Frank Zappa was a really hot ticket to come across. His shows would always sell out in Chicago, and this concert was no exception. Luckily, I had my friend John at Rose Records pull me two tickets in return for his usual ration of marijuana. John got me some great seats, too—Row D was actually the first row.

Demand was so high that Zappa had scheduled two shows that night, one at 7:00 p.m., and the other at 11:00 p.m. John pulled us the 11:00 show because there was such a rush on the Ticketmaster computer for the earlier show. I wasn't going to complain, though, since it actually sounded like a cool time to go to a concert. Hell, I was still going to "The Song Remains the Same" every time it came to the midnight show, why not a Frank Zappa concert? Unfortunately, Zappa booking two shows for the same night in the same auditorium led to some complications, as we shall shortly see.

Now I had to decide whom I should take. I was pretty popular then (selling drugs can do that to a teenager), so I had tons of choices. I wasn't going to take a girl because Frank Zappa really isn't a girl-type of concert. After all, you want your date taking her panties off for YOU, not for the band. So, I flipped a coin between Bob Thomsen and my good old friend Joe Mueller (or Joe Joe as I still call him to this very day), and Joe Joe won. The poor kid nearly pissed his pants he was so excited. This was going to be his first concert that he ever attended. The thing is, even though I took him to the show, I'm not sure we could describe him as having "attended" it. . . as we shall also shortly see.

Joe Joe lived about eight blocks down the same street from me. I walked over to his house about 7:00 PM for dinner with him, his mom, and his aunt. Mrs. Mueller and Mrs. Kral were and are still very nice to me. They always treated me as family, and as all family members do, they voice their opinions honestly. Dinner therefore consisted of Mrs. Mueller giving me the Gestapo interrogation--what were the concerts like, were there a lot of drugs there, etc. I calmed her fears by assuring her that since Frank Zappa wasn't into drugs, then certainly his fans weren't. That put a smile on her face. Mrs. Mueller had been overly protective of Joe Joe ever since he had survived a pipe bomb explosion five years earlier. He ended up becoming a huge pothead after that, and though his mom wasn't happy about it, she accepted it nevertheless.

After we were done eating, we went into Joe Joe's room for the bong session. Unknown to me he also got some cocaine earlier that day (not from me), and so we ended up doing a bunch of lines there too. We left Joe Joe's around 8:30 p.m. already pretty fucking high, and we yet had to stop at the liquor store for our usual large amount of Beck's before the show. A concert is NOTHING without Beck's.

When I came back to the car after getting the beer, it looked like Joe Joe was swigging whiskey but, as I got closer I saw it was a medicine bottle. The kid was downing a bottle of cough syrup with codeine. I asked him if h was sick, but he laughed and said that he just wanted to get a codeine buzz. That didn't make sense to me—we were pretty stoned already and here he was downing prescription drugs? All I could say was, "Let's get our asses to The Bismarck!"

As it turned out, drinking cough medicine to get high is a VERY BAD IDEA.

When we got into downtown Chicago we had to find a place to park, which was close to impossible. We settled for a parking garage, which wasn't bad because we paid to get in this garage and could sit in the car drinking and talking and drugging until a quarter to 11, when it was time to go to the show.

As we approached our seats, there were these two guys already sitting there. I told them that they were in our seats and they needed to find their own seats. As it turned out, they had those seats for the 7:00 p.m. show. Frank Zappa had evidently never stopped playing between shows. I explained to them, using small words, it was 11:00 p.m., and technically those were our seats now. One of the guys copped an attitude with me, saying that since Zappa had never taken a break that he was still watching the concert he paid for.

This guy was so obnoxious, I wanted to punch him out right then and there, but I didn't want to cause a ruckus and get thrown out. So, I told him that he could either move to another set of seats, or I would get security and not only get him moved, but probably thrown out as well. He just flipped me the bird, so I said, "Fuck you smartass, I'm getting security."

It was as I was turning my back to find a guard that the idiot attacked me. He actually got me in a headlock from behind, but I elbowed him in the ribs with my right arm to break free, spun to my right, and threw an open-handed strike with my left hand to the right side of his neck. Before I could hit him again, I was grabbed from behind by security and told to mellow out because they had everything under control. Evidently, they had seen what had happened—as had Frank Zappa, who actually stopped in mid song and told me something along the lines of that I was a "blonde-headed chop suey badass." Truly, the man had a way with words.

I shouted up to Frank that I was just trying to get into my seat, and I think he finally realized what the problem was. He decided to take a 15-minute break and requested that all the other 7:00 p.m. concertgoers please be courteous and move for the people that had paid for the 11:00 show.

So Joe Joe and I got our seats without further violence, and shortly thereafter, Zappa got back onstage and started to play "Truck Driver Divorce" off of Them or Us, the release he was touring for. Unfortunately, Steve Vai wasn't with him on the road, although he is featured prominently throughout that release. Meanwhile, Joe Joe was riding a really strong "rollercoaster" high: One minute he was wide awake, the next minute he was nodding off. Frank was about half an hour into the show when Joe Joe slurred to me that he had to go to the bathroom. I pointed him to the door. I wasn't going to babysit for him--I was too into the show. I think a lot of it had to do with being first row for a Frank Zappa show, which was quite a feast for the eyes. He had a clothesline stretched across the front of the stage, on which were pinned the panties and bras fervent female fans had thrown onstage. He also had stuffed animals and other gifts thrown at him hanging from it as well. On top of his Carvin amps, he had inflatable dollies. It was like watching one of his album covers come to life.

Letting Joe go to the bathroom by himself had been a big mistake. Zappa played another 90 minutes before I noticed that he was still gone. I remember thinking "Where the fugg is Joe Joe?" so I ran down to the bathroom, and there he was nodded out in the bathroom valet's chair in the corner. I apologized to the valet and he said it was all good. Evidently, Joe Joe had nodded off in the toilet for a while, and since people had to use it, the valet had awakened him, and since Joe Joe had started whining that he needed to relax awhile, the valet allowed Joe Joe to pass out in his chair.

I walked up to Joe Joe and slapped his face as hard as I could. He fell out of the chair, looked up at me, and asked, "When does the concert start?" I shrugged, just helped him up, and said I was sorry for slapping him, but it had to be done. He was sure as shit wide awake now, and, what's more, the dumb fuck wasn't ever going to mix codeine, cocaine, and beer ever again.

So, we got back to our seats and what do you know? There were two different assholes in our chairs. But, before I could say a word, Zappa addressed them on the house PA system:

"Guys, you'd better move, before grasshopper gives you a martial arts lesson the hard way."

I just turned to Zappa and saluted him. He saluted me right back. We watched the last 90 minutes of his set, and got out of there around 2:00a.m. Needless to say, I drove Joe's car. In fact, I decided to crash at Joe Joe's house since I didn't feel like walking home all wasted on a cold winter night at 3 in the morning. As we get to the front door, there was a note from Joe Joe's mom. It said that she had baked us a cake for us for a late night snack, and that she had put fresh water in his bong.

Now that's love.

Keep on Rockin' in teh Free World. Send us e-mail at editor@corporatemofo.com
(By the way, yes, we're spelling it "teh" intentionally)