When you think you've seen it all...

Think again!

Last night I filled in for a friend that is recovering from recent heart surgery. I played a mid-size Italian restaurant for some folks that really enjoy dancing and kept the dancefloor packed throughout the evening.

While setting up I noticed nearly every wall outlet had one of those small air freshening devices, you know, the kind that heats up a tiny bulb of scented oil and keeps the room smelling like a house of ill repute. One was a few feet behind my chair, and you could clearly see where it had been leaking on the tile floor. Not a big puddle of oil, but enough to cover a spot about 6-inches in diameter.

At the end of the job I saw that some of the oil had dripped onto my main AC plug where it connected to my heavy-duty extension cord. Everything appeared OK, and I wiped the oil off the plugs with a couple napkins before packing the gear in the bags.

Today, when I set up to do another job, I noticed the plug looked different when the console was being removed from the bag. Careful inspection revealed the plug was completely destroyed, apparently eaten away by being in contact with the scented oils.

I made the best of things by cutting and splicing the wires with my pocket knife, then taping the connection with duct tape. This got me through the job without any problems.

When I got home I replaced the plugs, both of them, buttoned things back up and tested the entire system--just be on the safe side. Everything worked just fine.

It's hard to concieve how this happened--but it certainly taught me a lesson. I always carry a spare entension cable in the van, along with spare mic, and lots of other spares--just to be on the safe side. I just added a spare surge protector to the list, which is where the plug that was destroyed was connected.

Just another fun day in Paradise!

Gary

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Travlin' Easy

Funny story! Who else would be best suited for this to happen to and come up with the remedy in light speed? God knows it had to happen to the wizard

Gary,
As always, an excellent tip.

And I always wondered what a house of ill repute smells like ...

Now I know !!!

Ed,

One of my first paying gigs was in Barcelona, Spain in 1957. I was a skinny kid in the U.S. Navy and a member of a three-piece R&R band. The guy that formed the band lined up the jobs, one of which was in a dimly lit hotel pub that was filled with sailors and ladies. Downstairs where we performed was a long bar, however, the majority of the folks tended to gather in what looked like a large, livingroom. The place smelled like someone had dumped a bottle of perfume on the floor. I later found out why so many sailors wandered upstairs, then came back with a big grin on their face and looking a bit disheveled. It was a neat job, didn't pay very much, but the booze was free.

Cheers,

Gary

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Travlin' Easy

Only the booze was free...?

You needed a better agent!

Diki,
I'm sure Gary's agent was doing his best (upstairs every night) tryin to negotiate fringe benefits.

Gary, you were on the guitar in that band, right?
What kind of requests come out of a gig like that?

If it was the sailors, probably "Sixty Minute Man"

If it was the girls, probably "Sixty Second Man"

Ed,

We did songs like Shake Rattle & Roll, some Chuck Berry stuff, doo-wap, a mix of everything that would pack a dancefloor. We stayed pretty busy, but back then one job a week was considered pretty good, especially if you were a swabbie. And, as the booze flowed those gals began looking a lot better than when we walked in the door. As the night wore on, though, they got a bit more homely lookin'. By the end of the night reality struck and you soon realized that some were a lot older than you first thought. It was really neat watching all those drunk sailors trying to pick up gals that put their makeup on with a cement trowell. By the end of the week they were all on some sort of antibiotics and restricted to the ship.

Those were the days,

Gary

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Travlin' Easy

I've got a great story to relate to you guys. The years were 1967 and 1968. The place was Key West, FL and the dance hall was Mallory Square. For those of you who have been down there for the sunset, it's the red brick building with all of the Cuban memorabilia. Back in the day the hall was empty and that was where we had our teenage dances.

Well, we would have 300 to 400 locals and usually a few sailors would wonder in. As soon as one of the sailors would ask a local girl to dance, a fight would break out. We had a local cop who always worked these dances whose name was Luis Cuervo. None of us knew him by this name, his local nickname was Sweetwater. He was born in a town in Cuba named Agua Dulce which means Sweet water and so, his name.

He would come up on the stage and get everyone back in line including throwing out of the place anyone he had to. Then the evening would go on with no more problems. Everytime I go back there, I relive one of these evenings. It was an amazing time.

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Songman55
Joe Ayala

[This message has been edited by Songman55 (edited 08-19-2008).]

[This message has been edited by Songman55 (edited 08-19-2008).]