I'd have to say this show above all others stands out in my mind 
as the moment I felt officially Gaged.    I had been preforming 
in the group since October of 96 (96 Tears), but this was the bonding 
moment.  It was the most insane show ever!  First off, we were flown 
down to Quincy in a little six seater for this show.  I felt like a 
real pro or something... even if Eric did look like he might puke on 
me at any minute.  

We got to Quincy & loaded up the big van that was waiting for us 
at the airport.  We arrived to an extremely nice home with a wonderful 
hostess (and a slightly less socially adapted host).  Guests began 
to arrive in formal attire for dinner as we went to town.  At dinner 
we decided we'd better clean up some of our acts.  It looked like 
this was a very classy crowd and we didn't want to offend or upset 
anyone with our crass & vulgar sketches.  It seems to me we even 
decided to remove a couple just to be safe.  

When we returned that classy political fund-raising function had 
become a drunken frat party.  I have never seen anything so strange!  
We barely got through the first act before we gave up on their 
drunken attention spans and switched to an all music show.  Which 
was fine by me because I didn't sing any songs, so I spent a couple 
of hours catching up with the guests.  

As we prepared to leave, we noticed that our gracious hostess was 
no where to be seen.  While at the bar Kris & discovered our host, 
falling over himself, on the phone with what seemed to be the hostess 
arguing.  He was convinced that if she did not return home tonight, 
the marriage was over.  We wondered if this was a good time to ask 
for our money...

As it turns out, be paid us a nice bonus and then turned out the 
front porch lights... I'm guessing the hostess was not coming home.  
As we backed into the basketball hoop pole, I remember thinking... 
"Get the hell out of here before anything else goes wrong!"  
In fact - I think that's what Dale said, and off we went to the 
hotel.  A little afraid that our rooms would not be paid for in 
the morning, we spent the night giggling & having fun.  As you 
all know, the three girls (Mary Ann, Kris & I) had the usual 
naked pillow fight and then we were interrupted by boys, knocking 
on the door our see what we were doing.  Like they didn't know.  
Don't they watch Cimemax?

The trip home was better... knowing we'd survived & no one knew 
about the dent in the bumper or the slightly crooked basketball 
pole.  Getting some hard cash was great too... but bonding with 
the rest of the group is what really made this show THE show for me!

Mo Gannon (Gag 1996 - 2000)

*****************************

 Here's what I remember about Quincy:

 1. I'm the one who drove into the basketball pole.
 
 2. When we left the party to get dinner after setting up, 
 we drove  into town  to a Burger King. Whatever I ordered, 
 I asked them to Supersize it. The woman behind the counter 
 looked at me like I was speaking Farsi.
     "What?" she said.
     "Can I get that Supersized?" I asked.
     "Supersized?" she replied.
     "Yeah. You know, UP-SIZE? SUPERSIZE??"
     "We don't Supersize here," she growled. "We KING size."
 Okay, bitch. Sorry I'm not up on your counter lingo. Jeez.
 
 3. I didn't see Jack Klugman ONCE.
 
 4. The drunken crowd was in no mood to put their wife-swapping 
 on hold and  stem the tide of a year's worth up pent-up 
 repression to listen to sketch comedy, especially intelligent 
 sketch comedy that required their attention. But I'll tell 
 you this: probably my single most satisfying moment as a
 performer was doing "Sequester Me" for this crowd. They 
 were already gone. They had long since stopped paying 
 attention. But by the end of this song, they were with me. 
 Maybe there were a lot of lawyers. I don't know -- maybe
 they were judges or jurors. But by the end of that song they 
 were listening to every word and laughing at most of them. I 
 think that's when we decided to just do music for the second 
 half. And I think this was before we had ever done a lot of 
 music outside of encores.
 
 5. Gary Puckett came with us to run tech :-)  It wouldn't have 
 been the same trip without him.
 
 7. During the "second act," I did an extended "Blow Me" with 
 some different chords and just singing "Blow me blow me blow 
 me blow me" over and over. I was right by Puckett at the sound 
 board. I think we were both looking at each other thinking how 
 surreal this was.
 
 8. Mary Ann told us after we landed back home in Sugar Grove 
 that she was moving and had to leave the group :-(
 
 9. Quincy's hoi poloi vomiting and urinating in the bushes.
 
 10. Was there a naked swim down at that pool? I wasn't invited, but 
 I think  Steve was.
 
 11. All of this was totally unexpected. The guy CHARTERED A 
 PLANE FOR US and faxed me a floor plan of the room where 
 we'd be performing, etc ... We thought it was going to be 
 a class deal. Fooled again. 
 
 12. Eric freaked every time we made some joke about the plane 
 going down.
 
 13. One of the best and most interestingly bizarre 
 times of my life.
 
 -  Dale
 
 *****************
 
 Okay. Before I begin the huge task of summarizing my view
 of the Quincy gig, let me explain about the plane. I was
 not the only person freaking out about the plane. The only
 person who was truly comfortable was Mary Ann. Steve was 
 terrified and wouldn't shut up! He kept saying things like,
 "If we start going down, I'm going for Kris." Finally,
 as we flew 10 thousdand feet above Illinois, he made another
 comment and I yelled, "shut up." When Steve continued, Dale
 chimed in with "Steve, you don't get it do you. Shut up."
 Everybody, while maintaining the constant Gag tradition of
 ribbing each other, was very nice and understood. See,
 prior to this my last flight had been in 1983. My family
 and I were on our way back from Norway when our engine
 caught fire over the Atlantic. We then had a 12 hour
 layover in Forbisher Bay, Canada (which doesn't exist anymore, 
 it has returned to its Indian name) way up on Baffin Island. 
 (Check a map.) When we finally were airborn again we hit
 4 hours of horrific turbulence and nobody could get out
 of their seats and I had to pee!!! I think after an
 experience like that, I handled Quincy fine. 
 
 The trip started when Steve picked me up at my apartment.
 Millie (who was not in the group yet) had moved in not long
 before and this was going to be my first night away. I could
 see she was concerned. Right off the bat Steve starts in 
 on his "if we go down" bits. I remember standing outside the
 airport having a smoke as the plane taxied up. My first thought
 was, quite literally "You have to be fucking kidding me." I
 then thought of Buddy Holly. We had brought everything. The 
 lights, the portable blacks and pvc pipe for the makeshift
 stage, the sound board, mics, cables, Steve and Kris' billion
 costume changes, all our overnight stuff, 2 guitars and 
 sound guy Gary Puckett. There were 7 of us and this thing 
 looked like a limo with wings. This wasn't happening.
 
 As I stood there, I'm sure looking pale and shakey, the pilot 
 came up. We talked for a few minutes after which time he looked 
 at the sky. Dark clouds were moving in.

   	  "Hope it doesn't rain. That's when I get nervous."
	  
As my testicles slurped into my abdomen he chuckled and 
patted me on the shoulder. As the rest of the group got
their stuff together he and I talked for a bit more
and told me that he flew this route several times every
day. He also told me that he had flown Charleton Heston
down there for the same people. Apparently Mr. Heston
was going to speak at a republican fundraiser. The thing
the pilot remembered most about Charlie was that at
some point he came around the plane in time to see Heston
do a "farmer's blow" onto the tarmac. (This is where 
you pinch off one nostril and blow whatever is in the
other out into the world without the use of a tissue.)
I have never been able to look at Heston the same since.

We found that all our stuff was going into the wings of
the plane. The wings bowed more and more as we crammed
our act into them. I really started to believe we were
going to die because of the costumes. (This has lead me 
to be a fierce advocate of LIGHT travel show packing.)

Anyway, we landed on a small strip of blacktop in 
the middle of a field and hung around in the airport
waiting for the van. As we loaded the van Steve and 
I started making plans to rent a car and drive home.
Sure, it would have taken the better part of a day
but neither of us enjoyed the flight much and since
we landed okay, we didn't want to push our luck.

The McNay house was huge. Freakin' huge! It was
still a few hours before the dinner started and the wait
staff and cooks were getting set up. To give you some idea
of scale. There were to be 8 tables of 10 people each in the
dining room. We would be performing between 2 huge pillars
using the library as a backstage. The McNays were nice enough.
Mrs. M was pretty easy on the eyes. You know the type; high
school pom squad captain now heading toward middle age and 
still hot. A MILF. Her husband, as Mo pointed out, was nice enough 
but had the social grace of a beer fart. We dropped off the gear
and set up the sound system then we were off to dinner. 

After dark, when we returned things began to get positively 
surreal. The set up was this, as Mrs. Mmmmm  had said;
after dinner they would hold a joke telling contest. Each table
would elect a joke teller. The McNay table would go last and
would then introduce us. As Mo said we had decided to curb some
of our language. After all these were small town conservatives
who probably wouldn't appreciate some of our more raw city
sketches. 45 minutes after we were supposed to start, we were
all still sitting in the library listening to John Lennon's 
Greatest Hits. (I think we fucked up the tape if I remember.) It
was about the time the jokes started. 

Each one got worse and worse. Filthier and filthier. We all stared
at each other in disbelief. So with renewed confidence in our
filth and each of us with a couple of drinks in us...mmmm rum and 
coke...we hit the stage. Everything was going really well 
for the first half of act one. We were dirty and they were loving
it. Then something happened that turned the whole thing nasty.

I happened.

As we neared the end of the first act I came out to play KIDS. An 
ode to the stupid things parents say. When I got to the line 
"do you want me to spank you here in front of all these people"
A voice came from the crowd.

"We don't do that here!!"

It was over. We couldn't get them back. During intermission I stood
in the driveway, smoking with Gary Puckett. Gary tried to comfort me
by telling me that if we were singing about farts we'd
hold their attention longer. As we spoke, numerous late middle
age republicans stumbled out the front door and urinated
on the lawn. Gary was right. Not enough fart jokes.

I remember singing in the second act, knowing that no one
was listening. Dale singing "blow me" pretty much at the crowd,
leaning against the sound board like Hendrix and laughing
as he insulted the audience. Cast members 
walking off stage and getting drinks during songs. The 
surreality got the best of us and we were sucked into the swirling
maelstrom of madness and excess…

In what seemed like moments the drunks were gone and we were 
left to clean up. Mr. McNay was pacing drunkenly talking into
the cordless phone alternating between "Where are you, you
c*nt!?" and sobbing "please come home." We all tried not
to stare as we loaded the van. Finally there was only us
and the head waiter left. We all loaded into the van as Steve
approached McNay, who stood in the door, looking like he'd been
fucked by a big valium dildo. 

The man's marriage had fallen apart, his mansion was trashed
and we were about to ask him for $800. We all watched as 
McNay counted the 800 in cash 1 - 2 - 3 . Then he tipped us $200 
which Steve nobley tried to refuse. We were all muttering
"get in the van. Get in the van!" Then Steve climbed in and
we attempted to leave but as you know Dale backed into the 
basketball pole. Hard. 

Time stood still and I realized that the only witnesses were 
us and the head waiter who was probably in his 60's. 'We could
take him' I thought. 'Get rid of the body'.  By the time
I had cleared my mind of murderous thoughts, we were back at 
the hotel.

Yeah we really did knock on the girl's door hoping for
an 80's movie topless pillow fight. Never happened.

I got to ride in the cockpit with the pilot on the way back
which was great. My fears were squelched by the ridiculous
belief that if something went wrong I could take over
and fly. It was bright and sunny when we landed and Dale 
gave each of us our hundred bucks.

The most surreal thing for me was that the whole experience
ended with me and Steve grocery shopping before he took me home.

There. That's the Quincy story.

- Eric

*************
Ok, so I figured it was my turn to weigh in on Quincy. 
Every Gag Reflex member at the time has to address 
Quincy, because it was the Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy 
Assassination, the Sept. 11, if you will, of Gag 
Reflex. All right, maybe Iım being too dramatic. 
Maybe the moonwalk. Whatever, nothing afterward 
would be the same.

 Let me address some of the other comments.
 
 1.  Yes, itıs true, I was freaking about the plane. 
 But I freak about every plane Iıve ever been on  - 
 727, L-1011, 747 - it doesnıt matter. Iıve always 
 been afraid to fly, and my way of dealing with it 
 is to talk about it, over and over. I have this 
 belief in a sort of karma that if I stay on edge, 
 half-accepting of the worst, the better. If I truly 
 relax and accept all those people saying, "it's safer 
 than driving," tragedy will truly happen. So, EXCUSE 
 ME if I was vocal. I probably saved us all.
 
 Iım amazed no one mentioned the letter. I actually 
 wrote this long letter to my wife and kids that 
 I mailed the day we left. I figured if I went down, 
 it would be my last statement of love and advice for 
 the rest of their lives, something they would keep 
 until it yellowed and rotted into dust. If I made 
 it, I would intercept the letter in the mail so 
 there would be no evidence of my intense paranoia 
 and neuroses, and they would never know the 
 difference. I did, and I did.
 
 2. If we really were going down, I had every 
 intention of grabbing Kris.
 
 3. There was no naked swim party at the giant 
 pool the McNasty's had, but I did not just grab 
 that idea out of thin air. As Mrs M. was showing 
 us around the house (dressed in a clingy, short 
 dress with open heels that wrapped around her tan, 
 bare legs), she made the suggestion, telling me that's
 "how many of these parties end up." Later, as 
 Maryanne and I stood on the Gatsby-like porch 
 with the Roman pillars, overlooking the empty 
 pool, I figured it was really too bad the party 
 had not gone more toward the naked swim soiree, 
 instead of the drunken frat kegger. It was about 
 that time that Mr. M came out of the bedroom door 
 onto the porch, staggered toward us, got to us 
 and started to speak, but, unable to talk because 
 of the booze, motioned several times with his hand, 
 and weaved on by toward the kitchen.
 
 4. Speaking of nudity, Mo, Maryanne and Kris were 
 NOT buffed out when they opened the door to their 
 room at the hotel. But for what seemed like an 
 eternity before they opened the door, we heard 
 movement, scurrying sounds, giggles and whispering, 
 words something like, "Shit. Hide the Cubans." OK, 
 they might have been cigars and not men (either way, 
 it spurs the imagination, eh?) but I'm positive 
 there was at least a naked pillow fight going on. 
 I mean, weıve all seen those Cinemax specials, eh?
 
 5. There was a guy there in green pants and a 
 pink sport coat with a toupee perched on 
 his head that looked sort of like those 
 salad-head people in Star Trek Voyager. I saw him 
 puking in the lawn later.
 
 6. FYI Eric: the last guy left with us and the only 
 witness to the basketball pole incident was the 
 bartender, not the head waiter.
 
 7. I was standing next to Dale, looking over at 
 him as he sang out like he was a member of Up With 
 People, "Blow me, blow me, blow me, blow me ..." 
 over and over. It is one of the enduring memories 
 I have of the night.
 
 8. The truth is, when the pilot locked the door of 
 that little plane just before takeoff, I was struck 
 less by my fear of flying and more by a neurosis I 
 have but donıt experience much: claustrophobia. I 
 wasn't sure I could make it cooped up in that little 
 fuselage for an hour. On the landing back at Aurora 
 Airport after the trip, we saw a small plane fly 
 below us. I thought he was close, but since no one 
 seemed too hepped about it, I figured it was nothing. 
 After we landed, the pilot told me that really 
 freaked him out and that was a big screw up by the 
 tower. We were in a near-miss. 
 
 9. I wouldnıt have missed the experience for anything.
 
 - Steve