24. Puppet Strings

O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest.
——A Midsummer Night's Dream, III.ii

O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'?
I am worse than e'er I was. ...
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.'
——King Lear, IV.i

Sarah and I were getting pretty tight with Holly. We'd hardly seen the other band members since Friday night, but we were having fun getting acquainted and helping her care for the baby. We had grown to respect Holly's musicianship and integrity, to say nothing of her grace and patience: this was the third time she'd traveled somewhere with Q. Each time he'd promised her that things would go better, only to renege.

The three of us had something else in common, and we didn't realize it yet: We were the only group members standing up to Q. The others, although no less disgruntled than we, kept their heads down and didn't make waves. And now we, the problem children, were split off from the group and on our own. Give Q. some credit: Marginalizing us was a shrewd strategy — possibly the only intelligent move he made on the whole trip.

At the moment, however, we didn't feel marginalized. We felt victorious as we climbed back into Michalis' car. The plan, as I understood it, was for Q. to send the rest of the band after us to Cosmovision Center. We'd play the first slot in the "closing night celebration" there. Then Michalis had arranged for a van and driver to take us from Koropi to Piraeus, a 13-mile trip, in time for the next gig.

Cosmovision turned out to be a sort of conference center/sports complex. A huge outdoor stage awaited us, with a professional sound system like the one we'd used at the showcase gig. There were some dormitory buildings, a soccer field, and an air-conditioned meeting hall/common room where we plopped into some comfy chairs, had something cool to drink, and had a chat with George, Michalis' colleague. I think George had been curious to see just what sort of people hung out with Q., and was a little surprised to learn that we had neither horns nor tails.

"I've never met this Q.," said George, "but he must be an interesting guy." Ah, the all-purpose euphemism: "interesting." It's the wrong word, of course. By this time I couldn't have been less interested in anything Q. did. We reassured George that we were also unhappy with Q., which was about all we could do for him. Still, it felt good to have another ally.

George's cell phone rang, and as far as I know he spent the rest of the afternoon talking on it. Michalis seemed to be making or taking a lot of calls, too. More people started to trickle in — including, once again, Russ Rosen and his band, along with his wife, Sandy, and her Raw Motion dance team. Floks, the most prominent if not the only CCM band in Greece, also arrived. I kept waiting for the rest of Loudmouth to show up; Cosmovision was a very nice facility and I felt guilty that we were the only ones there to enjoy it. Sarah and Sandy talked for a while; I went outside and attempted to play soccer for a few minutes; I don't know what Holly was doing. I can account for the way I spend time, but not for the way I kill it. The final few Olympic events were playing on the big-screen TV, and a crowd slowly gathered around it to watch. It was our last chance.

Today's Pearl of Wisdom: At some point Michalis finished his phone calls and gathered us for an announcement. Ready for this? His signature on a piece of paper notwithstanding, Q. had changed his mind. He would not send the rest of the band out to Cosmovision. Not only that, he wouldn't even allow me and Holly to play our set, because he, Q., owned the rights to the name Loudmouth Worshippers. We were to leave and rejoin the band down in Piraeus. Or so he had just finished telling Michalis.

So this was how Q. treated people who tried to hold him accountable for his promises. Mere puppet strings weren't good enough for him; he wanted us to be remote-control puppets. I think I said earlier that my opinion of him had already hit bottom. Well, guess what? Sometimes there's another bottom below the first one. Even Holly — who until this point had complied with Q.'s every instruction, no matter how ridiculous or unfair — seemed to be wavering on whether or not to play. I think it was Michalis who proposed the simple-but-brilliant solution: We just wouldn't use the name Loudmouth Worshippers. We'd go on as Holly and Martin, play worship songs as we'd done the night before, and then leave for Piraeus.

And that, dear reader, is what we did. The audience — more mission and outreach workers, gathering to celebrate at the end of their trips — were still coming in as we started. Russ Rosen's drummer and bassist joined us, and we had a rockin' little quartet. The drummer even complied with my request to keep it simple and let me handle fills on the mandolin. Afterward we thanked everyone and jumped in the van.

Piraeus, our next destination, is not just the southern terminus of the Athens Metro; it's a port on the Aegean Sea that has been closely tied to the Athens economy since ancient times. During the Golden Age of Greece, not only were Athens and Piraeus both walled cities, there were also walls around the road connecting them, to help protect goods moving from the port to the capital. Piraeus is worth the trip if you want to visit, but here's a bit of advice: Don't try to drive there from Koropi during the closing ceremony of the Olympic Games.

I've forgotten the name of our driver, but he was a patient fellow. I was shocked to learn later that this was only a 13-mile journey (although that's as the crow flies, since crows are smart enough not to use the Greek highway system). It took forever. And whereas I began the trip on a bit of an emotional high (from the satisfaction of a good performance, fellowship with other believers, and the slightly illicit thrill of having defied Q.'s orders), my energy slowly ebbed away as the van inched through the nightmare traffic and a tired Logan wailed out his dissatisfaction. By the time we got to Piraeus, ten days' worth of sleep deprivation had finally done their dread work. I was more bone-achingly, mind-numbingly exhausted than I'd been at any other time on the trip. And it took a couple of cell-phone calls and another half hour of driving around before we finally found the spot where the band was setting up to play. I gathered my strength, collected my instruments and stands from the van, and carried them to the stage.

Then I heard Ken call my name.