Wrong End of a Gun

We weren't a very good band but we were okay for some young guys just getting out in the world. The lead singer and rhythm guitar player was the youngest and handsome of the group but also encumbered with a pregnant girlfriend.

Problem with pregnancy is it ends with responsibility and that is hard on a band. The pressure from family to get a real job and "do the right thing" is tough for a 20 year old.

It was especially tough for him doing local gigs without the girls throwing themselves at him and causing no end of strife for the mother of his child. She wanted the "Leave it to Beaver" lifestyle which didn't include singing in honky-tonks and getting strange women on the side.

Somehow we get booked at an "A" circuit country bar that is used to having Nashville quality acts with pedal steel guitars and fiddles and honky-tonk piano and three part harmony with a girl singer. We were WAY out of our league.

We drove down a night early so we could check the bar out. There was our bass player who had only been playing for a couple of years and it didn't come easy to him. The drummer was a stocky guy with tattoos and scars. He was a roofer, clammer and a crack head from time to time. I added lead guitar and vocals.

The band that was playing sounded exactly like the record, I was knocked out. They all played multiple instruments and sang like songbirds. Those guys were a little older and were definitely top-notch musicians. All I could say was "WOW, man". I was ready to go back to Mims and save ourselves the embarrassment.

A waitress came over and one of the guys immediately let's her know we are next weeks band. "Fantastic" she says and starts motioning at someone to come over. She takes our drink orders as a manager type pulls up a chair and introduces himself.

"These boys ain't bad but they're not our favorite" he says. Holy shit, they're going to fire us before we finish sound checking I'm thinking to myself. As he and the other guys rattle on in oblivion, I'm listening to how exceptional those guys could play.

"Well, we'll get y'all a room for tonight and we'll see you here tomorrow at 4PM for soundcheck and the band house should be ready too" as he motions to the waitress to take care of our tab. A few minutes later an assistant manager type comes out and hands us directions to the motel. Holy shit! It's the freaking airport Hilton, two rooms, WAY too classy for a bunch of Mims rednecks. Fanciest place any of us ever stayed was the hospital.

We got through the sound check, barely. We didn't have "professional" grade equipment, in fact we didn't have much gear at all. The stage looked big and empty compared to all the stuff the guys had the night before. The manager let me know we would have to do better than what he heard at sound check if we expected to please the crowd.

We actually make it through the first few nights without getting booed off the stage. However the lead singer and a hot little waitress are making time and the inevitable happens. The next night during the first set baby momma and her entourage show up.

I don't know how women do it but it didn't take baby momma five minutes to spot the hot little waitress and all hell breaks lose. The bouncers throw out the lead singer and the baby momma entourage. They go across the street to the band house and the feuding continues while we finish the night as a three piece.

The three of us head to the band house and more hell breaks lose. We are pretty sure that we're fired and the drummer goes after the lead singer. There had been a lot of animosity building between those two anyhow and now the lead singer was finding out why you don't fuck with fishermen and roofers.

The lead singer pulls a gun on the drummer and the drummer grabs me to use as a shield. All the raucous noise has caught the attention of the neighborhood as there are screaming and crying women as well as dudes tussling and cussing at 3AM in the front yard of the band house. The police arrive mid-melee to sort things out.

I knew the lead singer wouldn't shoot me so the cops let that part of it go but the drummer, bless his heart, just couldn't shut up. Every time the cops would get everyone settled the drummer would say something smart and get the whole raucous thing going again.

Finally the cops told the drummer to shut up, go back in the band house and the lead singer and the baby momma entourage would head back to Mims. Bless his heart, I grab the drummer and start leading him into the house when he rips away from me and starts back in with "that little punk pulling a gun, I'll kick his ass..."

The police grab the drummer and slam his head down on the hood of the car, totally out of patience, "Spread your legs" as they kick his feet out from under him causing him to slam his head down on the hood of the car again. They slapped the handcuffs on him and clamped them on as tight as they would go and slammed his head into the unopened backdoor, then opened the door and hit his head on the roof pretty hard shoving his stocky ass into the back of the patrol car. That's what happens when you have previous convictions for battery LEO and don't shut the fuck up.

The next night we had an old drummer named Tipsy Tom (because he couldn't stay sober enough to make it to the end of the night) finish the job. The only reason we didn't get fired is because they couldn't come up with a replacement for us fast enough.

Needless to say we were never booked back there again.

Peace and Love!