Subj: “Fishing For Sympathy” #22 Date: 94-08-12 01:16:03 EDT From: L7s

“Fishing For Sympathy” #22 (July 27-Montreal)

This is the day I hurt my foot. I do not have a good recollection of all today’s events (nothing like selective memory to get you safely through life),

So to do this entry, I asked Rod Doak to describe what happened from his point of view…..

The grounds we played today were the site of the 1967 World’s Fair. The stage was set in a large field surrounded by trees with a series of connecting ponds and lakes. It is very scenic and relaxing, but even more important, it is the best fishing we have encountered so far on the tour. Dav Rat and I took advantage of the situation right after L7’s set. Unfortunately, this was also the day I remembered to bring my walkie-talkie. Just as I was baiting for the largest wide-mouth bass of my fishing career, the walkie-talkie squawked to life. It was one of the Beastie Boys’ crew who informed me that Jennifer had fallen and couldn’t get up.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or keep fishing, so I did both. At Jennifer’s insistence, I fished my back towards the accident site. Upon arriving, I discovered it was no joke. She was surrounded by Red Cross volunteers reading from page fifteen of their emergency manual, desperately trying to decide if they had a break or a sprain on their hands. After a bit of prodding, we decided it was just a twist (it will be up to her to tell you how she did it). Cool, I thought, stick her in the emergency tent with an ice pack, she’ll be fine, and I can get back to fishing. On returning to the fishing spot, I discovered my partner, Dav Rat, had reeled in MY three-pound big mouth bass. What the hell, I thought, it is a beautiful day and there are plenty more where that came from. On my first cast, I felt a couple of good strikes and was waiting for the third and final strike, when the walkie-talkie started screaming and hissing. (damn, I forgot to leave the thing back in civilization!). This time, it was a message from the hospital tent. I heard words of torn ligaments, broken bones, and ambulances. Tossing my pole down, I headed for the tent. Upon my arrival, Jen was lying on a stretcher with friends, band members, and crew standing around her like it was a deathbed. Little did I know all these people had gathered because they heard a rumor she may be prescribed painkillers (LOL). It would seem that the previous diagnosis was under some question, and the injury was now being treated as a possible break.

The Red Cross volunteers, under the guidance of their trusty medical emergency book, had fashioned a splint out of beer cartons and torn bed sheets. I was informed that she should be taken to the hospital for examination. I rode with her in the ambulance. As we drove, one of the medics pointed out some of Montreal’s tourist attractions. He gave us a history of the fairgrounds, pointed out the local amusement park, and named the bridge we went over. Thanks for the history lesson and sympathy. Then our tour guide led us to the emergency drop-off area, where we spent the rest of the day. We got back to the venue just before dusk. I propped Jennifer and her new crutches in the dressing room where she could get ooohed and aaahed over while I slipped out the back door with a fishing pool in hand. I made sure to leave the walkie-talki

BEHIND!

Story told by Rod Doak. Sympathy in here big time. Typed by J. Finch (that should explain typos, spelling errors, and poor grammar)