Being friends with bands definitely has its perks, one of them being transportation to out of town shows. On this hot, sticky, Sacramento summer day Rob, the bass player for The Left Hand picked me up from my apartment. Our destination was Tahoe.
It was the weekend before school started and seemed the perfect opportunity for an end of the summer blow out. Crammed in the back seat was my wheelchair, part of the drum kit and eventually this guy Doc, whom we picked up in Placerville on the ride up the hill.
We had made this trek before and already knew the drill. We met up with the rest of the band and other friends at the hotel room across the street from the Whiskey Dicks Saloon were the band would be playing later in the evening. Vic (lead singer) and his lady Vanessa were taking a nap and were trying to shake the pre-show jitters after getting into a confrontation with other hotel patrons.
Apparently, an unsavory Irish man asked Vic if it was OK with him if his girlfriend came and took a nap with him. Obviously Vic said no, that was definitely not OK. This set the stage to events that would unfold later on in the night and into the wee hours of the morning.
The show went off with out a hitch, it was great. Pruno, rockabily punk rock band kicked off the festivities with style and high energy. Next we were graced with the musical talents of Pintlifter who traveled all the way from Chico, California. Pintlifter played songs that got the audience involved; they had a captivating way of telling stories through song. They even sang a song about Pabst Blue Ribbon, which was fitting because that was the beer of choice that night, enjoyed by all. Then The Left Hand rocked the house, friends, new and old dance the night away. Vic still is undefeated in his notorious on stage beer drinking contest, I pizza cutted peoples toes with my wheelchair in the mosh pit, and the floor was sticky with beer and sweat.
In summary the night went just as most nights go in a life of musical misfits, that is until we returned to the hotel rooms with all the bands and all the fans and totally Motley Crue'd that place.
Remember that unsavory Irish man from earlier? Well, he had friends. Six loud, obnoxious, drunken Irish men with heavy accents joined our party filled with tattoo'd punk rockers from Sacramento. Lets just say there was a bit of a cultural gap. Interesting piece of information: people in Ireland don't burp, at least not in public.
Sure, things went well for a while. Irish guy #1 even shook Vic's hand and apologized for his rude comment about his girlfriend, an attempt to settle the air. Twenty five people hung out, talked music and were generally having fun...that is until someone dared someone else to round house kick the lamp in the hotel room. A little advice, don't ever dare someone who has been drinking to do something, because chances are they are going to do it.
Needless to say we got kicked out of that hotel room, and somehow ended up back at the Irish guys hotel room. That lasted for about a whole five minutes until they got mad because someone put a beer in the microwave. Not a smart idea.
I left the room as soon as the yelling started and the testosterone started seeping, I went around the corner and as I did I hear glass shattering. Right after that it was a free for all. All of the sudden the hotel just started spewing out people. Some were fighting, others were just running to get out of there. I really don't think anyone knew exactly what was going on. One person even said they were just trying to make sure none of our friends were getting beat up, he was just going around pulling obnoxious Irish guys off people.
I went up to the front of the hotel to try and figure out why a mob of people went running across the highway chasing someone when I caught that guy Doc calling the police. He ended up taking a cab home all the way back to Placerville that night. The police must have already been notified because upon reaching the back of the hotel I witnessed a couple of people being questioned by the cops. I hid behind a mini van for a while until my friends wife called and I had to explain to her why her husband was being questioned and possibly arrested.
Thats when I went back to the original scene where the drama unfolded and I saw the stretcher. My heart sank. Apparently Vic caught the brunt of the beating and was knocked out. He went to the emergency room for observation. By this time it was 4 a.m. and in front of the hotel were six cop cars, two ambulences and a fire truck.
No one got to sleep until after 6 a.m. and Vic returned safely from the hospital. Of course everyone had to recount the event over and over again, in detail. Everyone had their side of the story and what they saw.
As I lie there laughing to myself about the randomness that I witnessed that night, trying to figure out how I could recap the event on paper I could still hear six obnoxious drunken Irishmen with heavy accents downstairs partying. But I couldn't understand a word they were saying.
Then I let out a little good night burp.
Not a dull moment in this column, which is told chronologically, for obvious reasons, I suppose. It does get slightly hard to follow when the band is done playing and trouble starts.
ReplyDeleteIs that on purpose by the columnist to reflect state of mind? Or perhaps it is a reflection of memory loss suffered
In a few places, the writing could be tighter ("Apparently, an unsavory Irish man asked Vic" - apparently is probably unnecesary), and first person could be knocked out in several instances, too.
But the column has a clear beginning and clear end, which make it easy and entertaining to read.
I am a little unclear about the burping reference. Most of my Irish amigos are world-class belchers.
Perhaps that can be another cultural column.
Urrrp.
Part of the reason the column went fuzzy is because there was so much going on; it was hard to pull it all together with out making it confusing or too long. I was a little worried about writing it because of the content and my audience. I guess I could have written something about riding the bus, but I wanted to take a chance.
ReplyDelete