One of the first road trips with my friends’ band, Working Class Hero; The John Lennon Tribute, in a show I wrote for them called, A Day In His Life, was to the University of Southern Idaho. It was a fourteen hour drive. When we got to the hotel and out of the van the air smelled like cow manure. It was farm land and for us city boys it smelled terrible.
That night we went to a grocery store to stock up on provisions. It looked like a normal grocery store but inside was more the size of a Costco. The prices were also different than what us Cali boys were used to. A cooked chicken which here would have cost eight dollars was three dollars and because we were close to Utah a lot of the products had names based on the Mormon religion. I bought a six pack of Polygamy Ale.
As we waited in line at the checkout the guys in the band started talking to the check out girl about our upcoming show, they like to promote wherever they go. A couple in line ahead of us overheard the conversation and waited for us outside.
When we left the store with our groceries the girl approached one of the stars of the show and asked if we were from Los Angeles. He said we were and she asked him to take her with us back to L.A. At first we chuckled believing she was kidding but she wasn’t kidding. I watched what I assumed was her boyfriend hanging is head down sadly as if he was giving away his puppy because he couldn’t afford to feed it anymore.
We explained we were just passing through and didn’t have any room in the van for another person, let alone someone who would want to bring her luggage. She was depressingly sincerely about going off to “Hollywood” with us and depressed us all.
The next morning when we met in the lobby about to leave for the venue I noticed it had rained the previous night and all the streets were wet. I thought at least the air will smell fresh and clean because of the rain. When we stepped outside it still smelled like cow manure, wet cow manure. It was even worse.
Because it was one of the first shows and because we drove to it the producer of the show, who had no role to play in the actual production, came along. Backstage at the hall he collected the band’s fee, many thousands of dollars, then started drinking. He offered the show’s bass player who also had the responsibility of running all the show’s multimedia, a shot from a bottle of vodka. “Don’t give him that to drink,” I said. “ He’s about to go onstage.”
“Oh lighten up, Dad,” he sarcastically snapped back. “It’s Rock and Roll. You gotta learn to party.”
After the show we drove back to the hotel with the producer now completely wasted.
“Let’s see the check,” someone requested back in the hotel room, and then the producer sobered up real fast. He had lost the check. I had to drive him all the way back to the venue as he was still too drunk to drive and I was the one who, after both of us searched the backstage area, finally found the check in the trash can with the empty vodka bottle. The maintenance man was about to dump it.
“Don’t ever tell me to lighten up again,” I told him.
Of course, people like that don’t learn and he continued to be a more destructive element rather than what a producer should be; one who actually is productive.
That night we went to a grocery store to stock up on provisions. It looked like a normal grocery store but inside was more the size of a Costco. The prices were also different than what us Cali boys were used to. A cooked chicken which here would have cost eight dollars was three dollars and because we were close to Utah a lot of the products had names based on the Mormon religion. I bought a six pack of Polygamy Ale.
As we waited in line at the checkout the guys in the band started talking to the check out girl about our upcoming show, they like to promote wherever they go. A couple in line ahead of us overheard the conversation and waited for us outside.
When we left the store with our groceries the girl approached one of the stars of the show and asked if we were from Los Angeles. He said we were and she asked him to take her with us back to L.A. At first we chuckled believing she was kidding but she wasn’t kidding. I watched what I assumed was her boyfriend hanging is head down sadly as if he was giving away his puppy because he couldn’t afford to feed it anymore.
We explained we were just passing through and didn’t have any room in the van for another person, let alone someone who would want to bring her luggage. She was depressingly sincerely about going off to “Hollywood” with us and depressed us all.
The next morning when we met in the lobby about to leave for the venue I noticed it had rained the previous night and all the streets were wet. I thought at least the air will smell fresh and clean because of the rain. When we stepped outside it still smelled like cow manure, wet cow manure. It was even worse.
Because it was one of the first shows and because we drove to it the producer of the show, who had no role to play in the actual production, came along. Backstage at the hall he collected the band’s fee, many thousands of dollars, then started drinking. He offered the show’s bass player who also had the responsibility of running all the show’s multimedia, a shot from a bottle of vodka. “Don’t give him that to drink,” I said. “ He’s about to go onstage.”
“Oh lighten up, Dad,” he sarcastically snapped back. “It’s Rock and Roll. You gotta learn to party.”
After the show we drove back to the hotel with the producer now completely wasted.
“Let’s see the check,” someone requested back in the hotel room, and then the producer sobered up real fast. He had lost the check. I had to drive him all the way back to the venue as he was still too drunk to drive and I was the one who, after both of us searched the backstage area, finally found the check in the trash can with the empty vodka bottle. The maintenance man was about to dump it.
“Don’t ever tell me to lighten up again,” I told him.
Of course, people like that don’t learn and he continued to be a more destructive element rather than what a producer should be; one who actually is productive.
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