I remember playing a gig with Bluefire at a friend’s house in Janesville. It was for their 4th of July party and we were set up in a tent in the orchard in their backyard. They had a kiddie pool full of bottles of beer and a fridge full of Jell-O shots. They had also gone to Illinois and bought fireworks in the amount of several hundred dollars and had quite a show prepared. We would start playing about 7:30 PMish and were going to play until sundown. Then the fireworks display and then finish playing until we got tired or the cops were called.
It was an outside gig so there are all sorts of things you have to deal with. The main issue was of course the weather. The sky had some clouds but nothing that looked sinister. The forecast called for scattered showers, which I think they say when they are even less sure of what’s going to happen then usual. Of course three songs into the set it starts to sprinkle. Nothing you could call a shower or even drizzle, just a light, brief, smatter of water from a cloud that was walking to fast with a cup that was too full. We didn’t even stop playing. It lasted maybe 10 minutes. I had been struggling with hay fever all day and was glad for the moisture hoping it would knock down some of the pollen so I wouldn’t have to keep slamming down antihistamines just to make it through the show.
Their property stretched for several acres and they often employed an old golf cart to travel around the grounds. As I mentioned before there was a considerable buffet of alcohol to be had and it was flowing with much ease so when I saw the golf cart hurtling toward the tent we were playing in I became concerned and looked for an escape exit. I have some strange gig stories but being run over while playing “Pink Cadillac” by a drunken golf cart driver in an orchard would be one of the top ones. The driver managed to slide to a “Blues Brothers” style stop and inform us that they would be starting the fireworks in about 15 minutes and that I should make an announcement to that fact and also that I wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet. I told him I would make the announcement, watch the fireworks and proceed to drink myself into a pickled corpse like state. He gave me the thumbs up and careened off into the orchard. In fact, I had not intentions of having anymore alcohol that night because I wanted to drive home to my own bed and sleep away the allergies that had been the bane of my day, but there is no arguing with a drunk, just smile and send them on their way. We made the announcement and grabbed a seat to watch the display. From where we were, we could just make out the site where things were set up; four little figures moving around quite a large banquet of explosives. It’s at this point when I thought about the potential interaction of inebriation and explosives, but there was not a lot I could do except hope for the best.
The first few shots were wonderful, giant, brilliant flowers blooming in the sky. I think it was the fifth or sixth shot we saw the flare of the torch and the fizzle of the fuse and then a little “foop” followed by distant cries of “run away!” “Run away!” It appears as thought our little rain shower disagreed with firework that were already set in place when it happened.
So here is the situation; there are several drunk people standing near a pile of fireworks that have been dampened to where it is unknown if they will light right away, not light at all or stall out and then explode. In the end everything turned out fine. Most of the fireworks went off with out a hitch and if one did “foop” out the guys would scatter and wait to see what would happen and if they remained dormant the guys would proceed with the next show. After the show, they came roaring back on the golf cart to a huge round of applause and the rest of the evening was spattered with cries of “Run Awaaaaayyy!!”
We finished out gig around 1 AM when I no longer could even sing. We packed up the gear and headed on home. Almost everyone there stayed and camped out or slept where they landed but I wanted my shower and bed. And that’s what I got, in addition to a pretty good story.
Thank you, Chris. Once again, your story-telling has plastered a giant grin on my face. I remember some of that night, though not in the detail you do (and, no, it is not just because I finished drinking your share of the alcohol in addition to my own and someone else's). Reading your story, I can vividly hear 2 of the 4 tiny figures (who shall remain nameless) yelling and fumbling over each other for their very lives.
ReplyDeleteNow, if you could just remind me what the Hell happened at the 1999/2000 New Year's gig whilst I was under the heavy influence of allergy/sinus/cold/flu/cough suppressant/cough expectorant over-the-counter self-medication (several times over -- followed by a glass of champagne), I wold be eternally grateful.
~Soulman~