Today was a unheard of (except for just once) Delivery Day at my LCS, so I put in a long day. The door closes, the store is put to bed, and I think to myself "Huh." That's it, just "Huh."
That thought leads me to my old bar. Old friends, a fresh keg of Guiness (which means it was room-temp, and not this silly chilled American idea) which myself and an old friend initiated. Buckaroo Banzai (with the alternate opening) on the big-screen. A good time flew in and sat on my head.
Then I got in trouble. The band playing was a "throw-together" at the last minute and just sucked. Never combine reggae, heavy metal and jazz in a Irish pub.
It was that 4th Irish Carbomb that led me into saying "Shut the random fuck up!"
"Hey, fuck you! You think you can do better, then get yer ass up here!" was shouted at me by the guy sitting behind the drum set.
My friend Scott beside me says "Gary, don't..." as I start to take my shirt off.
"He wants to see me play, "I state as I thread my shirt over my head (a tougher job than it should have been at that moment), "Then ahmina play. I know I'm a little sloshed, but I'm way better than that assvoid."
"THEY ALL SUCK!" yells Art, who owns the bar, from beside me.
The bassist gets this utterly nasty look and flips off Art.
"Oh fuck this..." states Art as he heads for the back.
The drummer happily gives me the seat and a set of damn heavy sticks, which I immediately switch out for something that wasn't octagonal and weighed only half as much.
Lovely. It was a 5-piece set righty. I'm a lefty who used to play a 9. I actually got confused at the setup.
Art has pulled out his long 5-string from the office ("I'm not using that peice of crap he had..."), excuses the bassist from the spot, and plugs in while I arrange the kit. Friggin' hi-hat was way too blunt.
To make it short, myself, and three others from the crowd move in and take over. One was a professional musician who was just hanging out on a rare night off, one comic geek, one bar owner and one electrical engineer.
Alcohol and being shirtless behind a kit made me bold, so we led off with AC/DC. Thunderstruck. I stumbled for a short time, then found it and went. Art is an Angus fan, so it all worked (even with that heavy bass).
"Wouldn't it be Good" actually sounded good, 'cause four of us knew it, which was surprising as Hells. 80's musicians. That and it's an easy tune.
We fumbled through a couple of other tunes, and then got down. General consensus was that yes, we were better, but not by a lot. But that's okay, I had a lot of fun, flashed back about 15 years, and I know that if we'd had a keyboardist and coulda done "Nights in White Satin" I coulda gotten laid. Not that this would please my wife, but the idea of being appealing to strange women at that moment was nice.
I'm certain tomorrow I'll hear the truth of how much we sucked and made drunken fools of ourselves, but it is all fodder for smiles and stories. I left the bar after another drink and trip to the head, and came home.
I now submit this story for ridicule. That is all.
With Tolerance For A Nights Embarrassing But Smiling Memories...
Yeah, that was me. I did it. Now do somethin' and entertain me, or step away so others can.