Summertime Series - The Day The Music Died Part 4 of 4

"And the three men I admire most: The father, son, and the holy ghost, They caught the last train for the coast The day the music died." Don McLean from "American Pie"

The nurse was staring at me as I tried to open my crusted shut eyes. She shook the Dixie cup in from of me rattling the pills in the bottom. Yet, somehow I knew I wouldn't get them until I was done with the Minnesota saga.

With my darling dear Cari headed off to college to improve the size of her big old brain, me and the fellas were poised to rock at Wee Fest. This event is an all day concert, several different bands, lots of beer, and even a little blow. I was amped, for obvious reasons, to see the spectacle not because I was a fan of country music, no not I, but there were two performers on the bill that I was Bang Zoom to the Moon over seeing. One was the legendary Merle Haggard, come on, he's a staple of country and stone cold drinking machine, someone to be admired. Then there was the headliner who had me giddy like a school girl at Sadie Hawkins. The one, the only, Ray Charles. Oh Daddy! I was pumped. I endured Trisha Yearwood, drank my way through Merle, and then with a healthy buzz cooking I was ready to be dazzled. A little Minnesota summer rain started to fall and Ray pulled the plug on his set after two songs. Didn't even get to What I Say. I was crushed, pissed and too drunk to care. I booed him harshly and left.

All the remained was closing the Hotel. As winter digs didn't come so easy and Cari was getting her knowledge on, I decided to drive my $400 Ford Fairmont back to California, no one thought it was gonna make it.

Closing night at the Hotel is a combination of celebration and painful goodbye. There are moments of of joy followed by tears of separation. Jeff, Travis, and I all worked until Rick, the owner and all around booze hound, told us to join the festivities. We did, with gusto. I was scheduled to depart the very next morning, the car was already packed. I knew I would be hungover and I knew that wasn't going to matter, the night was for us.

As I look back on that summer, and yeah I romanticize it more than I probably should, but ti was the greatest time of my life. I knew I would never feel at home in LA again, I did, but I always longed for my small town. Guess now I have it again, and if Jeff, Travis, Angie, and Cari were here I would be content to stay forever, but I"m getting off the closing night festivities, sorry.

As the evening started to wind down, meaning the doors were locked, it was well after hours, and it was still packed to the rafters because no one wanted to leave, a yearly tradition took place. The singing of Sangria and Wine by Jerry Jeff Walker, a song I came to know there and haven't heard since, was the first of the two. The last song of the night was American Pie, by Don McLean. You have to imagine 100 drunk Norwegians yelling at the top of their lungs through the entire song, awesome I know. Jeff, Travis, and I, arms over each others shoulders were powering through it until the line "The three men I admire most" when from our right we heard Fudgie, another of the bartenders, yell "Travis, Mike, and Jeff" Instant tears from me. The other two held their shit together until "The caught the last train for the coast" The reality that I was heading back out west hit and my boys wept. Perfect ending. I drove back to California the next morning never to return and taint my memory of the perfect summer, the perfect time, the perfect place, with the perfect people.

Ever have a summer that stands out as the best one?

Dixie Cup of Love: The good People of Detroit Lakes, circa 1993