Party Animals Should Not Be Let Out Of Their Cages Until At Least 3:00

For the second day in a row, I was rudely awoken by Cher's Believe being played full blast over the jukebox at 10:15 in the morning. At the same time, some rowdy drunks were causing a ruckus, shouting "Whoo-hooo!" At the top of their lungs (think Blur's Song2). I felt like I was going to be solely responsible for a homicide. Placing the pillow over my head, I managed to sleep through the noise until 2:00 in the afternoon. As I discovered later, Arleen couldn't stand the noise, and drove the Suburban to a quiet field where she took a relaxing nap.

By 3:00, I was quite hungry and I found myself walking several blocks to Smitty's for some hearty grub. The same red-haired girl greeted me, remembered me from yesterday, and asked how our gig went the previous night (we had a pleasant conversation the previous day). When I get customer service like this, I want to stay in these towns a little longer, but my "job" prevents me from doing so.

I left the restaurant shortly after eating, and walked straight "home". I listened to a few of the bands' songs, and then went up to my hotel room to practice. It wasn't very long until Dave knocked on my door. While Dave was asking about my plans for the afternoon, a door across the hall opened, and a heavily impaired male decided to strike up a friendly conversation with us. Dave informed me later that he doesn't have the patience to talk with people that are clearly under the influence, so we promptly went downstairs to do some maintenance to the band equipment, in hopes of avoiding and ignoring the party animals.

The band then went out for a bite to eat, and we were playing our first set shortly thereafter. The "Silver Spur Saloon" wasn't as busy as the previous night, but we were playing very well. I think it's the best we had ever played. During one of the breaks, Dave mentioned to me how my timekeeping had improved from last night. In fact, he was talking about learning another half-dozen songs for next week, which would include Blue Öyster Cult's Don't Fear The Reaper, Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven and a few others. I would call this definitive proof that I am not holing them back.

The bar crowd was especially strange tonight. Patrons came and went, but rarely stayed for the full night. We began playing Rock music early on, and it seemed like the crowd wasn't into it tonight. We then changed our repertoire to reflect about 90% country music, and that got us a much better response from the crowd. The second-last set felt especially good to me, at which time I was very thirsty, so I grabbed a beer and sucked it back. I sat down at a table, and soon found one of the bar patrons (who called himself "Abe") sitting at my table and keeping me company. He seemed friendly enough. We made small talk for about 20 minutes until the time came for the band to play our final set of the night. That beer didn't take long to hit me, and then I felt very loose sitting at the drumkit.

The last set was a real killer. Half the bar was up dancing to our music, and we received two encores at the tail end of the show. By this time, my bladder was bursting, and I couldn't do anything about it until we were completely finished our show.

The band took a short break, at which time Dave paid me the ultimate compliment. He told me that if I kept playing as good as I did this night, that I would end up becoming a "monster drummer". Dave wasn't full of it either; he's played with dozens of drummers in his musical career. For him to tell me this in the 2 short weeks I've been playing with him is quite flattering. I told him that I take my music very seriously, and I have spent most of my spare time practicing the material. All he could say was to "keep up the good work". A compliment like this makes me think that maybe I do have the dedication, perseverance, and ability to make a career out of my drumming. I know ZanZee won't be around forever, and rubbing shoulders with other musicians will be a necessity if I want to make my dream a reality -- even though it's quite real already.

We are going to ship out of Yorkton in about four hours, so perhaps I should get some rest. We have seven hours of driving ahead of us, plus Dave and Arleen have family to visit on the way back home. Next week, we are headed to Neepawa, Manitoba, which is about a 10-12 hour drive away from Medicine Hat. Dave said he would like to leave sometime Wednesday evening. I hate traveling, but maybe driving at night might be a better alternative than driving during the day. It's cooler and you get better mileage, though it could be considered more dangerous.

I am greatly anticipating the adventures that await us next week.

Deserted

I was rudely awakened at 11:00 am by Cher's "Believe" being played full blast in the bar downstairs. Soundproofing is obviously a feature the building contractors didn't consider when building this place. I think I heard that damn song at least eight times within an hour (somebody plugged that song into the jukebox on repeat). The annoyance forced me to get up, since it appeared that I wouldn't be sleeping anymore.

I can't even begin to explain what a dive that hotel/city is. I couldn't even pay tribute to The Who and trash my room, because it is already vandalized beyond repair. Maybe one of the dues of being a professional musician is staying in places you would otherwise never set foot in.

By noon I had showered, and knocked on Dave and Arleen's door to see what their plans were for the day. I had guessed that the general din of the bar downstairs had already awoken them. To my surprise, it was my knocking that ultimately woke them up. I asked them what they had planned for breakfast, but it ended up that they drove me to Smitty's and left me there. They claimed that they were going to get their own food at the Superstore (they are vegetarians, so "meat is murder", you see).

There was friendly staff at the restaurant, even though I felt like a first-class ass, sitting in the restaurant by my lonesome, but I tried to not let it bother me. The food was decent and filling, and shortly thereafter, I found myself walking back to the hotel/bar that I am calling home for the next few days.

Since last night's performance was not the caliber I had expected, I went down to the bar, mainly to become acquainted with the seven new songs we learned this week, plus listen to a few that I thought needed attention. I ordered a beer, listened to music for a few hours, and made a few adjustments to my drums. I quickly became exhausted and went upstairs to my room to lay down.

The next thing I knew, it was 7:00 pm -- I had slept for nearly three hours. We had to be on the stage in about two hours, so I figured I should get up and find some dinner. There happened to be a Subway no more than a block from the hotel. I grabbed a sandwich from the restaurant mega-chain and opted to eat in my hotel room, rather than being seen eating alone. While I satisfying my hunger, I turned on the television (one so old it had dials) and found a documentary discussing the Columbine School shooting. It was an informative program, but there was, of course, the right-wing spin on the program. The assassins were blatantly portrayed as being mentally ill. I watched the television for a little while, but I figured that I could have been doing something more productive, so I went back downstairs to the bar.

I listened to a few more songs, then had a sudden urge to practice my drums. I brought a spare pair of sticks and my practice pad for just such an occasion. To further explain, I had recently bought the latest issue of Modern Drummer, and while spending part of the afternoon reading the cover article featuring the "Thunder From Down-Under" Virgil Donati (whom claimed he practiced ten hours per day), I felt inspired. Needless to say there was an incessant tapping sound coming from my hotel room for some time.

Before I knew it, ZanZee had taken the stage again. The bar was fairly empty, but we played very solid. I would say that there was a 200% improvement in our performance since last night. We did have a few dancers since the beginning, which didn't surprise me, given the fact that all the patrons in the bar were drunk beyond belief.

There was this really "cute" couple who danced to our music all night long. It was cute in their behavior; you could visibly see they were mildly mentally challenged. The male was hilarious. While dancing, he would get very excited, and would let loose on the dance floor with his arms and feet flailing in every possible direction. The female counterpart appeared embarrassed by his behavior, and she would stop dancing and stare at him. She would then proceed to scold him for making a fool out of himself. He would then sulk, and look very ashamed of his behavior. The cycle was completed when they would neck on the dance floor for an extended period of time. This behavior continued for the entirety of the evening. There was no lack of entertainment for the band while this couple was dancing.

After a couple sets, I decided to relax a little by drinking a beer, which didn't last long. My performance in the subsequent set wasn't perfect (it never is), but it still felt very solid, even though I had a buzz by the end of the night. Dave and Arleen never expressed any problem with my "drinking-while-working" (they don't drink), but I was quite sure they would have said something if my playing sounded compromised.

The night ended with an encore, and if that's an indication of our performance, I'd say it was pretty good. In the aftermath of the show, I met another drummer -- who was drunk beyond belief, and he insisted that I sit down and have a beer with him. He bought some off-sales, and we ended up in the hotel room next to mine (which happens to be the residence of one of the bar bouncers). We drank a few more beers and played some Blackjack. I don't remember much of the details of the "after-bar-party", but I expect the sole purpose was so the attendees would not have to drink themselves into unconsciousness alone. I called it quits after a couple free beers and returned to my room, as I would hate to play tomorrow night's gig with a killer hangover.

The First Road Trip

Today was a long day. I got up at 8:30, and was supposed to be at Dave & Arleen's house by 9:30 in order to leave for Yorkton. I arrived at their house, and rang the doorbell. Thirty seconds passed and Dave answered the door in his housecoat. It seemed that either their alarm failed, or they slept through it. That error put us behind schedule by at least an hour.

It was closer to noon that we managed to hit the road, and the weather was absolutely miserable. It was cold and raining. I curled up in the back seat of their Suburban, hoping to catch a few z's. It was damn cold in the back of that vehicle, and I was wishing I brought a parka instead of a leather jacket. Dave spent most of the time driving, and flipping through radio stations. It seems that the only thing that is on the radio is related to the shooting in Taber yesterday. It makes me wonder if I want to become a teacher after all. Maybe being a rock star is safer in this day and age.

We kept driving, and I kept sleeping. The sun finally decided to peek out of the clouds by Moose Jaw, and the rest of the day ended up nice. Driving across the prairies was beginning to become a major pain in the rear. This was a seven-hour trip, not including fuel stops or "pit-stops".

I think we got into Yorkton by 7:30 that night, which didn't allow us a lot of time to set up our equipment and eat. We moved into the bar swiftly, and set up our equipment in a mad rush. We didn't have time to sound check at all. At least, to make things a little more convenient, we have been given hotel rooms upstairs.

We are staying at the City Limits Inn -- I have no idea why they call it that since the hotel is situated in the middle of downtown. This place sets a new standard in low for quality. This makes the Royal Hotel look quite lavish (see previous post). If you ever travel to Yorkton, I strongly recommend that you not stay here. This bar somewhat looks like the watering holes you see in movies (Police Academy's Blue Oyster comes to mind). Scummy. The rooms aren't any better either. Searching my room found the Gideon Bible absent, there were cracks in the wall, stained carpet that was 30 or 40 years old, and the bed seemed like it would collapse upon you like an Iron Maiden if you dared try and lay on it. The only redemption this room had was a plaque with John 3:16 written on it. However, I could almost imagine the immense amount of sin that has been committed inside these four walls. How do I miss my university dormitory. At least there I felt like I was at home. [ed. note: During this tour, we returned to Yorkton numerous times, and I was given the same hotel room each time. Strange as it sounds, that room grew on me, and I began to call it my home away from home. There were some things, like certain smells, the graffiti on the paintings hung on the walls, or sounds like the dripping of the faucet that I found comforting. It may have been a dump, but the familiarity of having the same room was comforting.]

Yorkton seems like a fairly small city [City of Yorkton website states 16,747 residents]. It doesn't seem like there is much to do in this town either. When we moved our equipment into the bar, the patrons were so drunk they could barely speak to us. I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Before we began playing, we managed to grab some food. I abandoned Dave and Arleen and let them have dinner themselves. I walked across the street to Dairy Queen for a greaseball burger. The counter girl that helped me was especially cute... "Laura" was her name. I may just have to return here tomorrow and "introduce-myself-and-my-occupation" to her. I'd love to ask her out on a date, but then why should I? I am in this town for two more nights, and I have no idea if I will return.

We began playing at 9:30, and the bar was fairly empty, so we ran through the seven new songs Dave and Arleen learned this week. The band learned two Shania Twain songs: "That Don't Impress Me" was one of them, I cannot recall the other at this time. They also learned that new Cher song "Believe", that new Blondie tune "Maria", and the Santana classics "Black Magic Woman" and "Evil Ways". I have my work cut out for me, again. The first set sounded really shaky. Arleen and I couldn't seem to get things together. I had big trouble finding the groove tonight for some reason. Maybe it's because of the new songs, but more likely because we are playing a lot of country music in this establishment.

We had a few dancers, and the response from the crowd was generally warm -- from those who were listening. The other patrons were there (of course) for one reason: cheap alcohol.

Over the course of the evening, the band tried playing a few songs with me on back-up vocals. Dave cancelled that idea pretty quick. He claimed learning vocals in a rehearsal situation would be a better idea. I suppose I agree with him, but at least he let me sing The Tragically Hip's New Orleans is Sinking, which went over quite well with the crowd.

As the night progressed, we managed to fall into the groove. There were still screw-ups, but I imagine I will go downstairs tomorrow afternoon and iron some things out for myself. The crowd changed swiftly in this bar, and as the night went on, more people occupied the dance floor, and more cheered. We got one encore tonight; those I always enjoy. We decided to kick their asses by playing Deep Purple's Smoke on the Water. That gave them enough to chew on for the rest of the evening.

After we cleaned up the stage and shut off the PA and stage lights, Dave, myself, and Fluffy (Dave and Arleen's dog) went for a walk to the 7-Eleven for some munchies and other necessities. It was a nice, warm night, and a good way to unwind from this long day. Twenty hours ago, I got up; I guess I should be exhausted. My headache has returned, but so far it is tolerable. Maybe I'll take some ibuprofen to knock me out tonight. I think I got the headache from sleeping in an uncomfortable position in the back of the truck. Sleeping in this bed with the springs poking through probably won't help either. It's well after 4:00 in the morning, and it's about time to get some rest.