Tales of the Roadie - Part 1

Crazy stuff happens when the band is on stage. It is the nature of humans to do retarded stuff when under the influence. I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to le performers de Brat Pack that they don't see most of it from stage. I think I'd like to start blogging some of the asinine stuff I see. I call my new series "Tales of the Roadie." Here's my first story:

We were in Taylorville tonight...at Bailey's! Cool club, cool people. But in any crowd that size, you're bound to find your occasional drunken moron. So it goes like this: It's the middle of the second set. These two dudes stumble in, and when informed that there was a cover charge, they immediately got that look on their face that they were special somehow and could argue their way out of paying the cover. (It's a classic facial expression that any door guy immediately recognizes :)

So here's what dude #2 says to me. "You want me to pay X bucks?!? It sounds like a ~friggin'~ jukebox!" (expletive replaced...this is a family blog after all :)

It took me all of 2 milliseconds to realize how rediculous his argument was. What better compliment could he give? I responded, "That's cause they rock." Both dudes paid, but then again, everybody pays when Sixteen Kendell's is at the door.