ROAD RASH: SPECIAL EDITION

Barrymore Theater Bus Trip, 10/16/98

Guest Author: Patrick Russell

Man... The Tragical History Tour. I'm kinda glad to just be alive at this point. The show (what little we bus riders got to see of it) was good. Unfortunately it was overshadowed by that hell-ride we took to get there. I don't know who this guy was who set the bus ride up, but MAN... he ain't getting a lick of return business from me, that's for sure! The bus was at least an hour late picking us up in the first place, and when it DID finally show up it turned out not to be the chartered bus with a shitter that we were led to believe, but a school bus driven by Miss Crabtree on her fifth case of Wild Turkey. I knew we were in trouble when she opted not to pull off at a roadside rest stop but instead proceeded to drive about 45 minutes out of our way so we could all hop out and piss on the side of a bank! And I can imagine what a pleasant treat that must have been for those of us aboard who lacked a directional spout.

So there we were, ready to get to the show and boogie, some of us with some nice spore action going in our heads, and by the time we pull up the first set is already history. What a treat for us! It then took another ten minutes of waiting around for Brad to get his shit together and deal with tickets for all of us. We got inside just in time for the second set to start (which was really good, I do want to say. First time I've heard you guys while tripping and I tell you what, the bridge between China Cat and Rider was the real deal. It almost made up for what had come before, but couldn't begin to compensate for what was to follow...)

We managed to herd our drunken, tripping asses back onto the Magic Bus in fairly short order after the show... no easy task, mind you! There were several of us who were quite honestly contemplating stowing away in the equipment van and round-tripping it to Cinci and back among the amps and power cords rather than get back on that bus, but... well, the path of least resistance beckoned and we hopped back onto our paid-for mode of transportation. And about ten minutes outside Madison we realize that the our 180 proof driver was passed out and Brad (who was a few dozen sheets to the wind himself) was driving the fucking bus! I was seriously ready to plant my foot halfway up that cat's ass at that point. When he was looking for a place to rent this so-called "chartered bus", did he just throw a dart at the phone book or something? So those onboard who were in a condition to deal with it (and by that point there weren't many of us, nor should it have been necessary for any of us to have to take control of the situation in the first place) got the driver hopped up on coffee and back behind the wheel. The topper was when she passed word back to the rest of us asking for any speed or coke we might have on us so that she could clear her head... if I had had any I sure as fuck wouldn't have wasted it on her! So anyhow, we ended up getting back to civilization at about 4 in the morning... exhausted and pissed off, but alive.

See you all Tuesday... and I'll find my own way to the gig.