Dispatch No. 11
Episode Two, Roadie Math and The Bandit
Recently released: Produce, Me? | Episode One | Episode Two
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Limited Series
Produce, Me? | Episode Two is now available!
You might have noticed something strange…there are two editions, two different paths. I don’t want to give anything away but strap on your headphones and prepare to get your heart racing (or arms swaying?).
Episode Three drops on Saturday morning.
Non-Sequitur(s)
Breaking Good - During High School I lived with my grandparents. As septuagenarians go, they fell solidly on the normal side of the Idiosyncratic Spectrum1 — except once. Around 5am I awoke to the sound of clarinets, trumpets, quickly followed by an entire orchestra. It was deafening. I stumbled down the hall, bleary-eyed, following the jumping rhythm. There in the living room was my grandfather, wearing socks, Velcro shoes and his tighty-whities. He was cheek-to-cheek with my grandmother in her bathrobe – dancing. I had no words. If I did they couldn’t have heard me anyway. The track? Glenn Miller’s In The Mood.
No Parking - I once drove a box truck full of lighting & sound gear into NYC. I had never been but it was a Wednesday and I figured parking near the Grand Hyatt would be fairly easy. [hold for laughter] Three hours and box of Tums later I found a spot near the hotel. But, only after knocking the mirrors off the bus for the Staten Island Ferry2, strafing the side of an emerald Volvo, taking the bumper off an off-duty cop’s car, and finally, bouncing off the fenders of an armored truck. As I remember this story I think I’m still missing one more maimed vehicle.
The Bandit - My great aunt Georgia had a bar in her house. I think it was once the garage but had been converted and lined with pine panels, including a full bar top. On the wall was a charred, orangey slab of wood with a pinup lacquered to it. The centerfold was straight from the magazine, staple holes and all. Burt Reynolds was the first man I saw naked in public.
Roadie Math - Life as a roadie (ahem, touring road crew) is one of invention. Everything a road crew uses has multiple purposes, by design or happenstance. For instance, stage sets often fold Transformer-style for easy packing at the end of show. And big road cases can easily double as a place to nap (as do lighting trusses, 100-level seats – box seats are better – or even the surprisingly quiet space under the stage ). So, it should come as no surprise that duct tape also has a tertiary3 use as well as a velocity rating4.
This novel use was bequeathed on us when our bus driver, RayBob — his real name — slammed the brakes of our tour bus throwing every door open and waking us in a panic5. To calm us, he hollered, leaning from the drivers seat and around the privacy curtain, “Almost hit a deer!” Then, almost as quickly, followed up with “Shit! Window’s popped out!”
RayBob managed to save the window by holding it with one hand and steering the bus safely to the shoulder. Minutes later, ten or so roadies attempted to engineer a reasonably-safe mounting method in the middle of the night. RayBob, to his credit, was quite familiar with big vehicle breakdowns. As a seasoned driver, he had a knack for roadside repairs using whatever he could find. His solution: 2” duct tape. Sitting on shoulders we heaved the window in place, while another group ran a length of duct tape around the edges creating a seal. The master stroke, though, was in the math. A single length of 2” duct tape, according to RayBob, was good up to 50mph…but our bus often rolled faster6. That meant two, or even three, overlapping lengths at each seal gave us enough surface area for the fuzzy math equivalent of 100mph velocity. And he was right. The next night, the show did indeed go on.
RayBob would be proud I’m passing along his wisdom. Having heard this he’d also be arguing for “danger pay” (in arrears), a few more ¢ per mile and publishing rights to this story. But, he’d be chuffed, nonetheless.
Music
Second Rhythm - Drahla
Spot Dog - The Japanese House
Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats
Smile - David Gilmour
Happiness Is A Warm Gun - The Breeders
Words
Totally pulled that from my arse.
The driver swore at me in, I think, Swahili
Yes, velocity — speed + direction. Fight me.
On a tour bus, every passenger in a bunk sleeps with their feet toward the driver for exactly one reason: neck injuries are bad.
Called “flying low” in driver parlance
I mean, In The Mood is a legit danceable tune. Props to your G-parents for, um, exposing you to the benefits of Big Band at a young, tender age.