So those of you who know me know that me saying, "I have a band camping at my apartment," is an unlikely statement to be coming from my lips. I like my privacy. I like cleanliness. And I like quiet. Having a band staying with you will get you none of these. In fact, it will get you quite the opposite.
Like the movie Almost Famous, you might also imagine that a) it's only rock stars who get wasted and have women throwing themselves at the band members, b) all bands have buses and can afford hotels, and c) that this stuff only happens in the movies or is limited to the Rolling Stones. You would be wrong about all three. And that's how I wound up with a band staying at my apartment last night.
It started off simply enough. They were broke and would sleep in their car if they had to in order to get to a gig or a writing session in Nashville. I had a perfectly good floor and couch and found the idea of them sleeping in a car and not showering rather distasteful. They seemed like sweet considerate boys, so why not?
The plan was for them to drive home after their big gig and for the four of them to share a hotel room on the way. The way it turned out was that two of them left and headed back, the third was too drunk to drive and the fourth was ready to go home with a girl he'd just met at the bar that night. It was also raining. What to do, what to do?
For starters, we couldn't let the drunk one drive. That had catastrophe written all over it. As for the going home with stray girls, while it isn't any of my business, are we really sure that it's any safer for guys to do that than girls? Couldn't a girl just as easily be a psycho serial killer as a guy? So in the interest of preventing STD's, DUI's, and possible death, the guys headed back to my place where they could be assured a warm dry place to sleep and a toilet for the drunk one to throw up in...which by all accounts he did.
As I offered them Ibuprofen and Frosted Flakes to start their day off right this morning, they only accepted the former and sheepishly scurried off as fast as their bleary eyes would allow them to get in their car and go. For some reason this amused me.
Now my apartment is blissfully quiet and in need of a good cleaning which is what I will be doing today as I ponder this odd culture that is part of the lifestyle of every band, both known and unknown.
When they get very famous, I might tell you their name. Maybe I'll even be a footnote in their journey. For now I'm happy to have saved them from themselves for a night. My work is done.
Thanks for stopping by...and don't drink and drive.