and i still have the shirt (a flashback)

okay, so to all my loyal readers, my most humble apologies for not writing jack shit yesterday. i DID start to write something, entitled “d.d.h. in da house” with “d.d.h.” of course standing for damn, dirty hippies, which i never finished and quite frankly sounded a little TOO bitter. over the course of working three sold out widespread panic shows, i saw more scams and schemes then i’ve seen in the two years and some change that i’ve been working shows. tonight is the jewel show, which we’re all looking at , by comparison, as a night off.

i’m debating whether or not to go into work at noon tomorrow; while the sleep-in would be cool (although not as much fun as when you do so and you’re NOT alone, but never mind that now..the ONE activity that makes me a morning person) i don’t know if i’m willing to blow off three hours of OVERTIME, which is what all of tomorrow will be; but then i get to go to the gym for the first time in ten days (working five shows after work in a week can effect the workout routine just a bit…but they’re a workout all their own).

a highlight or two (or more):

what does EVERYTHING on this list have in common?

glass beads…hemp jewelry…t-shirts…shoes…tie-dyes…bootleg CDs…bootleg tapes…bootleg videos…’shrooms…weed…bongs…pipes…acid…silver jewelry…hugs…back rubs…neck rubs…foot rubs…soda…cold beer…paintings…$50…hacky sacks…fanny packs…$100…food…$150

answer? all of them were offered at LEAST once in exchange for ONE ticket to ONE of the shows.

which of the following would you NOT try to get into a backyard show if you’re a panic fan with no cash (or at least none you want to spend on a ticket)?

scaling a thirty foot wall?
crawling through a twenty yard ditch run-off pipe that’s blocked with hog wire at the end?
rushing the door security?
crawling through over an acre of densely-thorned woods behind the backstage?
jumping from a fourty foot tree branch?

answer? apparently NONE of the above should be avoided…because they tried them all.

question three: which of the following will a stoned hippy pay for, and then snap back into sobriety when the doorman tells him the reality of his purchase?

a ticket receipt (printed on ticket stock, i’ll grant you…but looks nothing like a ticket)
a ticket copied off at kinko’s
a ticket from the previous night’s show?

answer? ALL of the above…and then they’d come to ME to see if i’d make it right. some of them cried. i was moved. really. why do i have this feeling you all think i’m being sarcastic?

on a more personal note, what did i joke about doing, have every intention of doing, but NOT do due to trying to at least remain SEMI-professional?

walk around wearing soap on a rope ’cause i figured it would be like wearing a cross through a vampire colony?
put speed stick deodorant on each ticket booth counter with little “try me” orange stickers like you see on sample platters at the heb bakery?
bring brass knuckles and severely fuck up the first person who tried to scam me on saturday as a lesson to anyone else who had such an idea?

again, ALL of the above…but i was less serious about the last one. that was said in the heat of the moment.

a few numbers for ya before i go hop in the shower and get ready for the jewel show:

price i had to pay for my cool, dead cow head, backyard commemorative widespread shirt: $0
amount of gleaming examples of why white people SHOULDN’T dance witnessed over three shows: 15,204
number of fake tickets bought by SCALPERS, who should have known better: 32
number of fake tickets popped at the door and NOT allowed in PER NIGHT: 43 (average…and by the drop, NONE made it through…damn those door guys are bad-ass)
and finally, number of stories i can think of off the top of my head that i HAVEN’T written but won’t bother with due to time constraints right now: four
oh yeah, and chance, in percent-form, that i’ll want to do it all again next time panic hits town? 100%

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damn…a weekend wrap-up that doesn’t involve a mention of my name. that breaks a 4 or 5 weekend streak i believe. that means we have to go drink this weekend and REALLY try to fuck something up.