Where to begin? It's not my first gig (I can't remember that) but it's still a good story.
As a younger man I was touring the USA and Canada constantly. Many of our gigs at that time were in places that the local economy was booming. One such gig was in the oil boom section of Wyoming. I'll spare the name of the place because I don't want any paternity suits.
The start of our 2 week engagement started on a high note. The town was full of mushrooms. See what I mean by "high note." Everyone was in very good spirits, the band and the patrons. The town was very happy to have a good rock band in too because in the last 6 weeks they had what they described as crap bands. So far so good.
Since everything was feeling very positive the phrase "when in Rome" was constantly coming up. So I became a Roman for those two weeks. Every gig was full of smiles from both sides, the band was cooking, the music flowed and there were 0 fights the whole 2 weeks which is highly unusual for an oil boom town. The band was really hot because we'd been touring nonstop for months. We had a large stage with a drum riser built in which was great because we didn't have to use ours and left it in the truck.
At the end of the engagement we pulled the riser out of the truck and got ready to start loading. It was a 28 foot straight truck and we filled it with gear from end to end and to the roof. I was always the loading guy in the truck. I'm spatially adept, remember where everything goes and this was my way of getting a workout by stacking equipment.
Just the band and the bar staff were left at load out time. They were telling us how much fun they had these two weeks, sharing stories and were looking forward to our return. At this time the free booze started to flow and flow it did. Trays of shot samplers were showing up every couple of minutes in the back of the truck delivered by the sweetest looking waitress (grrrrr). I felt energized and happy. Everything was really going well. It was a great feeling to feel appreciated and to have played well those two weeks.
Finally the truck was totally packed. It was chilly outside but I was sweating. It was a good workout.
As we were all standing around behind the truck the wait staff came out and said "Spud, you have been so entertaining these two weeks and have kept us all in stitches. We want to see exactly what kind of a sense of humor you really have." At that moment my whole world went white. Almost 30 cream pies came out of nowhere and covered me. Needless to say I was shocked. Not mad, just shocked. This had never happened to me before and I didn't know how to respond...until...
I hear the bass player ask "hey, are you ready for the drum riser now?" Instantly I found the emotion that had been alluding me - anger. The drum riser had been sitting in the shadows along side the truck and it is THE FIRST item that needed to go onto the truck in order for the pack to work. There is so much equipment that things like this are critical. What to do now?
I'm standing there covered in cream pies and drinking consolation shots wondering how to approach this issue. There was only one solution. The truck had to be partially unpacked then reloaded. Argh!
We got the repack accomplished just fine but by this time all those shots had kicked in. I was warm and hungry so I walked next door to the mini mart to get a burrito. As I walked in the clerk looked at me like I was a robber or something. Strange. I wonder whats up with that dude...until I see my reflection in the cooler doors. I had completely forgotten that I was still covered in whipped cream. If you've ever seen a tripped out, whipped cream covered, sweaty drunk man with a stupid grin on his face then you can imagine exactly what I looked like at that moment.
15 cans of whipped cream $17.85 ----- rock and roll - priceless.