Thursday, October 12, 2000 | Fiction
Rock Stars Enjoying Anonymity
| Officer John Lee: | You know why I pulled ya over, buddy? |
| Gavin Rossdale: | (Speaking loudly over music from his car stereo.) Uh, I was “speeding” I think it’s called. |
| Officer: | How ’bout I call it reckless drivin’ and take you in, hotshot. |
| Gavin: | (Shrugs.) |
| Officer: | Well yer lucky. I don’t feel like endin’ my day with a big hubbub so yer gettin’ off with a ticket. And a big fine that’ll make you think twice ’fore doin’ 95 again. |
| Gavin: | (Nods politely.) |
| Officer: | Nice car but I’m guessin’ a young guy like you’s got nothin’ else. |
| Gavin: | Uh, yes sir. |
| Officer: | Say, what’re you listenin’ to anyway? You oughta turn that down a hair, maybe that’s yer problem. |
| Gavin: | No Doubt. |
| Officer: | Yeah, no doubt it is yer problem, but I asked you what it’s called. |
| Gavin: | Oh … uh, it’s my wife’s band. |
| Officer: | Well it sounds like crap you ask me. Yer wife’s a wannabe too. (Shakes his head.) You folks is all racecars and rock bands. (Smirks and laughs while pulling his ticket book from his burgeoning-with-pens, plastic-reinforced, light-blue shirt pocket.) Maybe her band’ll make it outta yer garage some day … help you pay this fine. |
* * *
| Best Buy Salesperson Josh: | Can I help you, uh … sir? |
| (Stops bouncing and playing air guitar and looks at Josh.) Huh? | |
| Josh: | I do that too, man … the air guitar. |
| Dave: | (Nodding his head and staring at Josh.) Sure. |
| Josh: | I mean, you and me gotta dream, right, rockin’ hard, man, fans everwhere. (Grimaces, bobs his head a few times and makes hang-ten gestures with both hands.) |
| Dave: | (Smiles.) You bet. |
| Josh: | So, how can I help you. |
| Dave: | Oh, I’m fine… (Looks at Josh’s Best Buy nametag.) … Josh. I’m just lookin’ at some of my stuff here, the Peppers, Jane. |
| Josh: | Yeah, I come by and count the discs I own too. |
| Josh: | Anyway, keep practicin’ that guitar, uh, sir! You got the tats and the beard thingy for it! |
| Dave: | I will, Josh. |
| Josh: | Yeah, get in a band and score yourself a hot wife, man! |
Daniel Byard Cox is an electrical engineer in Chicago where he spends his days squinting at tiny circuit boards with solder irons in both hands, inhaling poisonous lead-laced fumes and trying not to burn himself. Dan says the burns hurt but his wounds are instantly cauterized. So—not to be outdone by Carl—he has that going for him. Plus, he gets a meager salary and a fulfillment enjoyed only by those in the legions of anonymous servants of "The Man." Yes, Danny Boy is a happy fellow whose work can be found at McSweeney’s and in unopened emails in the inboxes of his friends.