One Wild Night in Klamath Falls (Part 2)
Mary and I walked over to the merch table to check out the band's stuff. Merch Guy had walked away for a moment. Like I wrote here before, I had on my favorite Gov't Mule shirt, a little short sleeved black number sporting the logo from the album "Dose" on the front with tour dates in Japanese from the '98 Japan tour on the back. Not something you'll find at Hot Topic or Spencer Gifts and I guess I got a little jamband street cred that night, because Merch Guy walked up behind us and said, "Hey, a Mule fan. Nice shirt, man." He introduced himself as Mikey. We talked a little bit about Gov't Mule and other bands, including the one he was working for that night, when he asked how we heard about the show.
I told him the story about how it was Mary's birthday the next day, heading to Reno, finding the band on Pollstar and checking out the band's website. He was really kind of blown away. I'm positive we were the only people there that were from out of town, much less out of state (besides the band and Mikey) and I'm pretty sure we were the only ones that actually searched out the band on the internet to see if it would be a cool show. Most others there looked like they rolled in after work or maybe even were there all day. So he was really pleased to hear all of this. In the grassroots-type of approach that these jambands take in promoting themselves, I could see he was happy that someone took the trouble to see what they were all about. Although I don't know if I could consider using such a modern tool as the internet as purely "grassroots", certainly they are not part of the mega-label propaganda machine that shovels and burns "Hot New Artists" of the week like lumps of coal into a locomotive.
Mikey asked where we were staying. When we told him we were at the Travelodge, his eyes lit up and said, "No way, so are we". Then he leaned in close and said in a hushed voice, "Hey, if you want, I'll give you our room number. Come on by after the show. We got some killer weed back there".
We didn't know what to say right away. I think there may have been a slight hesitation before we nodded and said, "Ohhh, okaaay.....". Now, if there was one person in that bar-----no, wait-----one person in that town that looked like a narcotics officer, it was yours truly. Mikey was a nice guy and he had faith in Mary and I, the kind of faith that says, "I'd like you to join us in an illegal activity after only knowing you for six minutes". In retrospect, it had to have been the shirt. It must have served as some sort of smokescreen to make him think I was a hippie, too.
The percussionist, Steve, came up to talk to Mikey about something and Mikey excitedly introduced us. He relayed our little story and Steve was duly impressed as well. Mikey turned to Steve and said, "They're at the same hotel, man", all the while nodding and smiling at us. Steve leaned in close and said, "Hey, you guys should come over to our room later. We got some really good bud back there. It'll be great." We thanked him and he had to get some stuff out of the van, so he left out the front door. Man, was that shirt gaining power; two hippies in less than ten minutes.
I bought a CD on Mikey's recommendation and a shirt that is still one of my favorites. It has cartoonish dancing frogs on the front with the band's name. Soon, the show was going to start. Mikey took his spot at the soundboard. (Come to find out that in addition to Merch Guy, he is also Sound Guy, Roadie, Driver and Whatever Else Needs To Be Done Guy). Steve and the guitarist, Charley, entered the bar and took to the small stage. Then they proceeded to take off their shoes. Mary recoiled a little at that, she's not a feet person. Then they started to play.
I have to say that I've never heard a band like this before. They were kind of spellbinding. They made a lot of sound for just two guys. Steve's percussion kit was really big and he stood to play and could easily move around inside the semi-circle of various drums. Charley sang with a lot of emotion and played a fine acoustic guitar, taking some real tasty solos. Mary and I really enjoyed them and even danced a little towards the end of the evening. (Someone else always has to break the plane of the dance floor before I get out there. I'm never the point man on that charge). The crowd, which I thought was indifferent at first, was very enthusiastic by the middle of the set. I was happy for the guys.
After the show, we retreated to the bar back in the restaraunt to try some more microbrews. After a while, we were met by Mikey and Steve and introduced to Charley. Since it was now after midnight and officially Mary's birthday, the band graciously had us drink on their tab. Charley asked Mary what she'd like as a shot for us all to toast her with. She called Jameson's. The band's tab wasn't really a tab, it was pretty much how they were being paid. Dinner and bar priviledges for them and guests. I actually used the line, "It's okay, we're with the band" when I ordered a round. We were partying like rock stars. At one point, Charley and I were ordering at the same time up at the bar and he said, "Hey, I heard you guys are staying at the same place we are. When we get back, you two should come over to our room. We're gonna fire up this great shit we got. You guys are welcome. It's really good weed, man". We had hit the trifecta. All three of them had invited us over for pot. What a time to be a cop, an Amway salesman or a serial killer.
While still at the bar, I was introduced by Steve to a lady that was described to me only as a friend of the band. She was a very nice hippy chick, but what struck me weird was that she had a beautiful, gigantic German Sherpard with her, in the bar, and nobody thought anything of it. Steve walked over to talk to someone else and I talked to her for just a minute when she said, "Hey, watch him for a second", and handed me the dog's leash. I had it in my hand as I watched her head out the front door and down the street. What the hell was going on here? I looked down at the dog, who was now laying on the floor as comfortable as can be. I petted him on the head and talked to him for awhile, feeling relieved that he didn't invite me back to the hotel to get stoned. People kept coming up to me and asking what the dog's name was, how old he was and so on. I was pretty drunk by this time and was slurring something about the hippy lady and pointing towards the door.
So here I was, drunk in a Mongolian restaraunt in Klamath Falls, holding the lead to a dog that wasn't mine. Mary came up to me and made a face that told me the words before she said them, "Whose dog is that?" and, "Why are you holding him?" I said something like, "da lady's dog and I'm holdin' him 'til she gets here back...here..." Mary was feeling fine at this point as well and simply replied with a shrugging, "Okay". Then we ordered more drinks.
The lady did come back and thanked me for watching the dog. Then Charley came over and toasted us again. I told him that I'd bought the shirt and he said that his wife did the design. I said that I liked it, but that I hated frogs (which I do). He said, "No man, those frogs are cool because they're stoned little froggies". I took the shirt out and I'll be damned if they don't looked completed baked. What is with these guys?
At about 1:45am, we passed on the invite back to their room and staggered back to ours. We crashed heavily until about 6:00am. That was when we learned that sometime between the last time Mary had eaten it and when she'd eaten it last night, she'd developed a severe shellfish allergy, but didn't know it. I won't go into too much detail, but just know that it was violent and relentless.
I was really hungover. But then again, I planned on getting much more than four hours of sleep. But I was in better shape than Mary. She couldn't even walk from the bed to the sink to get a drink of water without feeling woozy. This was no hangover for her. I felt pretty helpless. After a few more bouts with her stomach, she thought she could eat something. She had a weird craving for Danish. So I threw on last night's clothes and wobbled to the gas station next door. The only Danish they had was a huge, 12 roll variety pack. But that's what sounded good to Mary and when you're that sick, what sounds good usually is good. So I bought this multi-pack and some Gatorade and went back up to the room.
Now, when we reserved the room, we figured that we only needed a place to flop for the night, shower and dress in. It was an okay room, but not a place you'd want to stay for a long time, especially while fighting a food allergy. It was small, a little stuffy and the T.V. only got 9 stations and 6 of those were snowy. To make matters worse, NBC came in okay, but Katie Couric (who I have a thing for) was on vacation. So we waited it out in this depressing little cell of a room. Mary wasn't feeling much better and the Danish didn't take, if you get my drift, so we were actually considering staying there for another night just so she could work it out of her sytem.
She eventually won the battle and was able to travel. We showered and packed up the car. Throwing the bags in the trunk, we heard someone shout "hey" from behind. It was the guys in the band. Mikey was slowly walking behind them, obviously nursing a world-record hangover. He looked like a crime-scene photo come to life. We talked for a little while and thanked them for the great night out. They seemed genuinely happy to have met us and thanked us for coming out to see them. They gave Mary hugs and wished her a happy birthday and we started to get in our car. We saw the package of Danish on the seat and yelled to them, asking if they wanted them. For a travelling band on a shoestring, it was a godsend. They were beside themselves, thanking us over and over again for a $3.29 package of sweet rolls.
So after all that planning, the night turned into something I never would have bet on. I really thought we'd just have dinner and watch a band. Something to do to kill time on the way to Reno. We found out that Klamath Falls rocks.
Of all the Mongolian joints in all the world, we wandered into that one.......
I told him the story about how it was Mary's birthday the next day, heading to Reno, finding the band on Pollstar and checking out the band's website. He was really kind of blown away. I'm positive we were the only people there that were from out of town, much less out of state (besides the band and Mikey) and I'm pretty sure we were the only ones that actually searched out the band on the internet to see if it would be a cool show. Most others there looked like they rolled in after work or maybe even were there all day. So he was really pleased to hear all of this. In the grassroots-type of approach that these jambands take in promoting themselves, I could see he was happy that someone took the trouble to see what they were all about. Although I don't know if I could consider using such a modern tool as the internet as purely "grassroots", certainly they are not part of the mega-label propaganda machine that shovels and burns "Hot New Artists" of the week like lumps of coal into a locomotive.
Mikey asked where we were staying. When we told him we were at the Travelodge, his eyes lit up and said, "No way, so are we". Then he leaned in close and said in a hushed voice, "Hey, if you want, I'll give you our room number. Come on by after the show. We got some killer weed back there".
We didn't know what to say right away. I think there may have been a slight hesitation before we nodded and said, "Ohhh, okaaay.....". Now, if there was one person in that bar-----no, wait-----one person in that town that looked like a narcotics officer, it was yours truly. Mikey was a nice guy and he had faith in Mary and I, the kind of faith that says, "I'd like you to join us in an illegal activity after only knowing you for six minutes". In retrospect, it had to have been the shirt. It must have served as some sort of smokescreen to make him think I was a hippie, too.
The percussionist, Steve, came up to talk to Mikey about something and Mikey excitedly introduced us. He relayed our little story and Steve was duly impressed as well. Mikey turned to Steve and said, "They're at the same hotel, man", all the while nodding and smiling at us. Steve leaned in close and said, "Hey, you guys should come over to our room later. We got some really good bud back there. It'll be great." We thanked him and he had to get some stuff out of the van, so he left out the front door. Man, was that shirt gaining power; two hippies in less than ten minutes.
I bought a CD on Mikey's recommendation and a shirt that is still one of my favorites. It has cartoonish dancing frogs on the front with the band's name. Soon, the show was going to start. Mikey took his spot at the soundboard. (Come to find out that in addition to Merch Guy, he is also Sound Guy, Roadie, Driver and Whatever Else Needs To Be Done Guy). Steve and the guitarist, Charley, entered the bar and took to the small stage. Then they proceeded to take off their shoes. Mary recoiled a little at that, she's not a feet person. Then they started to play.
I have to say that I've never heard a band like this before. They were kind of spellbinding. They made a lot of sound for just two guys. Steve's percussion kit was really big and he stood to play and could easily move around inside the semi-circle of various drums. Charley sang with a lot of emotion and played a fine acoustic guitar, taking some real tasty solos. Mary and I really enjoyed them and even danced a little towards the end of the evening. (Someone else always has to break the plane of the dance floor before I get out there. I'm never the point man on that charge). The crowd, which I thought was indifferent at first, was very enthusiastic by the middle of the set. I was happy for the guys.
After the show, we retreated to the bar back in the restaraunt to try some more microbrews. After a while, we were met by Mikey and Steve and introduced to Charley. Since it was now after midnight and officially Mary's birthday, the band graciously had us drink on their tab. Charley asked Mary what she'd like as a shot for us all to toast her with. She called Jameson's. The band's tab wasn't really a tab, it was pretty much how they were being paid. Dinner and bar priviledges for them and guests. I actually used the line, "It's okay, we're with the band" when I ordered a round. We were partying like rock stars. At one point, Charley and I were ordering at the same time up at the bar and he said, "Hey, I heard you guys are staying at the same place we are. When we get back, you two should come over to our room. We're gonna fire up this great shit we got. You guys are welcome. It's really good weed, man". We had hit the trifecta. All three of them had invited us over for pot. What a time to be a cop, an Amway salesman or a serial killer.
While still at the bar, I was introduced by Steve to a lady that was described to me only as a friend of the band. She was a very nice hippy chick, but what struck me weird was that she had a beautiful, gigantic German Sherpard with her, in the bar, and nobody thought anything of it. Steve walked over to talk to someone else and I talked to her for just a minute when she said, "Hey, watch him for a second", and handed me the dog's leash. I had it in my hand as I watched her head out the front door and down the street. What the hell was going on here? I looked down at the dog, who was now laying on the floor as comfortable as can be. I petted him on the head and talked to him for awhile, feeling relieved that he didn't invite me back to the hotel to get stoned. People kept coming up to me and asking what the dog's name was, how old he was and so on. I was pretty drunk by this time and was slurring something about the hippy lady and pointing towards the door.
So here I was, drunk in a Mongolian restaraunt in Klamath Falls, holding the lead to a dog that wasn't mine. Mary came up to me and made a face that told me the words before she said them, "Whose dog is that?" and, "Why are you holding him?" I said something like, "da lady's dog and I'm holdin' him 'til she gets here back...here..." Mary was feeling fine at this point as well and simply replied with a shrugging, "Okay". Then we ordered more drinks.
The lady did come back and thanked me for watching the dog. Then Charley came over and toasted us again. I told him that I'd bought the shirt and he said that his wife did the design. I said that I liked it, but that I hated frogs (which I do). He said, "No man, those frogs are cool because they're stoned little froggies". I took the shirt out and I'll be damned if they don't looked completed baked. What is with these guys?
At about 1:45am, we passed on the invite back to their room and staggered back to ours. We crashed heavily until about 6:00am. That was when we learned that sometime between the last time Mary had eaten it and when she'd eaten it last night, she'd developed a severe shellfish allergy, but didn't know it. I won't go into too much detail, but just know that it was violent and relentless.
I was really hungover. But then again, I planned on getting much more than four hours of sleep. But I was in better shape than Mary. She couldn't even walk from the bed to the sink to get a drink of water without feeling woozy. This was no hangover for her. I felt pretty helpless. After a few more bouts with her stomach, she thought she could eat something. She had a weird craving for Danish. So I threw on last night's clothes and wobbled to the gas station next door. The only Danish they had was a huge, 12 roll variety pack. But that's what sounded good to Mary and when you're that sick, what sounds good usually is good. So I bought this multi-pack and some Gatorade and went back up to the room.
Now, when we reserved the room, we figured that we only needed a place to flop for the night, shower and dress in. It was an okay room, but not a place you'd want to stay for a long time, especially while fighting a food allergy. It was small, a little stuffy and the T.V. only got 9 stations and 6 of those were snowy. To make matters worse, NBC came in okay, but Katie Couric (who I have a thing for) was on vacation. So we waited it out in this depressing little cell of a room. Mary wasn't feeling much better and the Danish didn't take, if you get my drift, so we were actually considering staying there for another night just so she could work it out of her sytem.
She eventually won the battle and was able to travel. We showered and packed up the car. Throwing the bags in the trunk, we heard someone shout "hey" from behind. It was the guys in the band. Mikey was slowly walking behind them, obviously nursing a world-record hangover. He looked like a crime-scene photo come to life. We talked for a little while and thanked them for the great night out. They seemed genuinely happy to have met us and thanked us for coming out to see them. They gave Mary hugs and wished her a happy birthday and we started to get in our car. We saw the package of Danish on the seat and yelled to them, asking if they wanted them. For a travelling band on a shoestring, it was a godsend. They were beside themselves, thanking us over and over again for a $3.29 package of sweet rolls.
So after all that planning, the night turned into something I never would have bet on. I really thought we'd just have dinner and watch a band. Something to do to kill time on the way to Reno. We found out that Klamath Falls rocks.
Of all the Mongolian joints in all the world, we wandered into that one.......
posted by Tony at 7:14 PM
<< Home