sometimes, a memory will just flood into my head. i saw a drummer throw his sticks into the audience and this is the memory that resulted from it.
many years ago, in a fit of rockstar passion, i threw a pair of sticks into the audience.
over-hand.
hard.
drunk guy walks up to me as i'm packing up, giddy as a 16 year-old girl at a jonas brothers show.
he's got a welt on his forehead, about the size of a large walnut.
he's also got one of my sticks in his hand.
"dude! that was so RAD YOU HIT ME IN THE HEAD WITH YOUR STICK DUDE F*CKIN AWESOME CAN YOU SIGN MY HEAD?"
i kid you not. i could have taken the guy's eye out, and he just wanted me to sign the welt. i apologized profusely, counted my blessings and vowed to never do such a thing again.
i spent the next week praying to God that there would be no phone call from dewey, cheatham & howe, esq.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Friday, October 03, 2008
you talkin' shit bout mah boi?
in 2005, during the week of halloween, my band played at a club down in orange county. the club is about a thousand feet away from a ntz ntz club whose music is so loud even at that distance that it sounds like moby's right there next to you, screaming at you to be good to the animals.
the ntz ntz club is having a halloween party. 15 year-old girls are dressed in stuff that, were i their father, i would have never allowed on their persons. but that's just me, i suppose, as about 1,000 fathers in orange county seem to disagree with me on this evening.
i've backed the van into the closest space i could find and proceed to start breaking down my kit, when this drunk kid who is all of 21 or something walks up to me and asks if i wouldn't mind if he took a leak in the bushes that the van is parked next to. i tell him i don't care, do what you have to do. so he does.
he finishes up, walks up to kelly, extends his hand, and says, "hi, i'm john."
without missing a beat, kel looks at him and says, "dude - i'm not going to shake your hand after it's been on your dick."
embarrassed, and with girlfriend in tow, he says "oh ... sorry," and walks away.
oh, by the way - this kid is dressed in a radioactive man costume. his girl is pulling off the slutty nurse quite well, but as i've seen about 350 slutty nurses walk by in the past 9 minutes, the wow factor has completely worn off.
my gear is strewn about, as i'm packing everything up. radioactivedrunk decides to have another go at kel, so he returns, this time without nurse betty. he stumbles through my gear, staggers up to kel, and tries again to strike up a conversation.
for some reason, he's under the impression that vulgarities are a surefire way to get into a stranger's pants, so that's the route he takes. kel laughs it off, but after a while, my patience (and his common sense) has worn thin. so, very calmly, in a very quiet voice, i say something like the following:
"john, it's a very, very bad idea for you to keep talking to my fiance' in this manner, and it would be in your best interests to leave. now."
"but..."
"good night, john."
"tsk," and he walks away.
it's about 15 minutes later. i'm now facing away from the crowd as my singer and i are putting stuff in the back of the van.
"there he is!"
"hey, you been talking sh!t about my boy here?"
i turn around, and see that radioactive boy has now been joined by a 5'10", 350-pound batman. also drunk. extremely drunk. and the costume doesn't seem to fit quite right.
my singer and i look at each other, stifle a laugh, and i go to work diffusing this, er, situation. i mean, my going to jail for beating up two drunk superheros is not the kind of story i'd like my son to hear. not until he's 18 or so, anyway.
"why did you talk sh!t about my boy?"
while trying very hard not to laugh out loud, i explain to drunkfatbatman why i politely asked his sidekick to stop speaking to my fiance' as he was. after a few tries, always met with "why you talkin sh!t about my boy," it finally sinks in, i ask radioactive man to apologize, and he does. within 5 minutes, they're fans of the band.
in the meantime, nurse betty walks up to kel and asks, "what was my boyfriend saying? if he said anything rude to you, i'll kill him. i'm so sorry! i'm so embarrassed." she then walks up to me, takes radioactive man by the arm and plaintively asks me, "can we please go now?"
i'm a fairly big guy, and although i'm harmless, i've been told that i can come across as a tad bit intimidating. and it's obvious to both myself and my singer that nurse betty is scared. at this point, i can no longer control my laughter. my singer and i basically lose it in front of everyone.
call me a wuss for talking my way out of it, but i'm too old to fight. there's more to life than spending a night in lockup for beating up a comic book legend and a simpsons character.
the ntz ntz club is having a halloween party. 15 year-old girls are dressed in stuff that, were i their father, i would have never allowed on their persons. but that's just me, i suppose, as about 1,000 fathers in orange county seem to disagree with me on this evening.
i've backed the van into the closest space i could find and proceed to start breaking down my kit, when this drunk kid who is all of 21 or something walks up to me and asks if i wouldn't mind if he took a leak in the bushes that the van is parked next to. i tell him i don't care, do what you have to do. so he does.
he finishes up, walks up to kelly, extends his hand, and says, "hi, i'm john."
without missing a beat, kel looks at him and says, "dude - i'm not going to shake your hand after it's been on your dick."
embarrassed, and with girlfriend in tow, he says "oh ... sorry," and walks away.
oh, by the way - this kid is dressed in a radioactive man costume. his girl is pulling off the slutty nurse quite well, but as i've seen about 350 slutty nurses walk by in the past 9 minutes, the wow factor has completely worn off.
my gear is strewn about, as i'm packing everything up. radioactivedrunk decides to have another go at kel, so he returns, this time without nurse betty. he stumbles through my gear, staggers up to kel, and tries again to strike up a conversation.
for some reason, he's under the impression that vulgarities are a surefire way to get into a stranger's pants, so that's the route he takes. kel laughs it off, but after a while, my patience (and his common sense) has worn thin. so, very calmly, in a very quiet voice, i say something like the following:
"john, it's a very, very bad idea for you to keep talking to my fiance' in this manner, and it would be in your best interests to leave. now."
"but..."
"good night, john."
"tsk," and he walks away.
it's about 15 minutes later. i'm now facing away from the crowd as my singer and i are putting stuff in the back of the van.
"there he is!"
"hey, you been talking sh!t about my boy here?"
i turn around, and see that radioactive boy has now been joined by a 5'10", 350-pound batman. also drunk. extremely drunk. and the costume doesn't seem to fit quite right.
my singer and i look at each other, stifle a laugh, and i go to work diffusing this, er, situation. i mean, my going to jail for beating up two drunk superheros is not the kind of story i'd like my son to hear. not until he's 18 or so, anyway.
"why did you talk sh!t about my boy?"
while trying very hard not to laugh out loud, i explain to drunkfatbatman why i politely asked his sidekick to stop speaking to my fiance' as he was. after a few tries, always met with "why you talkin sh!t about my boy," it finally sinks in, i ask radioactive man to apologize, and he does. within 5 minutes, they're fans of the band.
in the meantime, nurse betty walks up to kel and asks, "what was my boyfriend saying? if he said anything rude to you, i'll kill him. i'm so sorry! i'm so embarrassed." she then walks up to me, takes radioactive man by the arm and plaintively asks me, "can we please go now?"
i'm a fairly big guy, and although i'm harmless, i've been told that i can come across as a tad bit intimidating. and it's obvious to both myself and my singer that nurse betty is scared. at this point, i can no longer control my laughter. my singer and i basically lose it in front of everyone.
call me a wuss for talking my way out of it, but i'm too old to fight. there's more to life than spending a night in lockup for beating up a comic book legend and a simpsons character.
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