Oh if every day was a pleasant day...

It's time to advance ZZ Top and I've got laryngitis. These aren't arenas or places I've been before. These are ballrooms, county fairs, and whistle stops in deep Texas. I can't whip out the old email threads and contact someone online. Nope, this time I need to CALL. Call the venue and try to locate the correct person. When did calling people become so daunting? In the world of email, text, skype, BBM, twitter and AIM, how on earth do you even know how to speak anymore? And when you do, its rushed, because you are speaking like you're texting or typing, you just need answers, no need for pleasantries. That's something that's gone out the window. So sad. When someone actually asks "Hello, how are you doing" you are taken aback... "uh....fine.....fine?" We call for answers and execution, not for conversation. And yet, how much more enjoyable would day to day interactions be if they were all pleasant? It may take twenty more seconds to lead into a conversation with a "How is your day?", but its guaranteed that the rest of the conversation will be better than it would have been without it. Because you're not barking orders or snapping off questions, you've taken a breath; A moment to recognize that you are speaking to another human being, who has needs and lives in the world, and that in turn makes you realize that you too are a human being that has needs and lives in the world, and then you stop and take a minute for yourself and adjust and relax, and all of a sudden, its pleasant... which is why we call them pleasantries.

Wedding Weekend What?!?

You stand there, perfectly put together, smile plastered on your face, and you're numb. It's all a blur. From the getting ready to the pictures to the ceremony, All of a sudden they are asking for rings and you immaculately produce one, then people are clapping, and its over. Married. Oh then all chaos breaks loose. Wine all around! Girls!!! Giiiiirrrrls! Get over on the deck we need the wedding party! Where is your mother!?!? Giiiiiirls! You can drink later I need you here now! Bride? Where's the bride. No! You just stay where you are. GIRLS! It's pandemonium. Lipsticking, hair flicking, dress straightening, heel clasping, boob placing crazy-ness.and that just keeps going. I find myself going in and out of consciousness, I'm on auto pilot. I look around and everything is in slow motion, it's like I'm underwater, everything is muffled. Even now I can only remember about five conversations I had that night, and I talked to so many people. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, and then you add alcohol to it? You're dead. I held it together till the very end, then I went from all good to.... a fucking train wreck and put myself to bed. Everything was fine, but I flipped fast. 12 hours of drinking? Family? Pressure? Hours of small talk. Yup, that's enough to kill anyone. And the small talk. Oy vey! No sir I don't remember Desert Storm and I wasn't around for the Iran Contra Scandal, I'm gonna make my way to the bar. Oh no ma'am I don't believe I do know that line of Laura Ashley and I'm so glad to hear your daughter didn't turn out to be a crack addict like you'd feared. Really? You think the weather is nice? I think it sucks actually and I'm sorry to hear about your heart palpatations, no I can't recommend a good cardiologist.
What is WITH these people!?! And who starts a fight over gay marriage with a 65 year old man? They were gonna come to blows! People were clearing away furniture! Hello!!! You're 30 years old, 6 foot 5, 250 pounds! Let it go! And who fell asleep on the toilet, to wake up to the cleaning crew, all alone hours after everyone had left? Not me thank god! But what's a good wedding without good stories. "don't know how I got this!" says a friend the next morning as she points to an egg on her forehead the size of a Volkswagen. Don't remember? Shit by the look of that I'm surprised you remember your name right now."i just threw up in the bushes" says another friend as she makes her way to her rental car from the front desk. So I guess it was a wedding. Everyone survived; though their ego's may be damaged, their bodies are still functioning... some better than others. The important part is that the bride and groom are happy and currently having sex on a beach somewhere, not thinking about family or to do's or anything but each other, a well deserved vacation. So yeah, it was fun, I resembled a warrior more than a party guest, I guess that's what family does in those occasions. I know when it comes to my wedding...should I ever choose to have one, it's gonna be on a beach, and if you wanna come, great, if not, I'll tell you the stories when I get home. But here's to the traditional wedding, in all it's glory. Good job this weekend team, it will live on in infamy....at least those parts we can remember.

Women on the road. What a funny idea. Out of 75 touring personnel there are 5 women out here. I decided it was time to have a girls day. So we went to get our nails done damnit! We did it all, mani's, massages and mimosas! It was awesome. We chatted like a knitting circle. I don't think people realize the life out here and what its like for a woman to function in it. Out of the five of us, we each have five different jobs: a production assistant, a press and promo girl, a caterer, a dressing room girl and a lighting chick. We interact throughout the day but don't work in the same divisions. For instance, I work alone. I don't have a team along side me, neither does the dressing room girl. Whereas the caterer has a team of men, as does the production assistant, and the lighting chick works alongside men as well, one being her husband. So we all interact with men differently during the day. I tend to deal with building reps, managers and promoters. I have to be feminine enough to be inviting but not so feminine that I'm sexy because that is intimidating. The Production Assistant needs to ooze sexuality so she creates a certain vibe in the office, very much like the secretaries of the 50's and 60's, but she can't actually BE SEXUAL, as that would create inter office stress and unneeded emotional turmoil, so she needs to be a chaste, while being sexy. Then there is the Dressing Room Girl, who spends time inside the band's coveted lair. She hems their clothes, fetches their underwear, brings them meals. This could be considered a very close relationship, but better not get too close. This is such a fine line that the wives of the band members had to interview her and give their seal of approval. So you can imagine how she dresses everyday....basically she can't look like a woman. She wears hoodies and baggie dickies in true roadie fashion. She's a gorgeous girl, but she's been given fair warning by her predecessor, don't even think about exposing belly or bra strap or you'll get canned. So that brings us to the catering girl, who works her ass off, hauling tubs of ice and cleaning up after local stagehands. She's the den mother. Cute as a button but with a steal coating you can't penetrate. She needs to be all smiles and laughs to everyone that comes into catering, no matter what. Catering is the place of comfort during the day. Food is you're only break. The only time you have to sit down and relax. So you walk in and are greeted by our smiling catering queen. The shit she gets from truck drivers, cranky roadies and lazy locals I can't even tell you, as she wipes the sweat from her brow and once again cleans the salad bar. Finally, the lighting chick, who pulls cable with her bare hands and fixes moving lights like a surgeon. Makeup is a ridiculous waste of time to her when she has a 5:45am lobby call, and what for? Her husband who's standing along side her barking orders at the local labor to move truss? This ain't no romantic comedy. She's decked out in a black hoodie and black pants just like the rest of them, on purpose, to look just like the rest of them, no need to draw attention in a sea of testosterone.
So there you have it, a woman's life on the road. The five of us. Pulling our weight everyday in this world of male-ness. I've heard certain terms and justifications for having women on the road; "One for every ten", keeps men in line, keep them sane, keep the energy balanced. Then there is also when you don't want more women "throw out the bleeders bring in the breeders". Yup, its quaint aint it?

I don't even want to get started on trying to find a shower in a venue with a door that locks, or what happens when you have to buy tampons at a truck stop with ten of your compadres behind you in line. Or that time you wore a skirt to work, you know just to change it up, never mind that it was down to your knees, you got so many cat calls you changed half way through the day so you could get some work done.

And then there are the OTHER women around, the ones who DON'T work with you, the visitors, the ones that just cause you a headache and remind you who you can not be under any circumstances. Like the time you came into the front lounge and there was a stripper passed out, alone, without her clothes on. Or the time your fellow roadies girlfriend got drunk and walked around the bus just in her bra? Or when your friend decided to pull a couple hot chicks from the crowd, brought them on the bus and they puked in the back lounge? Or the production runner who decided to work the whole day without a bra? Or the time the promoter rep for a local venue came out to party and got so hammered she started making out with everyone. Awkward.

Yup, women on the road, its a complicated story. So that's why, on a day off, after a long bus ride, I decided it was time for the five ladies of the road to join together and get Manicures and Mimosas. It was fun, if only for a fleeting time, as we laughed about our fellow roadies, commiserated about our shared pain, and giggled about our silly lives. We had fun, as girls do, as girls should, and then we went back to our male dominated days. We'll do a girls day again soon, we owe it to ourselves, we owe it to each other.

*C

So our lead singer got the flu. A serious flu in fact because we've canceled five shows. That's 10 days off. 10 days off for a roadie is dangerous. Right about now I guarantee you half a dozen roadies have completely depleted their bank accounts due to excessive alcohol consumption (as well as other party favors...we are near the Mexican boarder after all) and another half are crawling the walls from trapping themselves in their hotels rooms to NOT deplete their bank accounts. Either way you lose. We are not the sort to be lazy, so when you give us all this time off, and we have nothing to do, we go crazy. And it would be one thing if we had real "time off" and we could go home, or even take a few days off to travel to the coast and relax, but we're on call, waiting for the next chess move in this game and we are at the mercy of the band, so we need to stay put and wait it out. Waiting it out today means in a Hilton hotel room downtown Houston. Have you ever been downtown Houston? Did you know it the fattest city in America. When you ask a local what you do here they answer "eat and shop". Here, you get arrested for skateboarding, there are signs everywhere that say "this is not a camp ground" and there is zero culture. It's almost like some strange reality show they've got us on, we're on candid camera. The plot: How long till they loose their minds.

Everything is sand beige. Everyone is sand beige as well...so boring. BUT the highlight so far...the hotel was hosting a Chess competition! Grade school kids, running around with enormous statues for winning chess tournaments! that looked THRILLING!

My friend met a girl in a Thai restaurant who had tattoos, he asked her where to go to have some fun in this town, she smiled and said, you mean where people are...."open minded". Yes. That is a key ingredient, especially in Texas. Open-mindedness is so often taken for granted in the circles we swim in, and yet, two days with nothing to do in Houston will tell you exactly where your mind is.

I needed to do laundry today, since it had been 10 days since my last load. So my friend and I took the hotel shuttle over to the only Laundromat in the downtown area...a nice ten minute ride from the hotel, and as we pulled up, there were 8 other roadies doing their laundry! Laundry party! Liquor store was next door...it actually WAS a laundry party! Leave it to us to make anything into a party.

So tonight is some arcade bar where there is skee ball and PBR. Perhaps we'll have some fun. Perhaps I'll come home early and watch more episodes of Mad Men on my laptop. Either way, we're off to Dallas tomorrow...so we can wait some more...so we can fly to Vegas...so we can wait some more. Have you ever wanted to work this bad? Does it sound strange? Perhaps, but it totally puts into perspective what you enjoy doing, and one of those things is putting on a rock show, and damn do I love putting on a rock show....I can't wait till the next time I get to put on a rock show. Get better soon lead singer...please God...get better soon....

I'm at a waterslide park in Orlando...

Have you ever wondered where the term "ugly American" comes from? I'm looking at it. So I figured, with three days off in Orlando, Florida, why not go down some water slides? I think I'm scarred for life. I've vowed never to eat fast food ever ever again. But onto sunnier topics, I went to Bruce Hall's house for his son's birthday party on the 5th. For those of you who don't follow REO Speedwagon, Bruce Hall is the bass player. The whole crew was invited to attend, we drove over in the bus and parked on his palacial estate. I found it interesting that the neighboring palacial estate (with the same layout but in terracotta rather than stone gray) was in forclosure. Even rockstars can't distance themselves too far from reality. It was a lovely time. We ate burgers and ice cream cake and felt a sense of home for a short time. Watching 13 slightly overweight roadies in their late 40's and early 50's eat cake and drink soda in a sea of kids made me break out in a quiet laugh as Bruce passed out brownies. REO Speedwagon has been a journey thus far. A journey into a certain reality. All the hot chicks are gone, the blow dissapeared long ago, instead, wives pictures poke out of wallets and images of kids are displayed proudly on iphones. There is a sweetness to the whole thing, a sense of a brotherhood, and it's comforting knowing that even when the late nights turn into early bedtimes, the band plays on. We walked into the main foyer and there, displayed in all their glory, gold records and bass guitars. Bruce Hall's Hall. It was rather breathtaking. It wasn't the Hall of Records at Graceland, but then, nothing is. I turned to a nice looking man with a long white ponytail tucked into a basball cap, smiled and said "thanks for having us in your home". He winked like Santa Clause would to a kid with a tray of cookies and turned to attend to the grill. They really are very happy. And I feel honored to have been a part of such a sweet day, Tomorrow we play Lampe, MO. Lampe is 45 minutes north of Branson, Missouri. Hopefully I'll make friends with some local folk and aquire some grade-A moonshine. Here's hoping.

goodbye to a good one...

a really amazing girl I know is leaving LA. She's been here two years,
built a solid reputation in the industry and is off to Austin. Her
story is not uncommon; she had her heart broken by a boy and feels its
time to move on...move home really, back to Texas where she can "be
closer to her family" who live in Houston a mere 2.5 hours away. She
plans on picking out a cute new one bedroom for no more than $700/mo
because that's standard, and getting a freelance job in the industry
just like she did here. Her tone is optimistic and light. She reflects
on the good times had in LA and is hopeful of new adventures before
her. Yet she does have a sad quality in her voice when she says "this
place is crazy though ya know, I feel like the last two years have
been a blur", And I understand what she means. As she said it feels
like you never get any traction in LA, like your always moving and
rather frantic and the highs are really high and the lows are rather
unbearable. Its a funny place this Los Angeles. Full of dreamers and
wish makers; hope and despair share equal sides of the coin. I feel
the city itself is anthropomorphic, a living breathing organism with
character traits and mood swings and everyone has a personal
relationship to it. I wish my friend well, knowing that going back to
her roots will suit her well. It will be safe and yet independent and
all together a good fit for her 6 foot blond varsity volleyball frame.
I can't help thinking I've lost another good one to the holes of LA,
that people come and slip through and don't stick around; but that's
the nature of an animal, its ever changing. So here is to good people
and good times, happy trails and new adventures. May we all be so
lucky to have good friends to say farewell to on our journeys to new
places~ adios Regan Beam.....

There are times when you find yourself in a good place, and you are not sure what is going to happen from there, but at the moment, all is good. The people are good, the mood is good, the conversation is good. I'm working for a band that is so incredibly wonderful, as people, that I am blown away. Which is sad actually. I'm shocked at their warmth, because I've never felt it from a band before...and that's rather sad if you think about it. They laugh, they hang out on your bus to shoot the shit, they ask you how YOU are doing. It's rather odd actually, and I continuously find myself being surprised. But its more than that, as there are many considerate musicians, its the playfulness and family feeling between crew and band. It's the blurring of the lines between the band and the crew in its traditional etiquette. Maybe its because this group of men have been playing together for decades, and have had the same crew for nearly as long. Seasoned is a word that comes to mind. Is that what it takes? To have played the same songs so many times, to have toured so many years, to have seen so many randoms enter and exit different green rooms never to be named and never to be seen again. Perhaps it takes a certian humility, an acknowledgement that you've gone this long, you should be thankful for the gifts your given, the fans you have and the nights you get to play to packed houses. Its like....these guys are living in reality. Its the sense of reality that is often the missing ingredient in the rock star swagger; the air of "I don't care". The confidence in their stare as they come with money signs in tow. Is it their head that wells or is it manahgement who does it to them? or the media? or the fans? We all want to blame someone for the break up of the Beatles, the end of Cream, the fall of Britney, but only beacause they were once so exhaulted that we need answers. It must be a cocktail of various forces at play. However if the artist...can remain an artist....and weather the storm of outside influences..perhaps....they will survive. And to survive, as I have witness over the last few days, looks like a lot of laughter, warm embraces, smiling fans, generations of family backstage, long talks on cool buses in humid climates, and beautiful sunsets during your set to a crowd who cheers for your songs. Doesn't seem all that bad