I never had a lot of money growing up and any coin I collected ended up being spent on drums, cymbals, skateboards, gas or fast food. All were pretty limited due to minimum wage jobs and attending University at the age of 17. It was the same year I sold the chick magnet of a mini-van, a 1992 Voyager so I could afford to go to University.
Even on my 19th birthday I didn't have a drink. I remember being quite proud that I made it through 19 years without a drink in a small town where there wasn't much else to do with your time. I ended up playing a lot of music or driving around. Some (idiot) kids would claim to be "straight-edge" or refuse to use drugs of any kind and stamp that pride on their bodies with ink: "XXX". I never bothered with this claim, as I was always taught: "never say never." Great advice!
Plans were made to break my sober streak on that 19th birthday, however things didn't work out that way. There was a death in the family a day or so before it would have been legally acceptable for me to drink in an establishment. The death really took every desire away from me discovering booze. Instead I was the designated driver for the night and played pool with some friends. I don't think I missed out on much that night.
I had been playing music in bars while underage. It was unknown to those allowing me into the establishment, or the entertainment was worth a blind-eye, or no-one cared. Small towns. I understand those concepts. Being a non-drinker in a bar is like being a vegetarian at a steak house.
Sometimes it is just expected that the band gets free drinks. Even after turning legal age, I passed them up. To be honest, I had bad nerves and I just assumed drinking would aid to worse nerves and terrible playing (…how perspective changes). Also, as the drummer, I often got shafted being the guy having to drive to and from the gig. I didn't mind so much. At least I always knew my gear was safe, smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol. When leaving Jimi Jak's, the local tavern everything, especially the microphones smelt like O'Riley's Barber Shop… the barber was hungover before 11am and drunk again shortly after lunch giving you roughly 2 hours of getting a decent haircut. Who am I kidding?! He only knew how to give buzz-cuts.
(Maybe that is where my fear of haircuts came from? It might explain always having long hair and for a few years massive dreadlocks. White man dreads. I'll never understand.)
Oh! Speaking of a vegetarian in a steak house…(to be continued)
Even on my 19th birthday I didn't have a drink. I remember being quite proud that I made it through 19 years without a drink in a small town where there wasn't much else to do with your time. I ended up playing a lot of music or driving around. Some (idiot) kids would claim to be "straight-edge" or refuse to use drugs of any kind and stamp that pride on their bodies with ink: "XXX". I never bothered with this claim, as I was always taught: "never say never." Great advice!
Plans were made to break my sober streak on that 19th birthday, however things didn't work out that way. There was a death in the family a day or so before it would have been legally acceptable for me to drink in an establishment. The death really took every desire away from me discovering booze. Instead I was the designated driver for the night and played pool with some friends. I don't think I missed out on much that night.
I had been playing music in bars while underage. It was unknown to those allowing me into the establishment, or the entertainment was worth a blind-eye, or no-one cared. Small towns. I understand those concepts. Being a non-drinker in a bar is like being a vegetarian at a steak house.
Sometimes it is just expected that the band gets free drinks. Even after turning legal age, I passed them up. To be honest, I had bad nerves and I just assumed drinking would aid to worse nerves and terrible playing (…how perspective changes). Also, as the drummer, I often got shafted being the guy having to drive to and from the gig. I didn't mind so much. At least I always knew my gear was safe, smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol. When leaving Jimi Jak's, the local tavern everything, especially the microphones smelt like O'Riley's Barber Shop… the barber was hungover before 11am and drunk again shortly after lunch giving you roughly 2 hours of getting a decent haircut. Who am I kidding?! He only knew how to give buzz-cuts.
"Give me a mullet, they are in style!"
-buzz-cut.
"Just a little off the top."
-buzz-cut.
"Just a straight razor shave."
-buzz-cut.
"Flock of seagulls!"
-…buzz-cut.
-"that'll be 7 dollars, and here's a lolli!"
(Maybe that is where my fear of haircuts came from? It might explain always having long hair and for a few years massive dreadlocks. White man dreads. I'll never understand.)
Oh! Speaking of a vegetarian in a steak house…(to be continued)
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