Teenage Departure

A band is at its wit's end, but can they get along enough to make it to their next gig?

A rusted old van zooms down the Chicago highway, leaving other drivers to ask if the brown blur they just saw was a UFO.

It's a chilly September morning, with commuters honking their way past others on a surprisingly empty Chicago highway. It's a foreign site to behold, but that's good news for the band Teenage Departure, who are racing home after a grueling nine-hour drive from a gig in Minnesota. The van, which had seen better days, was an old clunker band member Tim had found through a Craigslist ad. A bumper about to fall off, two missing hubcaps and a trailer that felt like it was routinely in danger of becoming detached were on the back; your stereotypical tour van.

The inside didn't fare much better, with clothes and empty Cheeto bags strewn across the cabin. And the odor of sweat and last night's beer supply permeated the space. Dana, the runt of the group, was passed out in the back, having been the brave souls who drove the first round of the trip through the darkness of the night. Zack, Teenage Departure's drummer, was passing the time trying to punk out a would-be adversary on Words with Friends, while driving the group home.

"You telling me underdoged isn't a playable word?" Zack said miffed, waiting for someone to agree with his declaration.

"I dunno, made up words don't seem to be, how do I put this... real?" Tim shot back.

“Of course it is, it’s an adjective right?” Zack replied.

Tim couldn’t even muster a response, just producing an epic eye.

It wasn't uncommon for the two alpha males to goad each other and after a few weeks of touring and sharing cramped sleeping spaces, the tension was boiling over.

Before Zack could shoot back a quip, the van started to rattle as they reached their exit. Chicago roads are as about holey as a slice of swiss cheese, so the two thought they hit a pothole. Dana, awoke from her slumber, asking about the noise.

"What the hell was that? Did we hit something?" Dana, still in a haze asked. But the van started to slow down, with a final caput happening. Only a few minutes in their drive left, with their places of residence in sight, the trusty tour van had run out of gas. Zack thought he could cruise on the last bit of gas for the final trek, but misjudged the length of the trip.

He pulled over to a side street, Tim wasn't enthused Zack tried to tempt fate.

“Well this is just f*****g great,” Tim said as a vein perturbed from his head. With his band pulling a nearly 600-mile all-nighter and their van stopping a mere few miles from their homes, the extra patience he stored up from the two hours of sleep he accumulated evaporated quickly. His face was only getting redder thanks to driver Zack, who forgot to alert his bandmates he used the remaining gas money on a bag of Fritos.

Chicago’s infamous wind chill had also decided to bid them a frigid welcome home. Not willing to compromise their punk integrity, the band was decked out in only in flannels, hoodies and jean jackets, which helped them live lightly, but not help them with their bouts of shivering. The second city’s winters were no joke, but the band thought they would have been able to bypass mother nature’s onslaught after their week of shows.

The band (Tim, Zack, and Dana) comprised Teenage Departure, a punk trio who called Chicago their homebase. From their humble beginning,s they believed their angst-filled EPs were their golden ticket for having eternal street cred. Their dedicated followers touted their discography as the second coming of The Replacements, but their nights of playing dives to sparse crowds and opening 30 minute sets for bigger acts had them thinking otherwise.

The three would agree getting any type of gig was a revelation, as some of their earlier sets were a blueprint for how to not succeed. Being off rhythm, untuned instruments and shouting matches over the setlist were common occurrences at early Teenage Departure shows, much like the skunk beer the concertgoers downed in between songs.

But after a few years they got their s**t together and were as tight as a drum. Sets went off without a hitch and getting a decent slice of the door profits had them thinking this could work. But scraping by took its toll, leading to more arguments and five years in, the honeymoon phase was over.

This level of uncertainty was bubbling to the surface for Tim and coursed its way through the rest of the band. Despite being a tight-knight crew, each member had their doubts about how far this dream could go.

Once they made the long trek up the exit ramp, Zack took it upon himself to take control of the situation.

“We’ll let’s get moving, can’t disappoint the fanbase,” Zack ordered the group, with Tim shooting him a death stare.

Zack was the most vocal of the three; it’s the territory that comes with being the unofficial frontman of the band. Although some will question if a drummer, who is always in the back, can lead a united front.

Tim’s groans directed at Zack did not fall on deaf ears, but everyone fed into Zack’s confidence, feeling it could lead them to greater things. Zack wasn’t lying about their timing as the band had a hometown gig at the Double Door that night.

Despite not closing the show, they were in good company as the headlining band were long time buds. And luckily for the Teenage Departure crew, the headliners got their label head to come out to give the band a look. For the three, it was their last chance to prove this whole thing wasn’t a farce.

But tensions were brewing for the group. A rivalry is nothing new in a band - animosity can fuel artist's minds - but Dana could tell their current predicament riled Tim in another way. Always the optimist, she tried to steer the situation in a sunnier direction.

“Hey, there is some good news, though,” Dana interjected.

“What?” Tim replied.

Dana reached into the front seat of the battered old van the band had been calling home the past few weeks. “My phone’s fully charged.”

Zack produced a slight chuckle, but Tim’s incessant groans popped up again, dissolving any humor in the air. While still huffing, Zack took a smoke break to reward himself for getting the van up the exit

But that was how Dana functioned; the proverbial glue trying to keep the band together, with her glass half full attitude.

This show was Zack’s idea, but she was hoping it could bring her bandmates closer. But infighting between Tim and Zack was making that goal a bit more difficult. When the two would try to assert their dominance, the tension became palpable. You could cut the tension with a knife; there was no love lost.

He sauntered back from the random spot he found to take a break, laced up his shoes and took a view of the road ahead. The view was desolate, and at any moment, a tumbleweed could bounce across the empty road. A deserted highway at 7 am on a Thursday can be a cool site, but Zack was all business.

“There was a Speedway about a mile or two up the street; I’m sure we can get some gas there.”

Tim wasn’t having any of Zack’s hero shtick.

“How the f**k are we going to get any gas? We blew our last share because you needed those Fritos, we were only a few hours from home, you couldn’t have waited?”

The contempt from Tim was oozing, but Zack shot back with something he knew would get under his skin.

“Well, those Fritos were pretty delicious. But I’ll ride out to that gas station and see if I can borrow some gas.”

Zack had used the term “borrow” loosely as he had no intention of asking anyone for assistance. He pulled out a hose, funnel and fuel canister from the back of the van to MacGyver his way to a solution. The band also had a s****y 10-speed with rusted chains, back basket and no handlebar tape Dana bought from a friend of his a few weeks ago, in case situation like this arose.

“Alright, Tim since you’re too busy being pissy and feeling sorry for yourself, stay here and recover. I’ll head into town and find some gas. Shoot you a text on the way back.”

Zack jetted off in search of fuel, while Dana and Tim stood behind to guard the band’s equipment and what little-prized possessions they still had inside. As he pedaled off, Tim sat back down in the van with a look of defeat on his face. All these frustrations built up into his annoyance with Tim.

“Your brother is such a f*****g dick; he better get gas.”

Tim’s venting had to deal with his apprehension of keeping this band going. But it wasn’t always like this, but crashing on dingy beds and playing gigs that could barely pay for the beer they would get drunk on was taking its toll.

The touring lifestyle is a nomad lifestyle everyone’s twelve-year-old self dreams of doing. Who wouldn’t want to live in a van, munch on ice cream bars for dinner and visit new towns. It’s an alluring lifestyle that can grab hold of any wayward dreamers. And that’s Tim’s goal. After years of penning notebooks page to page with lyrics and poems to help him escape his crappy life, he sought recluse in the touring band lifestyle. He didn’t have to be home, bosses were non-existent, and the ever-present dread of normal life was gone. But he was getting disillusioned with his escape.

He was initially reluctant to join the group but trusted Dana’s original sales pitch. She had always wanted to start a band, looking for her way to get out of her home. She convinced her brother Tim to lend his drum skills to the group, but they just they needed a vocalist to round out the group. They could find a random guitar player at the local dive, but sought someone who could propel their artistic integrity to the next level; that’s where Tim came in.

Tim was always a fan of playing in bands, but never one to take the activity all that serious. He was more preoccupied with getting drunk at the end of the day and penning his musing that may come out as amateurish poetry. Dana knew this when she recruited him and was disappointed he didn’t have a sense of how great his musical capabilities were. But she put up with this disappointment and Tim’s disdain for her brother to keep the band going.

“I mean he booked this show and looked where it got us, in the middle of f*****g nowhere,” Tim countered while taking a swig from the band’s whiskey supply. Despite their low bank accounts, each member could count on one or another to have some cheap booze at the ready. Drinking that early in the morning would have your doctor praying for your well being, but Tim was hoping the early morning descent into day drinking would help alleviate his problems. And much like our old friend alcohol does, it only made the situation worse.

The booze had made Tim start spewing his laundry list of what was wrong with the band and his life. Tim was no stranger to the fact that he was a walking rock n’ roll cliché, drinking straight out of whiskey bottle and only smoking American Spirits.

Tim passed the bottle to Dana hoping they could each have some liquid courage to talk about their frustrations. The duo decided to take their airing of the grievances on a stroll to warm up. They left their van on the side of the road, feeling that no one in their right mind would want the piece of s**t.

Walking down the street, the two shared the bottle of whiskey, each taking a swig, getting warmer in the process, thanks to the sun making a much-needed experience. Tim was taking larger sips, which was alarming Dana, who enjoyed a good weekday buzz, but wasn’t keen on getting sloppy before the morning commuters woke up. It was then that Tim dropped a bombshell.

“I think this is going to be it for me,” Tim said with a sense of relief in his voice. Dana took a pause on the road and looked at him with confusion. She was putting on a front, as she knew what he meant, but deep down she didn’t want to accept the fact that Tim, was going to throw in the towel, and ruin her dreams. It had always been her dream to make it as a band, and she felt having a gifted lyricist in Tim would help her achieve this. Unfortunately, this feeling was lost on Tim, who didn’t realize the repercussions his lack of interest would have on the other members of the group.

“What do you mean, just quit the band?” Dana asked curiously. Tim looked back at her as if she was asking what color the sky was.

“Just music, it’s a waste of time. I’m not going to squander my life living in cramped vans and staying at s****y motels, for gigs that only pay in half a month’s rent.”

Both sighed as they parked their butts on a park bench, but Dana’s head was still swimming, no thanks to the hooch and Tim drop kicking her with his declaration. She too was aware of the duality of being in a band, not knowing if they would be able to feed themselves the next day. But that sense of mystery was her motivation; she couldn’t get enough of the excitement of the unknown. Sure she probably slept with some motel bed bugs more than she liked, but that punk rock attitude was what kept her going every single day.

Half of the whiskey was left in the bottle, and each was feeling the sensation of the brown liquor coursing through their veins. It was this confidence that produced their true feelings to flow like a faucet.

“Sure that sucks, but you gonna look me in the eye and tell me trying to sell cable accounts at Best Buy is a better alternative to this?” Dana was the most patient person in the band, but even a saint can have their breaking point. She had put up with most of Tim’s bullshit for the past five years and felt this was the most opportune moment to inject a little humility into his ego.

“I remember how s****y that that gig was, but I’m just ready for something new man. I’m just...I dunno...just tired of it all.” Dana could hear in his voice that the last few shows took a toll. She knew Tim and her brother Zack didn’t get along, but she wanted to save the band, not only for her sake but Tim’s.

In the distance, they saw a diner they could grab some grub to help sop up the whiskey they had digested over the past hour. With the few bucks they still had in their pockets, they managed to scrounge together enough to buy a plate of fries. Dana’s eyes lit up when she noticed you could add ranch to the plate for a mere quarter, but Tim was more concerned with how he was going to punish his liver later.

After the fries arrived and were digested, Dana peered out the window reeling from the proclamation Tim related to her. After about 10 minutes of awkward silence, they decided to continue their drunken vision quest with the remaining booze.

Dana sought to make Tim reconsider his retirement. Dana believed the best way to convince him to change his mind was to beat him at his own game; drinking. Her small stature gave off she would be one easily, but she could throw them back. Tim was peering down at an empty whiskey bottle.

“Well this thing is shot, how about we keep this train going?”

After tossing the bottle, they were able to get two tall boys; in Chicago, a store owner didn’t think twice about two people buying beer at the crack of dawn. But drinking booze so early in the day made Dana a tad bit uncomfortable. The punk rock ethos is one of defiance, with no one wanting to show they are having fun. While she did subscribe to that feeling, she would readily admit she diverted from this path every now and again.

As he slurped from his can, Tim laid out his plan for the rest of the day. “Pretty much after this gig tonight throwing in the towel. My cousin said I could help at his auto body shop in Waukegan. Gonna trek out there next week.”

“But what if the gig goes well tonight?” Dana replied. “Zeke from the label will be there, and he’s always been pretty rad to us. We could get a full length going and see how a next tour goes.

Tim seemed to have already his mind made up, but the idea of an album peaked his interest.

“You think? I dunno Zeke’s been fine, but he’s signed some pretty s****y bands in the past. Not in the mood to put my name on something with people who are dicks.”

Dana’s confidence was a bit rocked at the moment, and she wasn’t sure how to boost Tim’s confidence. How do you convince someone, who seems to be completely checked out, to muster up enough drive to keep going? It wasn’t just Tim’s apathy that she was faced with, she was also battling her insecurities of being a nobody. She was aware more bands failed than made it. It was this sense of fading away that had her frightened beyond belief. She wasn’t looking to burn out but wanted to make a mark that people would look fondly on for years to come. It was this fear that was her driving force to tell Tim to stay with Teenage Departure.

While they were both contemplating life, Dana and Tim got a text from Zack alerting them he procured some gas from an unsuspecting Porsche owner. It was now or never that Dana had to convince Tim to give Teenage Departure and music one last shot.

“You think you're gonna be happy if you give up music?” Dana said with a slight if not identifiable aggression in her voice. “Why don’t you wait till, after the show, Zack said it's looking to sell out.”

“It just f*****g sucks to pour my heart into this s**t and only have a few indie kids appreciate it. Being the next Killers would suck, but I want the music to resonate in some way.”

Dana looked at him, cocked an eyebrow, and let it rip. “But that is a worst-case scenario...see...let me make a deal with you if this gig goes off without a hitch will you give it another chance? If you’re dissatisfied with it all, then so be it.”

Tim looked shocked; he wasn’t used to people calling him on his bullshit. Maybe it was the booze or the fact she got in his face, but Tim could tell that Dana felt passionate, not only for the band but making music. He may have played everything off in his life like no big deal and amplified his apathy, but Tim did care about what his friends thought and wanted. He was always grateful for her introducing him to the band.

The next few minutes the two continued their journey back to the van. They could see Zack in the distance putting gas back into the van. As they sauntered back to the van, they clinked their drinks together, took one last swig and tossed them behind them, not caring if their location. No words needed to be said during that final cheers; both could tell that they weren’t gonna let each other down. They both knew they had a tough road ahead, but it was one they were willing to forge together.

Author's Note

How's the dialogue? Paragraphs go too long?