Recently, I took a trip to the great city of Cleveland, Ohio. Much like every other city in Ohio, Cleveland features the patented Ohio weather, constantly overcast. In the event that the sun actually manages to shine through the grey clouds, or even occupy most of the sky, there are still sporadic grey streaks in the sky. It’s lovely. I like it. Plus, in all of Ohio the tap water contains unidentifiable, small, white particles that my family and I simply refer to as "sea monkeys." I don’t think that they are actual sea monkeys, but that is totally irrelevant. In fact, so is this. Allow me to go on.

As I was saying, I took a trip to the great city of Cleveland, Ohio. Unfortunately, this trip was not taken in my 1990 Buick Lesabre, but rather via airplane. The airport has become a scary place to me. With all these random searches, and all this security hype. I mean, I personally have nothing to worry about because I don’t bring bombs on planes. However, it’s obnoxious to wait an extra hour in line. I was fortunate enough, however, to see a four-year-old get randomly searched. The official made this young man take off his shoes. When the four year old failed to comply, I thought the official was going to lose it. Eventually, his mother came over and untied his shoes and took them off. At this point, the mother had become a suspect, for the officials thought that maybe she had de-activated the bombs hidden in the four year old’s shoes. You know what could really be helpful to airport security? If only we all flew naked. The second we entered the airport we were commanded to remove our clothes and leave them in a clothing bin. If you were returning to that airport, you would get your clothes back upon arrival. If you were flying one way, then it might just benefit you to show up to the airport naked.

I’m sorry, I got off track again. As I was originally saying, I recently took a trip to the great city of Cleveland, Ohio. Sometimes, I like to appreciate Ohio. Not so much Ohio itself, but more so the concept of Ohio. It’s fresh there. It’s not often very collapsed. I’d say at least more often than not, now and again it has a good disposition. Wherever it was before, I’m sure it is better off now than later, or earlier. I strongly suggest that it should keep its socks, leather and garden hoses locked securely in their faithful, respective knee positions, without further haste or presentation required. They can take our noses off, but they can never remove our donuts sufficiently from the depths of our ingrown, collective psyche.

I’m sorry. I think I fell asleep while I was writing that last paragraph. But I don’t remember. Anyway, while I was in Cleveland, Ohio, I visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, or as I like to call it, Heaven. This place has some of the greatest stuff and things that I have ever seen. In fact, I managed to stay there for five straight hours. I attempted as hard as I could to out-rock the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but it out-rocked me. After my fifth straight hour, I wanted to retreat to my homeland. However, this does not mean that I did not enjoy this great museum.

Any place that has a variety of guitars owned by Pete Townshend, clothing belonging to David Bowie, concert posters from groups ranging from The Melvins to Pink Floyd, a two floor exhibit on John Lennon, and John Bonham’s drum set is automatically cool in my book. That’s right, John Bonham’s drum set is featured there. I would now like to explain why I, Gregory William Wood, am better than everyone else on the planet.

Yes, my friends, I have touched John Bonham’s drum set. I jumped over a rail, which had a sign posted on it reading "Do not touch the drum set," and proceeded to touch the ride symbol and one of the toms. It was quite the rush. I still cannot believe that I touched the drum set of the drummer from Led Zeppelin, John Bonham. Immediately, my drumming ability was enhanced. I don’t even play drums, but I can now play much, much better. You may ask why I risked getting kicked out of this museum simply to touch a drum set. But it’s like this: if you have the opportunity to meet Jesus Christ, are you simply going to stay at home and read the Bible? No, you’re going to go meet Jesus, or in my case, go touch Bonham’s drum set.

So, if any of you see me in the hallway, don’t bother talking to me. I won’t talk to you. I’m better than you. I have touched John Bonham’s drum set. I am superior. I rule.

P.S. If anyone else out there has touched John Bonham’s drum set, come find me, and we’ll start a club that is better than all other human beings on the planet. And if I offended anybody in this article, good. You deserved it. I’m better than you.