There are alcoholics that are monsters when they drink, but I am hands down the worst. No contest. In high school I tore out of my folks home to see my girlfriend. Blacked out at the wheel, knocked over some trash cans, demolished a mailbox, and ultimately came crashing into the ditch that seperated the frontage road and Highway 99. I don't remember, but my pops was coming home from work and took me from the scene of the crime, only to have the cops come take me to jail. When I came out of my blackout, a cop introduced me to an inmate that looked like he would fuck me if given the chance.
"Why don't you tell the young man why you're here," the cop said.
"I didn't do anything," he replied.
He was trying to pull the "scared straight" thing. It worked for a minute. Ultimately, the DUI cost me about 5K, plus I had to replace the mailbox. As I did, it of course dawned on me that I could have killed someone, especially as I saw kids living in that house. The owner wasn't sore at me, suprisingly.
I had seen the crash test dummy movies in drivers ed in high school and sure as shit: wearing a seatbelt saved me a trip to the hospital. Like the dumbfuck/lush that I am I got another DUI coming home from a strip joint three years later. Wasn't blacked out, but blew a 1.7 by the time they got me to Sac County Jail. Kind of wish I had a picture of my mugshot with waist long hair and a Misfits shirt on. As I was being processed (and in some sort of line), some old man's pants were falling down and a female cop kicked him forward. Once I was in the drunk tank some guy was on the pay phone with his bitch and all he kept saying was "I wanna know what's really going on."
I didn't have a liscense for 5 years after that. I went to the AA meetings, but kept fucking off the classes that I needed to take to get my liscense back. When I finally got it back, ironically, I had a perfect driving record and insurance was fairly cheap. Prior to that, I spent a good part of that time living in the valley of L.A. I realied on my girl and bandmates to drive me around, often in my truck.
I never did any drinking and driving after the second one. I am lucky I never killed myself or anyone else, thank you God/Jesus/Buddha/etc.
But, this isn't really all that entertaining, is it? How bout a couple stories from my two decades of working in concert production?
Not sure which stories I may have shared, but here are a couple.
Just started the Around The Fur tour and it was Thanksgiving '97. Day off. Went to see Sevendust. I had never seen them, but the singer kept thrusting his pelvis to the music. I grabbed his cock (obviously there was no barricade. Club gig), he ignored me. Tones and crew went back to the hotel. Chilled in the tour managers suite. Some of us did blow, but one of the guys that didn't kept flicking a little ball of gack in cirlcles. I went to the balcony and noticed that there was a roof below where the first floor and hotel entrance/lobby were. Drunk & coked up- I eyed the television. This was before flat screens, of course. They had tubes in them. I went inside and grabbed the tv, pulled it out (it was still wired to the cable and A/C). I looked at the band; Chino and Abe were shaking their heads NO, but Stef (God Bless him) was nodding YES. Really, it didn't matter whether I got approval or not. I ripped the tv from the cables in the wall and said, "Listen to this!" It sounded like a bomb dropping. Even my brother, ever the married saint (who was asleep in our room) heard it. The best part was in the morning the tour manager had to haggle with the hotel (and in fact tell them what happened) over the price of the tv. $550- my main man Stef split the cost.
"You're lucky yesterday was Thanksgiving muthafucka," Chino said.
Fast forward to '98- a two month European tour with Willhaven. Day off, again (that's when I always got in trouble cause I never drank during "work"). Marseille, France. I went out drinking alone. Got in a cab on the way back. I had asked in advance how much it would be, but when we got there he hit some button and the fare doubled. I kind of blacked out briefly, but one of the crew guys heard me yelling at him, thrashing his cab, an apparently this portly French guy. I came to as I entered the lobby, the cab driver followed me in and I noticed a huge lump on his forehead. I ran for the elevator and called Jim the tour manager to say if I didn't make the morning bus call, to look for me in jail. Nothing happened, but the next day I found out that Marseille is a total gangster town. Walking around with my brother Dai, I kept looking around thinking I was gonna get plowed by a cab. I didn't. Yes, I should never drink. Drugs? Well, I don't do drugs, unless you're holding.
So, on the last day of any tour the bands play shenanigans on each other. Deftones, Far, and Snapcase. It was in Seattle and the singer from Snapcase was super straight-edge vegan. I sent the runner to the fish market for fish heads, which I strategically placed around their dressing room and deli tray. Our crew played some light jokes on Far, like putting water on their drums- it looked cool when the drummer hit them. But I have to say Far got the best of us. After Jonah did his ritual duet with Chino (Be Quiet and Drive), he took an opened 10 pound bag of flour and threw it on Chino. He was covered in sweat and ghostly white, kind of like Casper the Friendly Ghost. Well played Jonah.
I may or may not have written about this shit before and I have to save some for the book. It's worth noting that I was fired twice from the Tone's crew, diservadely. The first time I used the analogy that it was like being fired from the circus for clowning around. There is a phenomenon I call the "Roadie Rock Star thing." The craziest fuckers are always the crew guys, hands down. And, ultimately I was fired for good reason. Dr. Jeckyll never know what Mr. Hyde has done in the morning. Sick some times, really.
I could go on, but that's enuff for now kids. It's Xmas eve and I will probably move on to Netflix or porn or something. I got a new Guitar World in the mail, who knows. Going to see the movie Vice about Dick Cheney tomorrow. If you're too young to remember- he was secretly the president during Bush Jr's time. That fucker should be in prison, but what do I know? Most people don't even know that a third building fell on 9/11. World Trade Building 7 is the only building in history to fall because of a couple office fires. There's even footage of some English reporter saying it collapsed, but it's blatantly behind her in the shot. I don't want to get to political here, but if you can't see that all 3 buildings are "controlled demolition," then whatever, ignorance is bliss they say. I watched hundreds of hours of the shit on 9/11 to point where I finally had to say enuff is znuff: what the fuck could I do? I think it was Eisenhower (could be wrong though) that coined the term, "Military Industrial Complex."
Peace Sells, But Who's Buying. Mega-Dave, even you got something right when you weren't being a douchebag. Respect, yo!
Merry Xmas, Happy New Year, and all that other horse shit.
Reflections of a Man on a Swing - Christina Rogers BUFC