Last Thursday I embarked on the typical road trip with The Influence. Well, I take that back, it was a little atypical in that the van was equipped with a gas cap this time, but overall it was pretty much the same old routine. Contrary to what I’ve found to be popular belief, the van is actually really relaxing and comfortable! Therefore, I have very few road stories aside from detailing dreams I’ve had, but that’s a tangent I’m not prepared to go off on. However, I am fully prepared to give a [fairly] detailed account of my experiences in Hatteras and Kill Devil Hills.
The first thing I learned about the Outer Banks in general is that there are no locals at bars, or if there are they’re very reluctant to make themselves known. The second thing I learned is that tourists make for very good people-watching subjects, but sub-par social interaction. For example, I watched as a couple made a scene on the dance floor. I understand that The Influence plays excellent dance music and I’d be out there gettin down myself if I wasn’t so reluctant to leave the Merch Perch, but I don’t consider cowboy boots a license to ride your boyfriend…at least not in public.
Just as I was judging these people and their bad Western-themed relationship, I was brought back to reality by the sting of shards of glass flying into my legs. I turned around to see what the hell was going on and was met with a deer-in-headlights-esque stare from the man sitting behind me, hand still poised in glass-dropping position. Our eyes locked for a good 30 seconds before he literally jumped out of his seat and bolted for the door. Who are these people?
Every other interaction was the classic run in with severely inebriated men with intensive short term memory loss and fans in the audience throwing out rock hands. I never cease to be amused by the serious use of rock hands. Who started rock hands?? I guess that’s a google search for another day.
Now, in Hatteras, I learned that outdoors, all-age gigs in tourist-saturated areas are not as enjoyable as gigs in bars. Reasons: 1) a man with a heavy southern accent and killer mustache shouted expletives at the 14-yr-old girl sitting next to me. Subsequently, he refused to buy a t-shirt from me because the shirts didn’t have pockets for his menthol cigarettes. 2) the pack of kids swarming around the Perch were almost more annoying than the mosquitoes eating my flesh. They were so loud that I missed the guys’ cover of Karma Police. I love that song. 3) a non-band member played the broom stick on stage during one of the last songs. Don’t worry though, it’s fine. It’s his thing….
Overall, though, Hatteras really opened my eyes to 3 main things: the myriad ways that Hatteras is comparable to Mexico, the importance of surfing, and that Ocracoke is quite possibly the best city in the United States.
Hatteras, like Mexico, has taco stands and tends to be hot. The Influence might as well have been a mariachi band. Ocracoke is a great location for surfing and fishing. Surfing needs no explanation. Just support it. Mexico. Ocracoke. Surfing. Mexico. I think my brain is about to Bleed Out.
But the most important thing I learned in OBX was from Matt: Scabies are a foul, yet treatable, skin disease and anyone who has it should seriously just consult a physician to take care of it.
And with this, I bid you adieu.