Tuesday, February 13, 2007
So Ridgecrest...I do not honestly recall the name of the club or much about it, other than one simple fact...the hotel was literally less than 100 feet from the club. This will become hilarious later on.
Ridgecrest is a Navy town I think. There is a giant fence out on the edge of town, and signs that indicate Navy base stuff...but honestly there is no ocean, so no ships. There did not appear to be any Top Gun type of stuff, so no fighter planes. But the Navy is going to do what the Navy is going to do.
I have been rooming with Derek on the trip, and Derek is a pretty good guy. Remarkably resillient in the morning, and has the ability to move quick, and I think he is still sound asleep. Derek is the merch crew guy on the trip, and honestly I do not know him all that well, but he seems nice. Boy cannot handle his drink though.
So we get to the club, and it is a huge joint. Like a barn/pool hall/American Legion type of thing. Nice stage, and we get to use the PA. Bartender lady was really "friendly". And the boys are feeling good. So this is a good time.
The show came off without a hitch, and Scott and the guy finally pulled out Wicked Grip for me, after hearing so much about it from CE Hanifin. What a ballsy song, and Richard and Tom walk through it with the amazing power that is the Scott Holt band.
So now we get into some road gossip. The juicy stuff. The show came off, and were hanging out, and loading out to the van. Everyone is cool, and Derek is off with the ladies as he likes ot be. I think Scott and I spent the time talking about what the hell CRUNK is, and how to get Crunk.
The van loaded. We walk back to the hotel, Derek stays at the club. About 3 am, no Derek, I do not care. The boy has a key, and can handle his own. I need something to drink, and there is a gas station a block away.
I step out of the hotel, and the streets are dark. This is a desert town, nothing going on. I see the gas station is closed, and I see a man stumbling around in the street. Alone. I take a better look, its Derek.
I am a bit confused, he is going away from the hotel, the wrong direction, toward the cold desert. I yell, "Hey Derek!!!" the boy turns, and falls. BOOM.
Gets up, and says "Oh there you are, I was looking for you."
This is funny because this was a night we sat around and talked about Eddie Van Halen and his porn career for a few hours at the hotel, so he was not looking for me.
He stumbles back over, and asks if I have 15 dollars, never explaining why. There are NO OTHER PEOPLE AROUND AND NO OPEN BUSINESSES. Maybe he got a parking ticket.
I get him back, and I take a shower, and Derek is out in his bed. Snoring.
Heres the thing, if you step out the front door of the club, and turn left. Walk 100 feet, you will literally run directly into the hotel. THEY ARE THE SAME PARKING LOT.
Gotta love the road.