"No shit?" asked Tay, still shaking his head.

"One of us gets a good idea..." grinned Zac.

"Hey, go easy on him, will ya? He's a bit shaken up at the moment." Tay nodded his approval. Zac just got that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Come on, Zac..." coaxed Tay. No change. "Right - GET HIM!"

After Zac had submitted and promised not to tease Ike under pain of tickling to suffocation, we had to decide what to do with the rest of our afternoon. I suggested we drag Kevin out of his perpetual slumber and get him to take us to the Bull Ring - the large shopping centre in the middle of Birmingham.

It was a unanimous "yes" to this idea, so Kevin was dragged, blurry eyed, from his caravan and propped into the driving seat of the Range Rover.

"Is he safe to drive like that?" I asked.

"Well, we do have seatbelts..." said Tay.

An hour later, we were stood in the middle of the Bull Ring in suitably ridiculous camouflage gear, each of us dressed very out-of-character. Zac was wearing a pair of Realtree paintball trousers and a fleece, the hood of which he had pulled up tight round his face, and a pair of Cat boots. Tay was wearing a baggy black Lee top, loose fitting black jeans, Raybans and my Prodigy woolly hat I'd lent him. The black CrossTrainers he had on finished it off quite nicely. I was wearing Tay's AirWalks, my favourite pair of jeans that were threadbare at the knees, and a red 'Lumberjack' shirt. Kevin just looked a mess, but a bloody mean one none-the-less. I had to get a photo of this - we looked absolutely priceless!

Looking around, though, I soon realised that what we were wearing was about right - everyone else around our age seemed to be wearing that baggy Gangsta shit (you know, crotch at your knees, trainers with tongues big enough to be shin pads...). We looked normal for god's sake...

Our excursion started in an HMV MegaStore. As Tay leafed through the "Best of..." style compilation albums with Zac, I headed to the MiniDisc section. I'd had an MD deck for a while, and I'd recently bought an MD walkman to match. But could I find any pre-recorded software for it where I lived? Like hell I could... H... Ha... Han... Shit! No Hanson... Oh well. Prodigy - Music for the Jilted Generation. I didn't have a real copy of that...

Half an hour and fourteen quid later we all emerged with our respective purchases. The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful - the only remarkable incident being Zac loosing his balance on an escalator, the result being him, myself, Tay and Kevin all stumbling back down, taking a few innocent bystanders with us.

Only once did we get a "Are you Taylor Hanson?", although that was swiftly dealt with by Kevin. "No. He definitely is not..." They didn't argue...

The traffic was bad in Birmingham's city centre as we tried to fight our way back to the NEC. By the time we arrived, it was nigh on half six. As we turned into the Arena car park, Kevin yelled "Heads!". Tay and Zac immediately got into an aircraft crash-landing position. Not quite knowing what was going on I just stayed how I was, looking around. Then I saw them, a sea (albeit a small one) of people in front of us in the middle of the road, waving Hanson banners. Oh, shit...

Kevin slowed down dumped his elbow on his door lock, the central locking isolating us from the undulating masses outside. He literally had to push his way through them with the car, hands bashing the windows and trying the doors. Now I realised why they were crouched down. Accompanying the screams were a multitude of camera flashes - now I too was curled up! Once we'd pushed through, the NEC security team did an admirable job of keeping them back.

"They're here already?" I asked.

"That's about right," said Tay. "We've known people arriving at venues even before we have!"

"Look, lads," interrupted Kevin, "I don't wantcha out 'ere this evenin' wi' them around, OK?"

"Looks like solitary confinement again," sighed Zac. That suited me just fine...

Back in the trailer, Zac flicked on the TV and started channel-hopping. "Is that all?" asked Zac, having reached channel 44 on the satellite receiver. "That's crap..."

Zac's flicking eventually settled on MTV. That dodgy girl from Byker Grove was hosting MTV Dial. Zac picked up the cell phone from the counter and dialled.

"Zac - you're not..." I couldn't finish my sentence: Zac brought his finger to his lips to shush me.

"Yeah, Zac from Birmingham...." He said after a short pause. "Er, number 64, I Will Come To You..."

Dario G's Sunchyme finished and the next caller was announced. "I love the costume's they wear in that video... Anyway, we've got Zac from Birmingham on line 4 - Hi Zac!"

"Er, Hi!"

"So, what video have you chosen for us, then?"

"I'd like Hanson's I Will Come To You..."

"And who would you like to dedicate it to?"

"Um, my brother Tay and my friend Dean, please..."

"Sure - you just did! OK, Here's the Huggable Hanson brothers with their latest European Number One, I Will Come To You... Hey, are yo..." she was cut off as the opening black and white scenes of what I thought was the best of their videos started, Zac quickly pressing the 'end' button.

"It really cracks me up when he does that..." grinned Tay. "Half the time they never realise it's actually one of us and the other half they don't believe it!"

The conversation sort of fell dead for a while then, all of us just quietly watching the video. Then I remembered the pack of cards I'd brought with me. "Anyone for strip poker?"


On to Chapter Ten

Back to Chapter Eight

Chapter Index

Dean Lidster Home Page

Email the Author - dean@meta4.org

Touring with Hanson is © 1998 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer