The Sin Of Pride

 

There was some discussion recently about the time I threw Sugar’s sandwich out of our hotel room in the Greater Cincinnati area onto the roof of the ground floor car park.  On the surface, this sounds like a heartless and cold act, taking away a small simple joy for no reason except cruelty.  However, there is a track record for this action.  I didn’t necessarily want to toss that tuna sandwich off the balcony, but I feel as if I would have failed Sugar if I had not done it.  I was not acting as some sort of rogue agent.  I was put in this position of having to heave that sandwich off that balcony.  If I didn’t act, I would have failed to live up to my responsibility.  I owed it to her.  You see, there is a rule in the van about “The Sin of Pride”. 

 

“The Sin of Pride” began in the mid 1990s.  Bobby Latina was a smoker at that point.  I’m not sure why he started smoking, but I think it had something to do with the fact that he was 19 years old surrounded by older degenerates like Leo that all smoked.  If we had been a prog rock band, he probably would have been reading “Dune” instead of sharing a pack of Marlboros with Leo.  Frankly, if we had been a prog rock band, that just would have created longer load-ins at clubs with Leo needing a 17 piece kit, and he’s got enough challenges keeping his 4 piece kit in working order.  Also, I don’t think any of us wanted to drive around listening to Robert Fripp cassettes, so it’s probably for the best that we played the kind of music we did/do.

 

So, what happened was that Bobby had purchased a pack of cigarettes at a gas station.  This in itself was a rarity as he mostly bummed smokes off Leo, or sometimes they would pool their money to share a pack.  There were a lot of secret little pacts between those guys back then, teamwork focused on the common goals of cigarettes, weed, and frivolity.  They had a pretty good thing going.  However, this was a bit of a break in the normal alliance.  Bob had secured cigarettes and was lording the cigarettes over Leo, drunk with the power.  “Look at this Leo.  You see this?  These are MY CIGARETTES!”  Bobby held the box between his hand, held aloft for emphasis.  “Take a long look…. These are ALL MINE.  MY CIGARETTES!”  He was inflated by his good fortune over his lowly friend sprawled on the van’s bench seat.

 

We were in Virginia in the middle of nowhere.  The summer was warm and the windows were down.  It was that time of year when the air smells sweet.  I was driving, Bob sitting shotgun.  I asked Bob if I could see the pack of cigarettes.  Bob handed them to me, and I nonchalantly tossed them out the window without a word.  They were gone.  There was a brief pause.  I didn’t say a thing.  The Chief burst open with laughter.  “OMG!  He threw them out the window.  HAHAHAHAHA!”  Bobby was stunned.  He couldn’t believe it had happened.  It was all gone.  His power.  His leverage.  His cigarettes.

 

I don’t want to downplay how pissed Bob was.  This was $5 I just tossed out the window, and he was a cheap little fucker back then.  I explained to him that I would replace the cigarettes later, but he had gone too far.  He had been consumed by “The Sin of Pride”.  After a discussion in the van, it was agreed that “The Sin of Pride” was a punishable offense.  Bob had been consumed by the object and had used it to elevate himself above the others.  Like a Biblical Thunderbolt, justice had been served.  If you ask Bobby about it today, he will readily admit he deserved what had happened.

 

It is not lost on me that I made myself Judge, Jury, and Executioner in these scenarios.  Have I become corrupted by my own power?  Yes.  Yet, I believe that this nuclear threat of complete devastation has helped maintain a sense of civility over the years.  Have there been other incidents in the past?  Regrettably, yes.  The Easter Basket tossed from the van on I-90 east of Toledo comes to mind.  Again, I did not want to do it, but I owed it to Leo.  The cartwheeling basket exploding candy, plastic straw and small cottonball bunny decorations flying across the highway was terribly sad to see, but Leo admitted that the punishment was just.  That Easter Basket was more than a collection of candy.  It had become a weapon used to become a False God within the confines of the van.

 

If you will note in the photo of Sugar at the top of this post, there is a mixture of sadness, bitterness and and regret on Sugar’s face.  She is struggling to come to grips with the sudden turn of events.  There is not an overflowing anger at the tuna sandwich being on the roof below.  Does she have negative feelings about the action I have taken?  Of course.  That is evident in the eyes and the downturned brow.  She had spent the previous evening proclaiming about how only SHE had a snack for tomorrow, and NONE of us had the good fortune of being in possession of such splendor.  Oh, how she waxed on in the van ride over to the hotel…. She had a sandwich while the rest of us had NOTHING!  This sandwich had corrupted her.  Now, look more closely at the photo.  You can see in Sugar’s expression the fact that she had, without question, indulged herself in “The Sin of Pride”.  She had earned this swift justice, and there was no point in arguing the issue.  The only one to blame was herself.  She knows this.  You can see this realization in her expression.  This photo, taken at the exact moment she recognized it was her beloved sandwich perched on the roof, captures the horrible toll of “The Sin of Pride”.  After this purge, this cleansing, she could now begin anew. 

 

This moral inflexibility is part of the reason why we maintain our position as one of America’s favorite entertainers.  There was also a functional rationale lest you think Dear Reader that we are heartless beasts.  It should be noted we didn’t have a refrigerator in the hotel room.  This was also an act of mercy.  Sugar, left to her own devices, would have gotten sick like an animal if allowed to eat that spoiled tunafish.  We also should have stopped her when she bought a 50% off gas station cottage cheese in Indiana years earlier, but that’s another hard earned lesson best told another day.  Regardless, by adhering to this strict moral code, we are able to keep ourselves on the rails.  It should also be noted that if we cross paths and you are going on about some small creature comfort, and you are noting how it is ALL YOURS and NO ONE else can have it, there is also a decent chance I might ask “Can I see that?”.  There is also a pretty good chance I am about to throw that item out the window.  It’s not something I will relish.  It’s that I owe it to you.   We must all be vigilant in our quest to stamp out "The Sin of Pride".