obvious that these guys were going to win. Sure it was just a "Battle of the Bands" in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, but to at least one these six musicians it meant everything.

Playing "Love The One You're With" with  fury only the young can know, the band pushed the crowd and themselves  into a  lather. Loud and pounding, the beat drew the crowd closer and closer to the stage until they were like one big living thing. Ahh... the power and beauty of

 live rock and roll.

With the bright lights blinding his eyes, the band leader (on piano of course) could not make out individual faces in the crowd, just the bobbing heads and upraised arms. But he didn't care. Winning this contest mattered a lot to him. Not because of the cheesy prizes, some gift certificates for the local music store, not even enough money to buy anything good. This would be a victory of right decision, a victory of spirit. A small proof that music was the right choice for his life. He was young and free and ready to live life on his own terms by his own rules. Then he saw her.

She was standing right in front, so close he could almost reach out and touch her. But he didn't. There was something about her, a quiet peacefulness that  almost seemed out of place,  and yet comforting. Making a mental note to find her and introduce himself after the show, he returned to the task at hand: kicking *ss and being a rock star, at least for a few more minutes.

The song ended, the crowd screamed and the band took their bows. After about 15 minutes the winner was announced. They had won! As he scoured the rapidly dwindling crowd he realized she was nowhere to be seen. He had lost her. He returned to the celebration and and put her face out of his mind. 

Weeks passed and life went back to normal. The high of the victory was replaced by the low of knowing it really didn't change much. The band rehearsed and looked for more gigs. He went to work every day and wrote  songs on his lunch hour and on and on.

One day he thought he saw her again! It was during his lunch hour. She was sitting in Toyota out in front of Safeway, but he was shy and not totally sure if it was her. So he let the opportunity pass.

Several weeks later, on Friday night the bass player called. "Hey we're havin' a party at my brothers house to celebrate our victory at the battle. I know it it's been  a while, but this is a good excuse to party!"

"I'm not into it. At least not tonight. I'm writing and don't wanna stop" replied the preoccupied musician.

"Bullsh*t!" replied the agitated bassist. "It's your band, everybody else is coming. You have to be there... It's for the band"

Those four words, it's for the band always worked and always would  for many years to come. So he went.

The party was like all of the other parties in the seventies. Some beer, lots of pot and music on the stereo. Mind you this was before IPODs, Videos, CD's or DVD's but they still knew how to party. So he planted himself on the couch, beer in one hand  and with the Allman Brothers band blasting in the background  proceeded to calculate how long he needed to stay so as not to be rude when he split.

He looked around the small living room decorated with a lava lamp, colorful sarongs on the wall, a black and white TV and an old upright piano. A frayed Persian rug , a couch and and a chair filled out the rest. There were about ten people in the living room with four or five more in the kitchen at the keg.

"Hey man, play the piano" someone shouted over  the music.

With that, he got up off of the couch, beer still in hand and walked to the piano. He sat and began to play a new song he was working on, eyed closed, lost in the music. Almost immediately he noticed the tinkling of bells mingling with the notes he was coaxing from the out of tune piano. For a moment he thought he was imagining it and opened his eyes.

There on his right, so close that he could almost reach out and touch her stood the girl from the show (and the store) . He recognized her immediately and and drew in a sharp breath. She smiled. He smiled. Everything else faded away. All that remained was the girl, the guy and the piano... and the tinkling of the bells.

Then suddenly she headed off towards the front door! He quickly jumped up to follow not wanting  to lose her twice. They both stepped outside. The night was still. It was a chilly autumn night and the smell of wood smoke hung in the air. Time stood still on that wooden porch as they  stared into  each other's eyes. He spoke first

" Where are you going?" he asked breathlessly (His first words to her)

" Crazy. Wanna come?" she replied with a smile ( Her first word to him)

And so, on the eve of our  thirty third wedding anniversary, I write this to  to tell you, son, the story of  how I met your mother.