my best music story

You play in bands for some 25 years, you pick up a few good stories.

I played with a rockabilly band for awhile. We had a good run by band standards, I think maybe 2 years, and we worked constantly. Nice bars, crummy bars, theaters, cruise ships, fairs, receptions, it was the most I had worked in a band to that point. This was when swing bands were all the rage, back in the late 90's. It's not bragging to say we were one of the top rockabilly bands in town, and as such we opened for a lot of the regional and national acts that came through town. I had nothing to do with any of this, the singer booked all the shows.

One day he calls me and says we're going to open for Air Supply at a big festival. Cool! Hey, I'm not a huge fan, but whatever, they were a big name. It's important to mention here that the singer and I had problems with directions- he couldn't give 'em, and I can't follow them. More than a few times I was late to the gig because of a screw up with directions, and I was determined to not have that happen this time. He told me "take the turnpike and you'll see the sign for the exit, just follow the sign." What could be easier?

I had my gear ready and we left hours early, anticipating it would take roughly an hour to get to the fairground. Plenty o' time. We're tooling along, me and the missus, happily chatting. I don't see the sign, must be a little farther. 15, 20 minutes later, still no sign, that's odd. Next thing I know, we're down in Miami at the end of the turnpike, dumped off onto US 1. This can't be right. I get someone on my cell phone, sure enough, we missed the exit. Now we have to haul ass back up the turnpike. My nice time cushion is evaporated, but it looks like we should have just enough time to get there. I am a bit worked up by this time, so the missus takes the wheel and I try and calm down.

It takes forever to get back up the turnpike, but we finally find the exit, and we're headed in the right direction, on pace to make it with seconds to spare. I decide to save a little time, I will jump in the back seat to tune up my guitars. Just one small problem-

no guitars.

I left them home. They were right by the front door, and in the rush to get out of the house I somehow forgot my guitars. We are 10 minutes away from our biggest show, and I have no guitar. I turn into Rain Man at this point, mumbling "no guitar, I have no guitar, no guitar..." over and over, like somehow a guitar is going to appear.

We skid into the parking lot, gravel flying, and the band rushes over to the truck to grab the gear. I tell them I don't have a guitar; there was murder in their eyes. Our drummer pointed over to the Air Supply bus and said "Well that guy has a whole bunch of guitars, you better go get one!" We run over there, I ask the guy at the gate "which one is the guitar player?" and he pointed out a bench with a cool looking fellow sitting with an attractive woman, eating some barbeque. I go over to him and say "This is going to sound really stupid, but I am in the opening act and forgot my guitar, and I was wondering if there was any way I could use yours?" He sized me up for what felt like an hour, and finally said "sure mate, go ahead."

So we ran up to the stage, the roadies had already set up my amp and were having a good laugh at the chump who forgot his guitar. I went to the guitar tech and said that the Air Supply guy said I could use his guitar. He said "like hell he did!" We're now in a tug of war over a telecaster, and the announcer is headed to the mic to announce our band. I tore the guitar away, ran to my amp and plugged it in, hoping to god it was in tune, just as the guy said "Ladies and gentlemen, the Retro Rockets!"

It was in tune, we got through the gig with no problems, although I was pretty rattled, not my best performance for sure. The guys were furious at me, and we never did get any other work through that talent agency. Still, after that, I can get through anything.