First Day Jitters, Part 3

Trust me; I'm going to bring the longest saga in written history, of one stinking headache, to a conclusion. Soon. Very soon. 

 

But only 9 days removed from the distasteful ending at Apple FM and less-than-warm feelings I still carried for clueless assistant PD Don Ryan (see “Behind the Scenes: blogpost 4.19.11) I was starting to have doubts about my new beginning in Sandpoint . I wondered about John. Seemingly hung out to dry- again- I wondered if I was working for another lackadaisical program director who couldn’t keep his wits about him. And with a sledge hammer still pounding inside my skull I started to wonder and worry whether I’d made a mistake moving to Sandpoint, taking the job at KPND and throwing away the one I had at Apple-FM, Don Ryan be damned.

Fortunately, I was too sick to storm off in a huff and leave the KPND transmitter unattended too, and before I could contemplate suicide John called back. “Your worries are over, my friend. Just hang in there another couple of songs because I’ve got someone coming in.”  And ten minutes later, KSPT midday guy and sports director, big, burly and bearded Marshall Moss showed up and became my best-est new friend. I could’ve kissed him. But even in my diminished reasoning capacities knew that wouldn’t be a good way to introduce myself.  Instead, after lining up enough music to get Marshall through the first set, I just shook his hand, thanked him best I could- considering I was almost delirious- and got the hell out of there.

Once outside and free, I really wished I'd driven the car to work. It was hot, the glare of the sun was hard on my eyes and I was too sick to roller skate. So I stashed the skates untagged in a cubbie in the control room (if anyone wanted to rim ‘em off, by then I didn’t care) and walked home as fast as possible. Nauseated and woozy, I kept my head down to avoid the sunlight and probably looked like an intoxicated escapee. Nobody bothered me though, and after what seemed like a ten mile hike in full gear, but was probably only a few minutes, my front door was finally insight

Home at last, I rushed to the kitchen and quickly made a PB & J sandwich. Practically inhaling it, I slugged down a can of Coke behind it, then stood there waiting. And waiting. Hoping for even a whiff of relief. But none came. The head pain persisted over a rising tide of nausea until 15 minutes later, when everything came back up. The heaves went on for some time, too, which was quite unexpected considering, except for the sandwich I hadn't eaten anything for about 24 hours. When it finally seemed to subside, I lifted my head from over the porcelain bowl, hoping and praying the worst was over, and didn't move again until certain the need to barf had passed. Then I walked deliberately into the bedroom, closed the blinds (because it was still broad daylight), and slung myself on the bed.

With eyes shut, I remained still in the quiet, clammy house and silently thanked God I'd finally made it through the day. Before letting myself completely rest, though, I got back up and cracked the window open. Somewhere outside, sounds of cars going by, dogs barking in the distance and kids playing wafted in. Lying back down in the still stuffy room, I thought I was going to cry. I didn't, though, way too spent to do anything but breathe. But the day had gone so poorly and I felt so poorly, I was beginning to worry whether I'd made a poor career decision. Maybe I’d made a mistake by leaving Apple FM in an angry and counter-productive way. Maybe? Of course I had. But I couldn’t go back now. I’d blown it and as thunder rumbled in the distance, I ached to be home again and among people that cared about me in Spokane.  Dumb as it sounds now, I think I needed a hug. But then I drifted off. Two hours later, I woke up.

Slowly forcing my eyes to open- because I wasn't sure if they wanted to comply yet- I glanced at my watch. 7:40 p.m. I sat up on the side of the bed then stood up gingerly. When feeling awake and more stable, I walked upright again out to the kitchen. The headache was gone and queasiness crisis, like the storm, had finally passed, too. I'd lived through the migraine and slept through the thundershower. Outside, the air had cooled. And the refreshing breeze floating through the open window had knocked the temperature down in the house, too. The world smelled washed and refreshed. I felt refreshed too.

The fading afternoon sun flickered in, casting mini-spotlights on the floor and refrigerator. The rest of the kitchen was in shadow, but the light didn’t bother me anymore and I was hungry. So I made some soup, opened up a bag of Frito's and cracked open another cold Coke. When I turned on the TV, a rerun of “M.A.S.H.” was on. Keeping food down was a major plus and, losing myself in 'Hawkeye' and 'Trapper's' zaniness, was also able to begin shaking off what a rotten day it’d been.

I felt bad for thinking ill of John, though, too; even if it was only briefly. Having to juggle the hours and workload of two full staffs, plus pull a 4-hour air shift himself, he’d simply made a scheduling mistake. Stuff happens. He was clearly no Don Ryan. He’d given me this opportunity. I owed him the benefit of the doubt and now that I was feeling better again, gave it to him fully. Rock-solid, John’s still one of the good guys in radio and was always real good to me. At least until two months later, when he transferred me  to early morning duty on the AM station and put me under KSPT program director Dave Wessell, who proved not be one of my favorite people because he ended up firing me 8 months later. But that’s another story….

It was the evening of August 1, 1983 and my first day in Sandpoint was drawing to a close. And as the darkening sky of twilight descended outside, and with the TV providing the only indoor light, at last I was feeling better. That day’s migraine wasn’t my first, nor was it even the worst. It wasn't the last either. But it came at the absolute worst time. It ruined any chance of making a great first impression with my new co-workers, or score big points with the KPND audience. To say my time on the air that day “sucked” would be charitable.  But I had a crack at a second chance. And after a good night’s sleep and trying something bold in the morning- like eating - I’d have a second opportunity to show everyone at KSPT/KPND-FM that I was up to the challenge of joining their team. 

However, that second impression better damn well be better than the first.