Many years ago I played in a punk rock band, down in Austin, Texas. Although we had some brushes with greatness, we were never really a 'thing', and had only a few fans - aside from the people we knew personally, we had a small cadre of folks that used to come see us play at Houston's Emo's. At that time we were a trio - I played guitar, Jon played bass and did most of the vocals (I did vocals on a few songs, but was not really the front man), and Andy played the drums. The band was formed while we were all in college together, but at the time they had a different guitarist - I was just a fan. One time Andy ran into me playing acoustic guitar on the lawn in front of the college Chapel, and I played a few of his songs for him, which I had vaguely picked out by ear. This must have impressed him, since years later when their guitar left, they ended up (after auditioning a few locals) calling me in New York and asking if I wanted to join the band.

The band was loud. Loud enough that when we toured the West and played in Sacramento, the club guy had a decibel thing, and told us we were as loud as an airplane taking off and needed to turn down. My cousins came and saw us many years later at the Knitting Factory, and left because of the noise level. We usually got compared most charitably to the Melvins, who we got to meet and hang out with at one point.

But we were not a popular band, and couldn't exactly write our own ticket. Austin has a crazy amount of would-be musicians, and most clubs had a wide variety of acts to choose from. We were lucky if we got paid for a gig in Austin, and more often than not ended up playing just for visibility (and occasionally, practice).

The same wasn't true of nearby Houston and San Antonio, though, and when we were willing to take the road trip, we were able to get some gigs pretty readily. Houston treated us like rock stars, and we grew fans there over time. Not a ton, but compared to zero, 'six' is gigantic. The clubs we played in San Antonio were pretty sleepy, though, at least on the nights we played. There was a place named Wacky's, that I don't remember very well, but seemed like a generic place that would have been huge in Austin. And then there was Tacoland.

Tacoland was... unique, in *mostly* good ways. It was run by a guy named (as I understood it) Ram. He was a Character. He rarely paid us money, but usually gave us beer, and often did tequila shots with us, always toasting 'Fuck Santa Claus!' He was a bit too intense for me to actually ask about the toast (I felt like I might somehow offend him), but I honored the custom. He was the only guy I ever saw tend bar there, though I didn't know whether he was owner, manager, employee, or something in between. Andy was in charge of getting gigs with Ram, so I had less 'face time' with him than I did at the (few) clubs that were my job.

One night we played there on some terribly off night; it might have been a Tuesday. Our only audience aside from Ram was the sound guy and his friend, and one random lone guy playing pool by himself. Andy's girlfriend Jenn was our driver, and cheered us on while we went through the motions of an entire set.

After the gig, we hung out for a bit. Jon ended up playing pool with our audience of one for a while, and Andy and Jenn and I talked with the sound guy (and friend) and Ram. None of us were in any especial rush to drive back to Austin, though I think at that point we had already packed the van. After maybe twenty minutes, the guy who was playing pool went to the bathroom, and Jon came over to tell us about him. He told us that the guy was housesitting some guy's house, which he said was elaborate, and that he couldn't stop raving about the Spanish-tiled floors - and had offered that we could spend the night with him. Jon didn't want to spend the night any more than we did, but thought the guy was nice and we should meet him.

He returned from the bathroom, and Jon made introductions. "This is Andy," he said, and the guy said "hi", and shook his hand. "And this is Jenn," he continued, and the guy said "nice to meet you", and shook her hand. And then he turned to me, and I reached forward to shake his hand. Jon said, "and this is James."

And the man said "I'll piss in your mouth."

I froze with whatever I had intended to say, though I was now already shaking his hand. After a few beats I managed, "no.... thank you?"

He held my gaze a second too long, and then launched into his earlier offer, to have us spend the night at the huge house he was house-sitting, with the Spanish-tiled floors. My grip on reality was frankly kind of rocked at this point. I looked back and forth at my friends, and saw no sign that they had heard anything the slightest bit unusual. They were all engaging with him like he was a normal person, rather than a recent arrival from planet Cremulon. Had I somehow misheard? I wanted someone (else) to meet my eyes, to see how totally freaked out I was. But they didn't. The conversation went on for maybe ten minutes more. I was not able to contribute.

Finally, it ended, and he went elsewhere. I asked my friends if they had heard what he said, and I think Jenn said it first - 'did he ask you if he could piss in your mouth?' I corrected her - that he had said that he WOULD do it, not an offer, but a simple, quiet declaration.

Andy said 'yeah, what was that? I assumed you guys had been talking about it earlier'. And I informed him that they were the first words he had ever spoken to me. That he had apparently been waiting to say it to me, while making normal niceties with the rest of the band. That perhaps there was a reason that he wanted us to spend the night with him.

I did eventually manage to impress them with how freaked out I was, because they understood that the guy had actually said it, that they had all heard it, and that it was as purely random to me as I'm certain it is to you. We drove back to Austin, talking about the man with the Spanish-tiled floors, and playing an off night at Tacoland.