RE: [Harp-L] Gig Horror Story -

[Scott Hicks <dscotthicks@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Here's something I wrote about an incident with a drunken patron a few years ago. I apologize for the length but hopefully you'll find it amusing...


Oh drunk woman at the tavern...  To be sure, the bar didn't exactly reek of class, with its scattered coin-op pool tables, cigarette vending machine, and decor courtesy of such renowned interior designers as Anheuser-Busch and Miller.  A smattering of earnest drinkers perched around the bar in the back third of the large room, and a few wannabe hustlers talked trash over worn green felt while chalking their cues.  In here, the ratio of smokers to non- would have made even a Philip Morris executive blush, then quickly run check his stock options.And yet you somehow managed to drag the place down at least another notch, all by yourself.  My friend pointed you out as the one who kept yelling for Skynyrd when he played the open mic last week.  I like Lynyrd Skynyrd, too.  Where we diverge is in the yelling at the band to play it.This night, though, when I first espied you, you impressed me simply with your ability to stand.  At 9:00 pm.  On a Tuesday.  As you loitered in front of the stage area, you looked like a six-year-old trying to foxtrot in her mother's heels.  You swooped and rolled and dived haphazardly in your little space there while the other patrons gave you a berth and a few chuckles.Oh what fun you had, though!  When the musicians got warmed up and played a few songs, it was none too soon for you.  "Sweet Home Alabama!" spewed from your lips as quickly as you could get the words past your drunken, mutinous tongue.  I didn't see the spray, and more importantly I didn't feel it, but I don't doubt that a measurable quantity of saliva liberated itself from your mouth with that utterance.You were party to so many memorable moments that you will never remember.  Like when you came to shake my hand while we were in the middle of a song, or when you professed your love for me during a break.  Ah, that I were only fifteen years older and deeply into a fifth of Jack Daniels, I'm sure I would have been smitten.  Instead, I graciously thanked you for bravely baring your soul whatever the consequences, then I sprinted to the bathroom.And who could forget (other than you) when you craftily came at Nate from the side with amorous intentions, and he had to elbow you in the boob to avoid your beer-soaked lips?  Or when you again forgot the generally-agreed-upon buffer between musicians and patrons, approaching me and kicking over my water glass amidst thousands of dollars of expensive and potentially fatal electrical equipment?  I know you would have been so very sorry had you even noticed.Alas, you did manage to catch me with my guard down at one point.  I was seated, talking to my friends and unable to make a hasty escape when you slipped up on my blind side (for a drunk woman, you really had that maneuver down!) and draped your arm around me.  I squirmed as if someone had asked me to wear their boa constrictor for a bit, which, in retrospect, would have been more pleasant as I'm sure the snake wouldn't have been wearing some cloying sort of perfume that was harder to remove from my skin than Sharpie marker.I wish I could have stayed to enjoy the laughs and general good feelings of your attempts to secure a ride home.  It seems that everyone had an inventive excuse and I would love to have thrown my hat in the ring and tried to come up with something creative, like maybe that I'm Amish and since I drive a buggy, it's already going to take me several hours to get home without making any additional stops.  That would have been fun.Somehow, through the long night (and quite probably several hours of drinking that preceded it) you managed to stay semi-conscious and upright.  No small feat, that.  Kudos to you for that spirited, "take-no-prisoners" attitude toward your liver.  What did it ever do for you, anyway?I am certain to be present for the next open mic night, and perhaps I'll see you there again, flying your inebriated flag and dancing about.  My good hope, though, is that someone neglects to mention to you it's moving from Tuesday to Thursday. 

Scott

> Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2012 14:47:05 +0000
> From: jdeall@xxxxxxxxxxx
> To: joe_piro@xxxxxxxxxxx
> Subject: Re: [Harp-L] Gig Horror Story -
> CC: harp-l@xxxxxxxxxx
> 
> At one gig we had a drunk girl make a song request and then fall into our monitors and mic stands. So we played "I Got Loaded" for her. 
> 
> I remember Jason Ricci telling the tale of getting hit w/ a stripper pole at one gig by the bar's owner (I think). 
> 
> Where would we be w/o the "war" stories. 
> 
> 
> Thanks Jerry, 
> 
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Joe Piro" <joe_piro@xxxxxxxxxxx> 
> To: "Harp-l" <harp-l@xxxxxxxxxx> 
> Sent: Sunday, March 25, 2012 3:17:54 PM 
> Subject: [Harp-L] Gig Horror Story - 
> 
> Beat this Bruhs - 
> 
> 
> 
> . 9pm Friday night show time: Elderly woman approaches bandstand to 
> say hello. Trips over floor monitor and hits the deck. Haven't even turned 
> on our amps yet. 
> 
> . 9:30pm: intoxicated dude #1 shown the door 
> 
> . 10:30pm: overzealous/intoxicated dude #2 falls into the PA stand 
> while dancing to "American Band" - big GFR fan evidently - Guinness draft 
> hits the floor. 
> 
> . 10:30:05pm: PA crashes into Guinness draft 
> 
> . 10:30:06pm: PA stand falls into guitarist's spare MusicMan 'strat 
> - the pricey one 
> 
> . 10:30:08pm: 'strat falls into guitarist's Mesa - the pricey one 
> 
> . 10:30:15pm: I help intoxicated dude #2 up - receive friendly 
> electrical reminder that beer is a fairly good conductor - true 
> 
> . 11:15pm: intoxicated dude #3 gets "accidentally slammed" from 
> behind - turns out, he's a pal of mine. Said pal is rag-dolled into the 
> guitarist and me. Bud Lite this time. Never knew that the volume of beer 
> expands when airborne. Also true 
> 
> . 11:15:01pm: Dude #3's beer saturates guitarist's entire pedal 
> board - too many pedals to count - the pricey ones. My delay pedal also a 
> bit gooey. At least the beer is not dark. Thankfully 9V stomp night for me. 
> Guitarist is plugged in though. Sidebar: I'm midway through singing "Boom, 
> Boom" - not kidding. Boom, Boom. 
> 
> 
> 
> I win. 
> 
> Can corroborate all. 
> 
> Now taking up Parcheesi. 
> 
> If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'. 
> 
> 
> 
> Joe P. 
> 
> 
> 
> 
>