Coffeehouse Chronicles ...One Band, One Sound... My Foot
- Marc & Bridget Saunders
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
What up, Chroniclers? You got yer cup? Okay, let's go.
What a week. Great friends, great conversations, and somehow seven days disappeared faster than free pizza at a church potluck. Everybody agreed on one thing: it went by way too fast. It honestly felt like we unpacked on Tuesday and were loading the cars by Wednesday.
The week was generously sprinkled with:
bike rides
dinners out
copious amounts of camaraderie
a ball game
pizza
alleged cookies
cigars
fireside chats that solved exactly zero world problems but sounded convincing at the time
As previously documented in the official archives of the Coffeehouse Chronicles, the HB & I have a collection of friends affectionately known as The Band.
The name originated during our first cross-country adventure, which coincidentally was also the birth of the legendary Yoko Uno nickname. The story writes itself. On that trip she uttered the fateful words:
"Hey, you guys go ahead without us. We're running late."
Immediately, Mrs. Mayor fired back: "Oh no. One band, one sound."
Now there are only two possible explanations for this response:
She was currying favor with Mrs. Uno and securing an important voting bloc.
She was workshop-testing campaign slogans for reelection.
Picture it: Mrs. Mayor standing on a flatbed trailer, smile flashing, delivering her signature two-handed handshake while declaring:
"One Band. One Sound."
Now that's a platform.
Unfortunately, this morning proved that campaign promises are made to be broken.
The plan was for everyone to leave at precisely 11:01. Instead, I think it's time to rename the group The Soloists.
First out were Moe and Winnie.
No offense, folks, but they're still the rookies. Not exactly charter members. No one is really sure about them anyway. They were a foot out the door with the other on a banana peel, and it kinda looked bleak for them at tribal council at any rate.
Frankly, if Jeff Probst had walked through the campground, he would've snuffed both torches and said:"The tribe has spoken."
Off they went.
Next up were The Right Rev and The First Lady.
Now this was somewhat surprising since they usually stick around until after the final blessing and at least one more collection plate.
The Rev continues his very public search for a lime green suit to match his lime green Stacy Adams shoes. Rumor has it he's also petitioning flock to purchase a new airplane.
Keep hope alive, Rev. Dream big. The Wright brothers were told "no" once or twice, too.
Then came the departure of Mrs. Mayor and The Doc.
What in the name of municipal government was happening?
Mrs. Mayor claimed she had some urgent political junket requiring her immediate presence down at the docks. Her driver simply shrugged at the fellas as they rolled out.
Dog-gone it! This is the same woman who gave us the battle cry:
"One Band. One Sound."
Whiskey. Tango. Hotel. Y’all???
Campaign promises apparently expire at checkout time.
But despite the mass exodus, a strong contingent remained. There was The Captain and Tenille, the Professor, and surprisingly Yoko Uno, who is usually working covert operations to separate us into smaller groups.
Also present were Commander McCroc, Mrs. Scrubbles, and of course the HB and I...your humble narrator and occasional hero.
The remaining faithful caravanned up I-15 for about two-and-a-half hours, and everyone arrived home safely, with only minor damage inflicted upon gas stations, snack inventories, and bathroom facilities along the route.
All in all, another fantastic week with a fantastic group of friends.
Until next time, Chroniclers, you know what to do:
Drink 'em if you got 'em.
Comments