Everybody likes The Decemberists, but I will tell you right now that no one likes The Decemberists more than fellow TMT writer Petya Romanov and I. We'll fucking die for Colin Meloy, and if we were intoxicated, we'd totally die for Chris Funk too. In fact, one time Petya saved Colin Meloy's life. You didn't know because he's just too god damn humble to tell anyone about it. Petya, I know how you feel about this story, but the masses need to know the truth!
It's been about two years now since the life-saving event occurred on Febuary 24 2006. Petya and I had just met in Portland, OR and were attending some of the many titty bars in the neighborhood. (We originally went to spend our money on Portland's amazing music scene, but after we discovered the incredible sex scene, we decided that our money would be better "invested" elsewhere.) It was probably about 9:30 PM when Petya pointed at his AAA Guide: XXX Edition and promptly decided our next stop. We rolled into George's Dancin' Bare around 9:40, and both of our jaws dropped -- but for two very different reasons. My gaze was immediately drawn to a brunette dancing on one of the poles closest to the bar, and I start heading over that way. Petya grabs my shoulder and yells, "Scout!" He then proceeds to grab my head and point it toward the most bad-ass thing I've ever seen: Indie rock god Colin Meloy was getting a fucking lap dance right there in George's Dancin' Bare, and Petya and I got to watch! Petya gets all giddy and takes out his autograph Sharpie, while I run over thinking of how I can score an interview with him.
"Colin Meloy!" we scream. He gets up without saying a word, the stripper tumbling to the ground. He starts to quickly walk out and proceeds to trip; as Meloy falls, his glasses fall off and his cellphone flings out of his hand. His glasses promptly get crushed by a passerby, while his cell phone begins chirping a polyphonic version of "Engine Driver." Meloy is on the ground pouting, and he's looking at his cellphone screen, but he can't see who's calling since the motherfucker is blind as a bat without those hip black-framed glasses. Petya picks up Meloy's phone and says, "Oh shit, dude, it says 'the ol' ball & chain.'" Meloy flips out and yells, "What? Give me my fucking phone." We can tell he's wasted out of his mind. Meloy tries playin' it cool and he proceeds to sweet talk his wife by saying "Hey Carson, how're you, hunny?" After about a minute, he ends the call and stands up, as if he's just received the biggest fucking buzz kill of his life. Petya notices the problem and asks Meloy if Carson's water had broken. Colin looks stunned, and he asks Petya if he's a doctor. Petya replies by saying, "No sir, I'm a music journalist." Meloy smiles and throws Petya his car keys.
Minutes later, we're in Meloy's Z28 with Petya at the wheel and Colin riding shotgun to the hospital. We're on the interstate, rushing toward the hospital as fast as Petya's driving skills can safely get us there. When we finally make it, Meloy looks like absolute shit. We try and clean him up; Petya takes off his own black-framed glasses and hands it to Meloy. Miraculously, Petya's prescription is the exact same as Meloy's! Colin gets out of the car and thanks us. As Meloy stumbles toward the hospital, I hop up to the driver's seat and Petya winks at me. I tell him he's done a great thing and high-five him. We drive off in Colin Meloy's car, listening to some unreleased Decemberist's material that Meloy was jamming to.
If you'd like to support the man that is Colin Meloy who's supporting his new solo live album, Colin Meloy Sings Live! (due in April on Kill Rock Stars), then go see him at one of the following shows. You can even pick up an exclusive Colin Meloy Sings Sam Cooke album! Who know, maybe he'll be wearing Petya's glasses?
