Since a school friend of mine, Tolee, introduced me to Primus back in 8th grade I have been a fan of the bass driven-guitar shredding-whammola-mothergoose on acid lyic band. They’re a trio that stands in a category all their own. I can’t really describe their sound other than it’s good stuff. Especially when listening under the influence of some foreign substance to help enhance the senses. There may have been imitators that try to jump on the same boat but no one has come close to taking helm of the warped out schroom induced voyage.

Les Claypool plays bass and does the funky vocals that tickle the fanny. A lot of times he runs solo across the world on his side projects. Unfortunately, I have never seen him perform live on a solo run.

Well… Not a full set at least…

It was 2003. Excitement was brewing inside of my stomach. Actually alcohol was. Southern Comfort to be exact. And the same with McGregor and one of the most insane individuals I know, Jeff oh-so Fowler.

McGregor is a school buddy. We went to the same school for Computer Science and one of the most skilled programmers I know. He never went to class. He barely broke opened a book. And he would get a higher grade than me and most people on the exam. He smoked and drank and was hard to keep up with at times. I enjoy his toss out of caution. Always adds for a fun night.

Jeff is a tall white guy I hired while I was a supervisor at a plasma bank in Gainesville, FL. His unique personality and unusual thought process is what proceeded me to give a green light at his interview. He’s very verbose with his answers and responses to anything. They come out confusing yet thought provoking yet entertaining. He’s an open thinker. A free thinker. A person of raw energy. We both like to take life by the horns and ride it like a wild bull. He just takes it a few steps further than I would ever really want to. I have limits that Jeff is so brave enough to cross. Sometimes he crosses it out of curiosity. Sometimes he crosses it out of stupidity.

We had been pre-drinking the afternoon away as we were about to head out to see Les Claypool at Janus Landing. A very cool open-air venue in between the buildings of downtown St. Pete, FL. This would be my very first live show of Claypool after missing him countless times due to school or an exam or some scheduling conflict or a shitty ex-girlfriend. But not today. Today would be the day I would finally see Claypool go all out on stage.

As time was coming down we loaded up in my car. In addition to the three of us, we were going to meet another friend, Byron and his little band of minions, at the show as well. A fine crowd to what we hoped would be a grand show.

Now, out of the three in my party I had the least amount to drink. So, I was the DD for the trip over there [Don't do as I did in this story and drink and drive. Do what the others do and find a friend who is allergic to alcohol]. McGregor was in the passenger seat. Jeff was in the back seat. In his hand a plastic bottle full of Southern Comfort and Pepsi. CORRECTION. A plastic bottle that was mostly Southern Comfort and a drop of Pepsi. But McGregor and I didn’t realize it. Nor did we realize how much Jeff had to drink prior to leaving. It was almost half the bottle. All we knew was he was way too excited and a hyper mess in the back seat. The man was rambling loudly and speaking a lot of nonsense. The closer we got to downtown St. Pete the more his speech slurred. He kept spatting out random shit from his mouth. Random shit that made no sense. But at the same time, I thought Jeff was just being his usual self. I didn’t realize that Southern Comfort has taken over his blood stream.

We parked and decided to head to a bar first for some more pre-show drinks. Jeff took off and said he was going to go to the restrooms. McGregor and I ventured to The Lounge, a chilled out bar joint just around the corner from the venue. Very cool. Very mellow. We had a couple of drinks and bséd for a bit. After twenty minutes we realized Jeff was a no show from his potty run.

It’s not unusual for him to run off and never return. He’s done this to me quite a few times in the past. I usually end up finding him past out some god forsaken place. My worries on his disappearance was low.

We ventured off and found him conscious, thankfully, in front of Janus Landing talking to some girl who looked to be in a state of shock. She obviously was not inviting to Jeff’s presence. Here’s some tall white guy wreaking of alcohol. In addition, has become somewhat pale and was sweating bullets from the forehead while he wore a silly grin like a mercury infested mad hatter. He looked like a real nut case. I did the good deed and intervened between the two of them. She seemed relieved of my actions. He seemed too happy to notice he didn’t really score points on her.

” Dude! Dude! I’m fuckin loving this! I’m totally feeling this!” the hyper man-child kept saying as we entered Janus Landing. McGregor and I looked at each like with WTF expressions.

Jeff was constantly waving a fist in the air as if at a rugby sporting match. He would then go up to people and shake the hands with every possible person he came across. Each one greeted with his unusual words of wisdom. He almost seemed diplomatic if we were in a political setting of some sort. We let him be. He was enjoying himself way too much at this point.

Byron has never met Jeff before. I’ve spoken to Byron before and always told him that he had to meet Jeff. He’s one of the most unusual, entertaining people you will ever come across. A man of interesting thought and wit. A person that will leave a lasting indention in your head, positive or negative.

Unfortunately, tonight it would be a negative indention. BUT a memorable one.

We approached Byron and his crew of three and exchanged greetings like manly men.

I introduced Jeff, ” Hey guys. This is Jeff. “

Jeff looked over to everyone. Pale. Sweat pouring from his four head. And a permanent drunken grin.

He said aloud to everyone and anyone, ” Dude. I just pissed myself. And I fuckin love it!”

The tone shifted to a ‘Awesome, great to see you’ vibe to an ‘My god! He just pissed his pants’. McGregor, Byron and his band of three, and myself look down at Jeff’s shorts to find a very visible soaked urine stain in the crotch. He wasn’t lying nor did I have doubts in Jeff’s statement. He really did piss his pants and there was no shame.

I could tell from the look on Byron’s face that he wasn’t too certain what to make of the man, the mystery, that was Jeff. In fact, I don’t know if anyone at that given moment could make any sense of him. Other than he was way too drunk to be out in a social setting and almost a public embarrassment.

Just then Jeff bended forward and released the inner fillings of his stomach onto the floor.

Byron and his crew said ‘cya immediately while McGregor and I ventured to Jeff’s aid. We got the man some water and we sat him down on the side. People were looking at us. Some with disgust. Some with concern. While nursing the poor drunken man the show began.

Claypool was on stage in an all out safari outfit doing what he does best. Fiddle the bass.

Jeff was doing what he does best. Being out of his mind. Drunk. And, well, almost unconscious.

A security guard approached us and told us he had to leave. That translated more so to ‘We’ had to leave. And not later. Not after a few songs. But NOW. Immediately.

We looked down at the poor guy and water was not going to make him feel better. He was extremely pale at this point and a sweating mess. His clothes were soaked from both his pores and own piss. The fucker was going through some really bad alcohol poisoning. Really bad. He did, after all, piss his pants and enjoyed the soilage. I don’t know many people that would consider that a positive thrill. Well, I have seen two girls and cup and I guess there’s a thrill for everyone out there.

Sick people.

Knowing Jeff needed some immediate medical care we carried him out of Janus Landing. Claypool at this point only played two or three songs. but it didn’t matter. We needed to get Jeff to the hospital fast.

McGregor and I carried his ass into the emergency room. Nurses came and took him away. They knew immediately what went down. More so, they could smell what went down. Alocohol. Lots of it. And piss.

I’ve never had to take anyone to the emergency room. I took myself once because I had gastroenteritis one time. But I recovered. Jeff had alcohol poisoning and was in the worst possible condition I’ve ever seen him in. I’ve seen him down a lot of alcohol before but this was way past any limit I’ve seen him in. McGregor and I were within the same thought.

” I hope that fucker doesn’t die. “

After a couple of hours, a nurse comes to us. We both get up immediately to ask if our friend was alright. she looked at us sternly.

” He was in bad shape alright. We had to give him two bags of IV. But I think he’s going to be ok. When he gained consciousness I asked for his name and he kept saying ‘My name is Abdul Ja-Marhi. I am from Afghanistan.You must let me go at once.’ He refused to give me his real name. What is his name?”

McGregor and I looked at each other. Yeah, the pisser was going to be alright. But what a scare he put us through. We provided the nurse his real name and all. Jeff was just trying to get out of paying for a hospital visit. I’m sure he would have to sneaked out of the hospital if he could.

We left him at the hospital for a couple more hours to recover while we went back to the bar for a few more drinks. We figured we’d make the most of the evening despite the errors of our friend.

I may have missed Les Claypool but Jeff lives on. I got another chance to see Les Claypool though. March 4th at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta, GA. Jeff do not join me on this venture. Thus, I was guaranteed to see the full set.

Tags: Alcohol poisoning, Byron, Janus Landing, Jeff, Les Claypool, McGregor, Southern Comfort, St. Pete, The Lounge