It all began on a Tuesday …or a Thursday…or a Sunday…depending on which one of the Boys you’re talking to and whether or not they have had their medication yet for the day…but that’s not really all that important. Whatever day it was…it was overcast and cool…then again Nick swears it was sunny and 80…then AJ…alright…let’s just forget trying to nail down the minor details.
With stomachs full of chopped turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots overcooked into mush and prune pudding, the five elderly men sat playing a game of cards. For the most part, their conversations were random and they often switched gears without any real point but, honestly, that was far from abnormal. No subject was really talked about for any longer than a few minutes, however this would soon change.
“Have you heard the crap these kids play on the radio now?” Kevin Richardson’s voice had become deeper with age and had also developed a slight shakiness over the years but it never lost that tone of authority. “I just don’t see how they can even call it music.”
“It’s garbage. That’s what it is.” Brian’s head popped up quick enough to make the sad looking toupee flip backwards, exposing his completely bald head. Adjusting his oxygen which he used often and always kept handy, then his toupee, he continued, “there is absolutely no musical talent in it anymore. It’s sad really.”
“This may come as a shock…but I agree.” AJ piped up. “I can’t even listen to this new stuff and…I have listened to a lot of…uh…stuff…” A thick, no doubt expensive, Cuban cigar hung from his lips as he squinted to see his cards, his much needed glasses lying forgotten on the table. He really did despise the thought of being old and did his best to avoid things that reminded him of his age…like those glasses.
“Huh?” Looking around at the others, Nick cupped a hand over his ear, having completely missed the conversation. This didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone, though, and the other men just rolled their eyes.
“Turn your hearing aid on, Frack!” Leaning over, Brian was yelling straight into his best friend’s ear, not that it did much good. “And put on your glasses AJ. You’re as blind as a dead raccoon on a winter day.”
“That don’t even make sense, Brian.” Howie shook his head laying down his hand that would have likely been the winning hand if they were playing poker, rather than go fish. But truthefully speaking, none of the men’s memories were very good anymore and they were often all on totally different wave lengths.
“At least we had taste…and talent…when we sang. We never sang anything as bad as what they sing now.” Kevin leaned back, tilting his head as he watched the other men. It was a good day for Kevin, his Alzheimer’s wasn’t acting up too bad, so he was actually able to keep up with the conversation, instead of being off in his own world.
“What? What did you say?” Nick waved a hand then threw a card down on the table with a cheesy grin. “Uno suckas!”
“I thought we were playing Old Maid?” Brian wrinkled his brows, confused as he reached over, finally just flipping on Nick’s hearing aid himself, since obviously Nick wasn’t ever going to do it. “And we were talking about today’s crappy music, Nick. Geesh.”
“Hey. We still have talent! It’s not like we are washed up has beens or anything. We just needed a break from the business…to have some time to breathe…and relax.” If you asked AJ, the group could still sell out entire arenas within minutes and set world records in album sales. In their own ways, all five of the guys were still stuck in the past, unwilling to admit that they should probably be working on a bucket list. But AJ…AJ was convinced he was just as much of a sexy stud as he was in his 20’s. Hitting on women and using ancient pick-up lines was something he was known for in the nursing home and he even threw out a hip last month while attempting his old favorite…the pelvic thrust.
“Exactly! Retired my ass!” Nick was really getting into the idea now. “It would be great to get back out on the road…show these young punks what real music sounds like.”
“Think they got any more of that prune pudding? I’ve been a bit irregular lately.” Howie looked up, shifting in his seat as his mind began to wander off the topic. “Maybe that nice new cook will put a dab of whipped cream on top, for me?”
“That’s nasty, D.” AJ crinkled his nose, giving Howie the strangest of looks as he pretended to gag. “…and way more than I needed to know about your shit.”
“We could always bust outta here.” The cobwebs in Nick’s head were busting loose as his brain began to run wild, devising a plan that may go down in Backstreet history as the craziest plan…EVER. “Yeah…yeah…we could get back in the studio…put out another album…and go on tour again!”
“Someone should put good music back on the radio…”
“…and who better to do it…than us?!” Brian finished Kevin’s thought. Surely there would be some resistance out there, but they could do this. It’s not like they were…old…or anything. The saying goes “mind over matter” but the Backstreet Boys would reword that to “mind over body”. In their minds, this was a simple concept…get out there and make some good music…it was something they had done countless times…no amount of aches and pains or false teeth would stand in their way now.
“Let’s do this!” Howie stood up, as if he was going to just walk straight out of the nursing home with no questions asked. “It’s gonna be great!”
“Grandpa D!” The five men looked in the direction of the voice to spot Ella. “You better sit right back down in that motor scooter before mama sees you.” Ella was the daughter of Lillian…who was the wife of James…who was the son of Howie. You see…this family owned nursing home wasn’t owned by just any family.
“That’s right…you tell him, Miss Ella.” With a wiggle of his brows, AJ gave her his very best ‘sexy’ grin and squashed out his cigar as she made Howie sit down.
“It’s bed time gentlemen. And that means you too, Mr. Hot Lips.” She gave AJ a look, quite used to his antics, as she grabbed the handles of Kevin’s wheel chair and began pulling him away from the table. “You may continue your game after breakfast, in the morning.”
“Don’t you be hittin’ on my grand baby, you old coot!” Howie was now staring AJ down like a hawk and pointing his finger right into the other man’s face. Now it should go without saying that this wasn’t going to end with a handshake and invitation for tea.
“Oh brother. Here we go.” Kevin let out a deep sigh and shook his head, realizing that some things never change.
“Don’t point that arthritic finger at me, you old geezer! You know damn well I can still take your ass down!” Lifting his cane and poking Howie’s shoulder with it, AJ did nothing but make the situation worse…like that’s a surprise.
“I’m not an old geezer and even if I were...it’d be better than...walkin around lookin like the ghetto chewed me up and spit me out. Just look at them wrinkled up tattoos!” Plucking a streamer from one of his handles, he started shaking it in AJ’s face as if it would cause some sort of damage.
“Altight…that’s enough…” Ella sighed as she was completely ignored, the pointless argument continuing on between the men.
“Quit shakin your pom pom at me…I’m not Ricky Martin, ya jack ass.”
“Jack a…why I aughta…”
“ENOUGH!” Stepping between the men, Ella pointed her finger down the hallway that led to their rooms. “It’s bed time. If you two remember what you were fighting about when you wake up in the morning, you can continue it then.”
Now, if you ever thought seeing five elderly men head down a hallway, to bed, was nothing special…you obviously are not too familiar with THESE five men.
Nick’s cane was studded with precious gems in the Bucs team colors and was completed with a small Bucs flag waving on the top, while AJ’s cane was a bright shade of pink. Not only was it a bright pink but it was covered in black rhinestone skulls and had a rearview mirror.
Then there was Brian’s wheel chair…fully decked out with spinner rims that Nick had gotten for him, fuzzy dice on the handles and battery operated turn signals. As if that wasn’t enough, it was all brought together with a ‘honk if you love Jesus’ bumper sticker on the back of his seat.
Howie’s motor scooter…aside from the security system and anti-lock brakes, which he insisted upon….had an elaborate paint job of purple flames and silver winking smiley faces. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, but the man also had a wicker basket and streamers on it.
Out of all the guys, Kevin’s walker was the most subtle…if you don’t count the custom horn the others had mounted, to the front, a few Christmases ago. Every time he pressed the horn...everyone within a half mile could hear the opening notes of “Larger than life”. And he never failed to honk at least a dozen times a day.
They all went to bed cooperatively that night, with the exception of a couple last minute glares. The seed had been planted in their brains and this would only mark the beginning of the Backstreet’s great escape.
