YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 11

Boston, MA Part II

September 23, 1991

The car ride of LAX was incredibly suspenseful. I could feel tiny inklings of regret crawling into the pores of my skin as we drove to our gate. A few times I found myself with my voice on the tip of my tongue, ready to announce that I was cancelling the tour, that I had made a mistake, and that we should all just go home and wait for a better offer. But, in reality, there was no better offer, and I couldn't really cancel on a whim. I would have to stick it out. And besides, Kurt and I hadn't spoken in years. Perhaps all feelings of bitterness, or at least some, would have been left behind in 1989 in that parking lot.

We parked and quickly unloaded in a timely fashion and went to check in to our flight. Within a half an hour, we were checked in, had gone through TSA security, and were sitting in the waiting area for our flight to the Boston Logan International Airport. I became lost in my thoughts once again. "You can have all the time in the world," he had told me. I regretted telling him what I told him-- that I wanted to wait, and I needed to see what I really wanted. Who the fuck was I kidding? I wanted Kurt, all of Kurt, and nothing but Kurt.

"Attention passengers, this is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to Boston. We are now beginning regular boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you," a lady announced on the intercom. "Well, this is it, darlings," Freddie beamed, and we all stood up with our carry-on suitcases and backpacks. We had checked in our multitude of amps back at security, so they would be traveling in the lower section of the plane. "Yes, sir. Family Drama is going on tour," Greg replied, placing his left hand on my shoulder, and I immediately tensed up. He had been getting gradually more handsy as time persisted, and I was beginning to wonder if Greg's crush from high school had never fizzled out.

"Alright, y'all, let's go," I rushed the scene, grabbing a hold of my bags and speed walking over to the podium where the airline checked our tickets and IDs. I was ushered down the hallway and into the plane, and the seat that matched the number on my ticket was right next to a mother and her screaming toddler. I wanted to fucking scream. Just my luck. I absolutely despised kids, especially those who screamed and cried for no reason. And don't get me started on the mothers who just let their kids scream and don't do jack shit to shut them up.

The flight was nearly six hours, and I wanted to blow my brains out. (A/N: too soon? Lol I'll stop.) The kid had screamed straight into my ear for three hours straight, but halfway through, Greg began to play with the kid and the plane was a thousand decibels quieter. He was so good with kids. I could never understand it. I never developed the maternal instinct that many other women do. It just wasn't in my DNA. I could never imagine being a mother.

When the flight landed, we all headed immediately to the baggage area to wait for our amps, instruments and suitcases. We rented a UHaul ahead of time, so Kevin took a cab to the rental place while we waited. He came back right on time, and it took a five person effortI claimed one of the largest amps and squatted down to lift it to the back of the UHaul, and almost instantaneously, Greg was coming to my "rescue" to get it off my hands. "I can do that, E, don't worry," he reassured me, but I kept a firm grip on the amp.

"Nah, I'm able to lift this myself, thanks though," I kindly refused his offer, and proceeded to carry the amp.

"Alright then," Greg muttered under his breath, and I fought the urge to guffaw at what was happening. I had damaged his ego.

"No, Greg, I'm sorry," I said between breaths, "I didn't mean--"

"No, I totally get it, Erin," Greg said in a low voice. "You're a strong, independent woman and don't need a man to lift heavy amps for you." On the outside, I simply nodded, but internally I was screeching, "That's right, motherfucker!" at the top of my lungs. I squatted down to grip the amp from the bottom before lifting it with ease into the truck. I swiveled back around on the balls of my feet to grab the rest of our equipment.