The television was too loud and the room was suffocating. I kept looking for a way to make my exit, but found none.
After our concert that night, we’d made our way back to the hotel and all gathered in the suite Taylor had somehow managed to end up with thanks to some clerical error. The guys from Everybody Else had made their way to Grant Park, wanting to witness what they saw as Obama’s inevitable win in a crowd of thousands of his other hometown supporters. My brothers, at least one being on the more conservative side, had decided that pizza, beer and election coverage on television was a better way to celebrate or commiserate, depending on what the outcome was.
Myself, I was torn. Not between the park and the hotel, though. I had absolutely no desire to be in a crowd full of people. Just surviving the concert was hard enough, and I felt like I was drowning when I looked at the audience packed into the floor and balconies of the Chicago House of Blues. I also had no desire to listen to my brothers’ political arguments, which only became louder and more offensive when alcohol was added to the equation. If I could have excused myself back to my hotel room and slept through the entire thing, I would have.
Unfortunately, it was made quite clear to me that that simply wasn’t an option. Instead, I was forced to stay, wishing I could sink down into the suite’s couch and disappear as more and more of our crew made their way in, each one bearing more food and alcohol.
I had to get away.
The best I could manage was stumbling to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. With that and Taylor’s empty bedroom between me and the crowd, the sound was muffled to an almost bearable level. I wanted more than anything to light up, but I had left my pipe in my own room and I was reasonably certain that smoking any substances was forbidden in this hotel. Instead, I settled for digging a few pills from my pocket. I brushed off the lint, filled a small plastic cup with water from the sink, and swallowed them down.
I nearly choked on my own tongue when a knock came at the door and one of our roadies started cursing about how much he needed to piss. The roadies were a charming bunch, really. But I knew I wasn’t very pleasant to be around these days, either, and so I did little more than shoot him a glare as I opened the door and pushed my way past him.
“If you think for a second that your party cares at all about any of the issues we’re working on, any of the stuff that you act like you care about, too—”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath at the sound of Taylor’s angry voice. He and Isaac were standing at the minibar, which was never a good place to find them when they were discussing politics. I grabbed a tiny bottle of vodka and chugged it down to help drown out Isaac’s reply to Taylor’s latest diatribe.
There was nowhere in the room to hide from the drunkenness and politics, though. Everywhere I looked, people were shouting slurred arguments and comments on the election results. I wasn’t aware everyone else on this tour was so political, but I supposed it was easy to get swept up in such an important election. I had other things threatening to pull me under, though.
The coffee table was covered in pizza boxes, bags of potato chips and even a box of cupcakes that had materialized from somewhere. My stomach turned, and I couldn’t decide if it was in hunger or disgust. I decided to go with disgust and turned away from the display.
My only possible escape now that the bathroom had proven impractical was the balcony. Everyone was too consumed with the party to bother going outside, it seemed, and I had the small balcony all to myself. The sounds of the street below, of cheers and jeers and car horns, didn’t make me feel any better, but it did drown out some of my thoughts. The worst ones, the ones telling me how easy it would be to fling myself off the flimsy railing, were too loud to ever be drowned out, and I had long since given up trying.
In my pocket, my phone began to buzz, and it drew me back to reality. A reality where I knew I couldn’t fling myself onto the street below, no matter how tempting it might seem.
The only person who ever called me who wasn’t already present was my wife, so I wasn’t surprised at all to see her name on the screen. Almost in spite of myself, I smiled as I swiped the screen and said,
“Hey, Katie.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” she replied. “What are you guys doing tonight?”
“Well, most of them seem to be getting shitfaced and arguing about how we’re all going to hell in a handbasket or something,” I said. “Me, I’m just trying to ignore all of that.”
“Taylor and Isaac again?” Kate asked knowingly. “That’s why I stayed home. No offense, but your family gets a little intense about politics. At least I had the baby as an excuse not to be out late.”
“I don’t blame you,” I mumbled, although I doubted anything she might witness at the Hanson household could rival what was happening just a few feet away from me.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked. “I know, you’re not going to tell me if you’re not. But you know I have to ask. And you just sound… I don’t know. Off.”
I sighed. “I’m just tired. That’s all. We’ve been going pretty hard this tour.”
“Is that all?” She asked. I hated how well she could read me, but even she didn’t see everything. There were still parts of me that I would always keep hidden, even from my wife. Maybe I should have felt guilty for that. Maybe I did. I wasn’t sure what I felt anymore.
“That’s all,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light. The pills were working their way through my system, though; I could feel it. I tapped my fingers anxiously against the railing. “I feel like I’ve been on tour my whole life.”
Kate left out a soft laugh. “I think you have, honey.”
“You may be right,” I replied, trying to sound amused. But she wasn’t wrong. If I wasn’t touring, I was recording, writing, interviewing. My entire life had been work, work, work and just because it wasn’t a traditional nine to five job didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.
Even as I thought it, I knew I sounded like a spoiled brat. But I didn’t care. Regardless of the perks, it was just fucking depressing to realize I had been at work since the ripe old age of nine when all of this suddenly stopped being a cute little hobby. Did I even have a childhood at all? At the time, it had just felt like playing all the time, occasionally interrupted by pointless classes I didn’t need for the future, but now I wasn’t so sure. I had chosen it, yes, but who knows at nine what they really want to do with the rest of their lives?
I had always been drifting, I realized. It didn’t matter that deep down I knew music really was what I wanted to do. It still hadn’t been my choice. I had let myself be swept up by my brothers’ enthusiasm, and now I was drowning in the reality of it.
“Zac? Sweetheart?” Kate’s soft voice drew me out of my thoughts, and I crashed back into the real world.
Which was fucking loud. Cheers, screams and even fireworks were erupting all around, and it was both deafening and blinding.
“What the fuck,” I mumbled.
“Didn’t you hear?” Kate said, her voice straining and just barely loud enough to be heard over the din. “They just called it. Obama won.”
I glanced back into the hotel room, and through the sliding glass door I could see a surprisingly somber scene. Most of the room’s occupants were shocked, drunk or both; only Taylor and a few others sat quietly, showing their happiness just through silent, satisfied smiles.
“Wow,” I breathed out.
“I know,” Kate replied. “But I’ll let you get back to the party, okay? I just wanted to check in. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I replied.
I hung up and took a deep breath, trying to breathe in all of the excitement around me, pulsing through the city itself. The truth was, I wasn’t a political person at all. I had my own beliefs, at least a few of them, but they rarely seemed to be in step with… well, anyone else in the world. Trying to follow all the talking heads and make sense of all their chatter was more than I could manage, and so I chose to go on my own way, ignoring all of that white noise.
But the sheer glee emanating from this city, even as viewed from twelve floors up, was impossible to miss. It was infectious. Maybe part of it was the amphetamine in my system, but it felt like my blood was actually bubbling. I let out a short laugh, then another, before dissolving into almost painful belly laughs that couldn’t be stopped. I couldn’t have even explained why I was so happy, if happy was really the right word at all.
I was too jaded to think that this election would change anything in my life. My world had nothing to do with congress or the changing economy or anything else old men in suits liked to talk about. Yet I still felt like I had turned some strange corner, and I refused to accept that it was only the fleeting, false happiness brought on by the pills I had swallowed.
The sliding glass door opened with a muffled whoosh, but I didn’t turn around. I was afraid if I did, I would lose what little grip I had on the railing and really fall. I didn’t want to fall. As high I was I flying at the moment, I knew that I couldn’t really fly.
“Did you hear the news?” Taylor asked, suddenly appearing by my side with a beer in each hand.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Kate called. And, well, I think I could have figured it out from context clues.”
Taylor glanced at the scene around us and nodded. Without another word, he handed me one of the beers, already open and sweating profusely. I accepted it anyway and took a big swig. His job done, I supposed, Taylor clapped me on the shoulder and turned back into the hotel room.
The euphoria that had come over me just a moment before seemed to abandon me along with my brother. When the door clicked shut, it was like a switch had been flicked and I felt the blackness creep back in again. Maybe I hadn’t taken enough, I decided. I fished around in my pocket until I found two more little pills, all that was left of the bottle I’d found a few days ago. It was larger than the little packets I’d first purchased, but still seemed to vanish so quickly.
I swallowed the last two pills with a mouthful of cheap beer, but I didn’t taste any of it.