The first thousand miles had gone poorly; everyone had dosed everyone, plus there was weather.
Bobby (whom John Mayer was holding primarily responsible for psychedelicizing Katy Perry and sending her on a White Person Walkabout) and John were switching off driving and had been arguing since they left the Bay Area. They couldn’t decide on a radio station: John wanted the GD station on Sirius, and Bobby preferred the black stand-up comedy channel. After that, there were a couple hundred miles of genial chatter, which turned into ghost stories, except Bobby doesn’t know any ghost stories, so he started recounting old plots of Family Matters to John, but in a spooky voice.
By the time the Earthroamer hit the Great Plains, the cab was a tense place. It was also loud, because every window in the sucker was wide open, due to Billy taking umbrage at Bobby’s earlier poop.
“Bobby thinks he knows how to take shits? Nobody takes a shit like me. I take the best shits ever.”
And the other Grateful Deads were like,
“What?”
“Ew.”
“Dude.”
“I’m in here, man.”
And that was Garcia, who was in there, man, so Billy pooped in the sink and John Mayer had to pull the Earthroamer over and solo until he calmed down.
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