Oh, I stayed up too late, ouch and damn, where's my phone, what time is it, uh oh! noon already? Lobby call is, where is that magic sheet that shows up under my door, oh, hey, lobby call is also noon. Hmmm, I wonder what the odds are that I will make it downstairs in zero seconds? Slim, very slim. Well, gig is close, nothing pending to be dealt with, just going to miss out on a free lunch. I send a PIN message to Dave Lee - "Dave Rat, be in later," just so I won't feel bad if the thought crosses their mind to wait for me.
It takes me about a hour at a moderate hazy pace to shower and pack and I move with solid momentum as I slip my watch on and head out the door, bags in tow. I will just grab a cab and it's 9 am now, hey wait a minute. Damn, it's 9 am! Shit. When I charged my phone from my computer it resets to the time on my laptop, aaaargh, LA time.
Wow, well once I got done feeling like an idiot, I had a nice breakfast, a huge Starbucks coffee while walking to the store and did what anyone with three free hours to spare would do, bought some hair bleach, of course:
Bleaching my hair is a very important natural camouflage to help me blend in with my surroundings and ward of any potential predators.
**** Roadies in Action ****
As far back as anyone can remember, roadies have carried an infamous reputation. Years ago I saw a joke written on the wall of some punk rock club that so accurately encompassed the roadie mind set that I never forgot those words and it went something like:
Roadie's Load Out Credo:
If it's wet, drink it
If it burns, smoke it
If it moves f*ck it
Otherwise, throw it in the truck.
In order to live up to this gritty reputation, roadies spend considerable time refining their ruthlessness. I slipped into the "crew room" and was fortunate to capture the true essence of these tough road dogs and their alpha male rituals, and please, the faint hearted may find this offensive and want to skip this next picture:
**** End Roadies in Action ****
Do you want to see something cool? Check this out! Here is a shot of the inner sanctum of one of Pepper's dressing rooms as the band would see it:
Minus the Dave Lee computing on the couch and my roll-away bag, of course.
And here is what it looks like when the magic is removed and it is back inthe state it was in when we arrived:
Say hello to Roadie Joni (assist) and Roadie Lyssa (backstage coordinator) whom are the architects of comfort and visual bliss that transform these cold ugly spaces into welcoming functional works of art on a daily basis.
And just so we do not forget that the reason we are all here is to 'rock,' here is a photo of tonights show: