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.
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.
posted by MC at 22:25
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