Not in Time for Anaheim

After all my jabbering about my love of doing live shows yesterday, guess what happened last night? Yeah, I missed the show. This was do to a number of factors. The first; I live 90 miles from Anaheim, the town where we were supposed to play at. On a traffic free day, that’s about and hour and half drive. On a traffic-ridden day, 2-3 hours drive. On a rainy night in a state where drivers don’t see much rain, an eternity. These nut jobs’ brains must be solar powered because as soon as the sun is covered up they disengage all common sense, and drive like 80 year old grannies. Everyone either drives 20 mph or 90mph. There is no medium. On my way down I witnessed 3 hydroplane accidents. Statistically, collisions were up 100% in the last 24 hours. So aside from trying to survive the I-5 Demolition Derby, I was already late because I didn’t get out of work until 5pm and the show started at 7:30pm. Once I was out of work I had to pick up my fiancé, stop by my house, get gas, get in a fight with my fiancé (a whole other story), drop her back off and go to the bank. As much as the freeway was a mess, the city streets are even worse so I wasn’t even on the road until 6pm. I drove all the way there and then the fun began. I finally got there at 8:30. Not bad considering. As I pulled into the parking lot I thought it was strange that none of my surely anxious band mates were outside waiting for me. When I got out of the car I heard the sound of a band playing and in my stupidity was relieved because I thought that meant some other band was playing. I walked up to the box office and explained my situation to the green haired man.
"Hey, I’m in one of the bands. I’m the singer but I’m kinda late."
"Your band just got done playing!"
I assumed he was doing one of those things were you trick someone at first and then when they believe you, you tell them your kidding.
"You’re kidding, right?"
"No, man. They just finished their last song of an instrumental set."
"Oh my gosh…"
"I’ll give you a wrist band if you want."

Thankfully my gracious band was not to pissed off. In trying to make up for it in anyway I could I helped them dismantle the equipment and pack up. I’m an idiot. Oh well. I hear it was a good show. And I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Movie: Big Daddy