Wyme was a wonderful friend. He kept me going through some tough shit.
In Richmond, Wyme, a few other people, and I, used to go busking together all the time. On one particular ocassion, we were riding the free bus back from Shockoe Bottom when this old person asked me to play a tune on banjo. Well, next thing you know, Wyme and I, as drunk as we were, we started to get all rowdy with the music. We were screaming out all these old-time songs, and we got EVERYBODY on the bus pounding on the back of their seats, yelling along with us. We even got people from the street to get on the bus to watch. It was a fucking punk show on the free bus. A true testament to Wyme's character: He couldn't play a damn radio, but he could get anyone to have a good time.