Monthly Archives: April 2014

Adventures of Touring with a Rock Band – Part 10

A very wise person I know, while speaking of life while touring, once said that days off are for laundry and pretending like you have friends.  Yes, sir.  He is absolutely right.  As I have stated many times in the past, everyone who makes their living by being on the road is an absolute lunatic.  I blame laundry for part of this.  Fuck laundry.  Things like laundry, brushing your teeth and changing clothes, which are simple tasks in the normal world, are a goddamn nightmare as a roadie.

Depending on what type of tour you’re on, some of the venues provide laundry machines, but if you’re at a venue, that means you’re at work, and laundry gets skipped on the priority list.  So, when we have a day off, a “shower room” is booked.  All this means is that we park the bus at a hotel, and use one of the rooms to take turns showering.  I’d like to add to my friend’s wise words, that days off are also for pretending like you know what’s going on in the world.  During my few minutes of privacy for showering, I also take advantage of a functioning television (bus tv’s seem to be non-functional half of the time.  I’m not complaining however, I live at home without a tv), and flip to CNN or MSNBC (because Anderson Cooper and Rachel Maddow are sexy) and attempt to catch up on current events.  Oh!  We’re still talking about the Malaysian plane?!  Fucking sweet!  I haven’t missed out on much!  Anyway, we also use the hotel for laundry amenities but why… I have no idea.

I don’t know why that EVERY SINGLE TIME we stroll up to a hotel and I begin laundry, that I honestly believe that this errand will only take an hour and a half.  I figure 30 minutes wash and 45 to dry… plus in and out time.  This formula never happens.  Why I have not adjusted the formula… I don’t know.  I need to take 30x+45y=forever.  Basically, there is no constant in the laundry formula, only variables.  Hotels that state they have laundry, could mean that they have exactly one washer and one dryer and both don’t work.  We were staying in a hotel that must have had 1,500 rooms, I swear to God I’m not exaggerating.  It was huge.  And they had exactly one washer and one dryer.  I thought the Mexican Housekeeper whom I asked where more laundry was, just didn’t understand me, so like an asshole, I kept repeating, “No, where in the entire hotel is there more laundry?” ASSUMING that each of the six buildings on the property had laundry.  Nope.  Well fuck me.  I had to wait for some gross pre-teen traveling basketball team to get their nappy neon colored uniforms out of the wash before I could discover that the washer didn’t spin anyway.  It simply filled with water, and made the sounds like it was spinning, but didn’t actually spin.  Awesome.

I proceeded to rinse the clothes by hand out of a fucking garden hose that I luckily found outside, and then hang my shit to air dry on the bus windshield wipers and bay doors.  (Tip for fellow roadies!  Lay wet stuff next to the generator under the bus.  It dries in half the time).  If you pass by a tour bus that has a Deftones t-shirt, aerie underwear and levi’s decorating the outside, honk because it’s probably me and my bad luck.  I’ll be the girl outside, drinking a beer that I didn’t originally want, but now feel I deserve, due to this laundry fiasco that has turned into an entire afternoon.

To add to the days off quote, “pretending like you have friends” means, call all of the amazing people in your “real life” that have been trying to get a hold of you, but you have not been able to answer because the music is always so effing loud that there is no point in attempting a conversation.  Calling for casual conversation on the bus doesn’t happen either, because you’re then forcing everyone to listen to your talk.  But!  Calling on a day off, even though that is on the “things to do” list, it often get skipped because you had to take so much time doing bullshit like laundry, finding a nearby Wells Fargo and paying bills online.  This is no excuse.  You’re still an asshole because you probably could have called them on a working day when you had that free half of an hour… but you didn’t because you’re too busy going for a walk or grabbing lunch at a local place so that when someone asks you if you’ve been to fucking Paducah, KY  you can say yes and not feel like it’s a lie.  “Oh yeah!  Paducah!  I went into this coffee shop there for five minutes once.  It was great!”  When we get to a new city and I don’t leave the venue (which happens more often than not) I don’t feel like I have actually been to the city.

So, days off in the touring world are designated to laundry, current events, washing hair, not calling friends/family and inevitably walking around a mall because there’s nothing else nearby to do.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Adventures of Touring with a Rock Band – Part 9

One of the most interesting things about the touring lifestyle, is that you get to know people backwards.  You meet them, and then are living together, so you learn about their weird nuances before you learn about the basics.  For example, I’ve been on the road with this band for about three weeks.  The drummer, who I know well enough to know that he is simply a beautiful human being, I only learned yesterday that he is from Washington.  However, I know that he puts way too much french vanilla “International Delight” in his coffee, I know that he can roll a joint in less than 30 seconds, and I know what he looks like in the morning.  I knew all of this before I knew where he friggin lives.

Our lead singer, who is ironically the most quiet person on the bus, I only just learned is fucking married.  I knew that he wears Spiderman pj’s to bed, and that he only enjoys reading non-fiction books and that he puts vaseline on  his neck everyday, but I didn’t even know that he is married.  I knew what The female lead singer looks like crying, before I even knew what her last name was.  I know that she buys cute red underwear by the pack and that she wears her hair in braids to bed, but I still have no idea if she even has any brothers or sisters.

I know that Marco, the bass player, throws EVERYTHING away.  He wakes up in the morning, and if your stuff looks like it could be even remotely parishable, he tosses it if it is in his path.  I know that he has intestinal problems, and stays up until 5am playing video games, but I don’t even know if his parents are alive or if he has a girlfriend.  My point, you get to know people backwards.

On the road, everyone is at their worst.  I look like a goddamn scrub everyday.  While I am normally into looking good, busting out some black heels on occasion and attempting to be attractive… on the road, that doesn’t exist.  So these people know me on a whole different level than most.  I normally keep to myself, and I’d say that I have a lot of secrets.  After knowing this crew for only two weeks, they know things about me that my best friends don’t even know.  They know that I like eating oatmeal out of a mug, that I only wash my hair every four days, that I wake up every morning at 4:00am and read for two and a half hours because I can’t sleep.  They know that my toenails are too long, that I don’t wear bras and that I am a badass with a box-cutter, but I don’t even think they know how to spell my first name.  They probably don’t know that I have a sister, or what I went to college for, and they definitely don’t know if I am in love or if I ever have been… but they know that I had a fucking anxiety attack just from being back in LA for a day, and they know that I can drink a pint of whiskey and have little side effects.

Touring is a weird existence… but I love it.  Let me know if you have any questions about the lifestyle!

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Adventures of Touring with a Rock Band – Part 8

Back on the road, with a metal band this time.  Although it’s not exactly my kind of music, I am in love with them because they are just such good people.  We are the headliner’s, but there are three other bands on the tour package.  The second band on the bill, is a metal band from NYC.  After load out the other night, I was chatting with them outside of the buses, and they invited me onto their bus to smoke.  Mind you, I very rarely smoke weed, but I figured why not?  I can’t even remember the last time I did, and it would be a fun bonding session.  On to the back lounge.  If you’ve ever been on a tour bus, you know that the back lounge is a tiny little maybe 6×6 room.  There were seven of us crammed in there passing around joint after joint.  They also had some sort of other smoking contraption which they passed it to me and I was like, “I don’t even know what to do with that thing…” so I stuck with the joint.  I only took two hits because like I said, I don‘t smoke often so two and I am golden.  Well, being in that hot box… two and I was retarded.

Some sort of banter took place, where the word “fag” was thrown in.  I hate that word, so I may have literally cringed.  The lead singer (who is the one who invited me to this session) went along to say, “I’m just kidding… we’re LGBT friendly here.  He (pointing to the sound guy) is transgender and I’m post-op.”  WHAT?!  Now, let’s rewind and let me try to paint you a picture.  These are metal dudes.  Haven’t showered in days, silver rings on every finger, PBR drinking, buy coke from groupies, has a different girl everyday, DUDES.  So here I am, HIGH AS FUCK, trying to figure out if these two guys used to be girls.  They are all being fun high people, laughing… carrying on, and I am just trying to not to lose my goddamn mind.  I could not keep up with their conversation at all.   So now, along with attempting to not freak out and pretend to know what the fuck they’re all talking about, I’m also looking for clues.  I was checking for adam’s apples’, feminine hands, breasts, looking at their crotches, etc.  Like a total asshole, I was just sitting there staring, trying to decide if he was just kidding, or if they were actually born females.  Then, the most masculine looking guy of them all, starts putting his head on the [supposed] transgender’s shoulder.  Now I’m really confused.  That’s cool if some gay romance is taking place, but hold on, if he was transgender, he’d be straight!  He would be into girl’s!  Yet he was letting this guy rest his head cutely on his shoulder.  Maybe it was just simple band commradere?  Maybe they’ve just spent so much time in close quarters together that a head on the shoulder is not a big deal.  Maybe?  Maybe they were just retarded high too?  But regardless, they are all incredibly hospitable and cool cool people.  Bus call approached, and I walked back to my bus.

My tour manager began giving me shit about hanging out with the “support band,” saying rubbish like, “You were concerned about appearing to be a lot lizard* last night, and yet you’re going back to the other band’s bus.”  I played into it at first because I thought he was kidding, so I went with the joke saying, “Yeah… I took all of them at once.”  After a minute or so, I realized that he was fucking serious.  He was actually irritated at me for hanging out with the other band!  I felt like saying, “would this even be an issue if I was a boy?” but, I was so high, that I was worried I was being paranoid.  Instead of standing up for myself, and calling him out for being a dick (which would be normal Caitlin behavior), I awkwardly said NOTHING and went into my bunk.  I decided to asses the situation in the morning when I was of sober state of mind.  Morning arrived, and I decided that 1.) My TM was in fact annoyed, but I was definitely blowing it out of proportion in my high mind that night.  2.) I could not have been more off in my absurd suspicions about the metal dudes once having vaginas.  Now that I know them even better than I did that night, I laugh out loud at the thought of me actually taking that notion seriously for an entire evening.  3.) I suck at being high.

*lot lizard- noun.  Truck stop whore.  Literally.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,