A: Absolute fucking disaster!
Don't get me wrong - the performances were all badass. The Hatchet Wounds opened with their darkish twang, and their hot (musically, though she is rather easy on the eyes) bassist. We followed with our short set, complete with the usual coterie of screaming and bouncing lunatics we proudly call our fans! The Go Go Ghouls shook their groove thangs after our set. Straight outta the OC, The Irish Bros were next, but I missed most of them (more on that later), followed by the greaser-licious sounds of DragStrip Riot.
The club was cool too. From the balcony over the side of the stage, to the curtains, to the history of the building, to the fantastic staff - kudos all around.
The problems stemmed from various instances of poor judgement in the crowd, and in the crowded streets of Pioneer Square. Hmm....where to begin? Oh yeah - my stalker! Someone I had a very brief (less than 2 weeks) involvement with months ago was in the crowd. The reason the involvement was so brief was due to her seemingly complete lack of touch with reality, and her penchant for insane rambling voice mail messages. She's even posted on this site to try to get me to be with her again. In case this person is reading this (and I know you R), I'd like to request that you stay away from anywhere you think I may show up, delete my phone number, stay off this site, stop glaring psychotically at my friends, and most of all get some help. There's no need to write, call, or whatever to let me know you've got the message (which for some reason you continue to ignore.) I have absolutely no desire for further contact with you in any way, shape, or form. In other words, kindly back the fuck off!
Then immediately after walking off stage I was informed a friend was puking in the bathroom, and would probably need a ride home. The situation had potential for fatality due to a pre-existing medical condition, and the person informing me of the situation didn't realize its severity. I grabbed the microphone between songs in the Irish Bros' set, asking if there was a doctor in the house. Fortunately, there happened to be a nurse right next to me (in a CBGBs shirt no less!) who assessed the situation while awaiting response from a call to 911. I'm pleased to report the subject has made an almost complete recovery, except for the residual effects of mortifying embarrassment.
After taking my friend home, I returned to the club. A stiff drink later, I walked the Go Go Ghouls to their car. It was like running a gauntlet through a sea of drunken imbeciles making crude remarks and generally disrespecting these women. You know the types - frat boys, homeboys, street urchins, and various other assorted mental defects. Also on the way, a black guy with long dreads was having trouble hailing a cab. He asked me if I could help. I obliged, and immediately a cab slowed down and moved to collect me. I pointed to the black guy, who started in the direction of the cab. The cab immediately leaned on the gas, leaving us all in his wake. Anyone who tells you Seattle is a more evolved city, with a reputation for tolerance, respect, and acceptance should take a stroll through Pioneer Square at night.
Upon returning to the club, I noticed a shitload of cops and emergency vehicles. They were surrounding a minivan with a blown out tire, and had one of the passengers, a young black kid, face down on the pavement. As it turns out, the passengers of the minivan, among them a friend's son and nephew, had been shot. I wonder - why would they have the guy who just got shot on the pavement like HE was the criminal? Hmmmm.... Anyway, if anybody saw anything that could shed any light on what happened, please contact the proper authorities.
On a positive note, I'd like to thank our friends and fans for once again helping us rock the house. I'd also like to thank Mark for his help with our drunk friend. The staff of Doc Maynard's gets a big gold star for their even handed handling of various heinous situations. Tiffany and her naughty Catholic friends were a big help as well, and looked maaahhvelous. Adrian once again made us sound great. Most of all, I'd like to thank the nurse in the CBGBs shirt for dropping everything and helping my friend. I never got your name, but should our paths cross again, the drinks are on me.
Nights like these you wish you could forget. Unfortunately I'll remember this forever.