The tour had been going well when we pulled up in our sprinter in front of the Grosse Freiheit on the infamous Reeperbahn in Hamburg, Germany. However something had been building underneath, ever so slowly. That would be the tour manager of the headlining band (whom I will just refer to as TM)—and his intense dislike for our band. It started with not allowing us to crash for a quick rest on some couches in London (after our redeye flight from the states); to moving us into a carbon monoxide dressing room where the promoter advised us that "we should keep the door open, if we didn't want to get poisoned"; to asking us to shorten our thirty minute set time; and to a host of other minor things that we shrugged off to TM's sour disposition and dislike of our band.
The beginning of the day started like the rest: load in, soundcheck, and a nice meal. We played a rocking show, although Joe was a bit tipsy by the end of our set as he had dragged a bottle of Jack Daniels on the stage. TM appeared as our last note rang out and yelled at Stan, our tour manager, because we had gone over by "one minute" and said, "don't let it happen again". Then TM disappeared down the stage stairs yelling at a club worker who was smoking too close to him backstage.
We were staying at a flat in the neighborhood so after the show we loaded all our equipment into the van, checked to make sure the headliner's tour bus had room to get around us, and headed out to see what the night had to offer for fun. We found a bar with a nice Arabian dancer in a white go-go outfit and matching boots dancing around on a pole, and good beer. The dancer stopped in front of me and asked, "Are you guys in a band?" She started chatting when I told her what I played in the band. She kept hugging and kissing me saying, "so cool"—until the guys started yelling at me to let her dance. We got into tour drinking mode (drinking as much as you can) until I was too wasted to even sit in the stool at the bar. Stan escorted me back to the flat, and we left Joe and Chick to their own rock and roll adventures on the infamous street where pretty much anything is possible and legal.
At 4:30 in the morning a series of banging doors leading up to our flat opened one by one, signaling trouble approaching. That trouble appeared as Joe, who came bursting into the flat screaming, "It's bad man. Bad man! OH shit! FUCK!!!!!!." After several minutes of drunken swearing, Stan finally got Joe to tell us what happened. It seems that as Joe and Chick criss-crossed the streets on the Reeperbahn in a drunken stupor they ran straight into TM in front of the Gross Freiheit. TM approached Joe and Chick and informed them that he was going to have our van towed because they couldn't get their bus around our van.
This led to Chick sprawling his body across the back of our van saying, "If you do, you'll have to tow me too." And he lit up a cigarette and smoked a puff into TM's angry face. Then Joe's drunkenness got the best of him and he got right up in TM's face and said, "Why the fuck would you do that? We have no money? That's just fucked up. And besides you can get around us. Fuck you man!" A crowd of crew members from the club began to gather around Joe and TM. The tension was building. "I'll slash all your fucking tires man! You fucking DICK!"
TM turned bright red and said, "You are not welcome in Berlin. You're off the tour." Then Joe ran over to the big tour bus and smashed his fist up against the tour bus screaming, "FUCK YOU!!!!" Immediately the crew dragged Joe away until he shook them loose and ran away. Alcohol can make you super human, or at least feel that way. Stan and I were amazed in Joe's stupor that he had successfully opened all four doors leading up to the flat. He was stinking drunk but amazingly still coordinated—and Joe's punching hand was swollen Frankenstein style. Superhuman drunk drummer with Frankenstein hand, grabbed Stan with his good hand and off they went.
By the time Stan and Joe arrived at the scene of the crime, only Chick was left smoking another cigarette leaning up against the van. The tour bus was gone. It seems they had had plenty of room. It seems that TM just needed to be, well just a dick.
When we showed up in Berlin, TM had made sure we were not welcome. He took away our rider and made sure we didn't get any food or water to drink. The promoter apologized profusely to Stan saying he felt like his hands were tied. Then TM had the balls to ask Stan in the middle of our set if we could end our set ten minutes early so they could get on with podcasting the headlining band's show. Stan smiled at him and said, "No. We really can't." And for once, TM had no power and he walked away defeated.
We had a nice dinner that night in Berlin and celebrated never having to see TM again. Ahh, it's only rock and roll but I like it. Yes I do. I DO!
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