Time to swim

The old way isn’t working anymore. The old ship is going under fast and we are all left finding new ways to stay afloat. Some of us are holding onto the old ship as it sinks, letting it drag them to the bottom of the sea.

Others swim for the nearest life raft to cling to, while a few others take their chances and swim toward an unseen island of hope.

Weird times.

Gone are the days when we didn’t have a care. Like that time I waltzed straight from a party and into the Royal Albert Hall, bottle of Jack Daniels in hand.

Nobody stopped me as I walked into the backstage area. Not only was I not thrown out, I was actually welcomed.

Security whisked me to a dressing room that read ‘Jose Gonzales’, and provided me with snacks and more booze.

I didn’t open my mouth once; let them do the little talking that was involved.

They musta been expecting a language barrier. I was left to my own devices in the dressing room and drank my fill until I got bored.

Where was the real Gonzales? I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

A similar thing happened in Newcastle after a similar drinking spree.

We got caught up in a crowd who were walking towards a football game, some big league deal.

We walked with the crowd til we reached the stadium, then left the queue and went for the back door. Security waved us in and rushed us into the VIP lounge where we were plied with more free snacks and booze.

The other people around us were footballers, TV personalities, politicians, big shots.

We were alerted that the game was about to begin and brought to ‘our seats’, front row and centre. Still to this day, I have no idea who they thought we were – or why we were given royalty treatment.

I don’t even like football. Or sports for that matter.

We left after ten minutes.

Things like this used to happen a lot. Without even trying.

Maybe it had something to do with not giving a damn. Walking around like we owned the building.

Making people feel like idiots for even questioning why we are there.

Wearing sunglasses indoors mighta had something to do with it.

One of my friends carried a clipboard with him wherever he went, and found that the clipboard was like an access all areas pass for wherever he wanted to go.

Doors opened. People respect the clipboard.

But now those days are gone. I’m not so self assured. If I tried pulling that crap now I’d get my ass kicked.

I’m halfway to 84.

No spring chicken. Maybe it’s time… Time to swim.