Hey! I'm back. Hope you like it!

Chapter 5- Daniel

I hate disco. I really hate it.

If I have to listen to "Stayin' Alive" one more time, I don't think I'm gonna be stayin' alive, that's for sure.

Nick is an idiot for being all mushy-mushy lovey-dovey with Weir. Than she would likely still be with him. And I wouldn't have to deal with Sarah, and everything would just be better. Plus, Nick would probably chill out if he got laid more often.

Like I don't have enough to deal with without Disco Bitch. I'm in a foreign city (what exactly is foreign? Like China or just not where you live?) , with a ton of money, all my friends, St. Millie, and a bunch of equipment. Not to mention the fact that Kim's been on edge lately, who knows why. Maybe she's got here period or something.

But finally, after a long night of (not) sleeping, ahem, it was time to go to CBGB's. I gathered up all our crap, got in the van, and headed to Bowery. For the fifth time since we got here, I wondered why Ken was here, and for what felt like the eightieth time today, Ken and Amy looked at each other like those two guys in Love Story. Too damn cute.

We got there, Kim looks in awe. Her eyes practically lit up. I couldn't blame her. It felt exciting just to be here, just to feel like you were in this city. It felt important, like you could be something. I know it sounds completely corny, but, I don't know, I feel like I could be more than that idiot from Chippewa. I could be Daniel, that awesome guitarist from Creation, who went on to be the next Jimmy Page, Pete Townshend, Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, etc. To quote that old blue-eyed guy from New Jersey, I wanted to be a part of it. (My parents are Italian. My dad used to play this song when he got home from work. When he could work)

Sarah snorted and said "I bet one of those kids will beat me up. I'll stay inside." Well, thank god for small favors.

But then Nick wanted Sarah to stay, but he couldn't convince her to say. I don't think Lindsay couldn't have looked more relieved. Kim didn't look too sad either. I just to relax, tune up, and get ready to play. I couldn't focus on anything else.

I honestly can't remember anything that happened before we got onstage. I can't tell you what I felt or what anybody said or did. It's all just giant blur of things. Up to the minute we got on stage, I was barely breathing.

Finally, we got on stage. There were a bunch of kids in the mosh pit, and I have to admit, a bottle making contact with skull seemed pretty likely if we didn't play some music. I saw stickers for a bunch of bands that had recently played there- Ramones, New York Dolls, X Ray Spex,- and all of a sudden I got pretty fucking intimidated. I mean, in Chippewa, I was the (what did Rosso call me? Fonx? Fonz? I don't watch much TV) here; just a guy in a garage band.

Pretty soon, Nick yelled "One, two, three, four!" and Harris goes into some bass riff, and play the opening chords of, you guessed it, "Sunshine of Your Love." I don't think most of the crowd knew the song, but they moshed along like there was no tomorrow. I saw Kim in the front, smiling and beaming. I hoped she didn't get buckled with a pair of Doc Martens.

Then, we really get into a groove, and we're really rocking. We still haven't written any original material, but we could do one bad-ass cover. Then, about five songs, I hear a shriek. Not just any shriek, a shriek I've heard too many times to count. God.

Anyway, when she tries to shriek again, some smelly skinhead guy tries to cover he mouth with his hand and tries to feel her up. Holy crap, this guy's tryin to hit on (in more way than one) my girlfriend. Oh, it's on.

"Oh shit," I mutter as I unplug my guitar and leap into the pit. Now, I don't wanna brag, but I kicked his ass HARD. Maybe a little too hard. Because I as soon as I try to get back on stage, someone screams, "What'd the hell was that for!" and some one else screams "I'm calling the freaking cops on you, dude!"

Well, I'm no genius, but I know when I'm not wanted. The band gets the drift and immediately grabs their instruments, and gets the hell out of there. We exited through the back exit, to avoid of angry, sweaty New Yorkers.

So let's recap-

I just beat up some guy in the audience cause he tried to pick up Kim

-I'm not getting paid for that gig.

-I'm probably not welcome back

-It's only nine o'clock, one a Friday night, in June, in the city.

-The whole band must hate me pretty hard right now.

-And I just realized I can't find Kim. Or Lindsay or Amy, for that matter.

Just another day in the life of Daniel Anthony Desario.