The Stories From The Road
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We recently took some road trips, playing shows in places like Ft. Lauderdale and St. Petersburg. The shows were great, but some of the other stuff that happened was so annoying, embarrassing, frustrating, exciting, etc...that we just had to tell someone about it. This is the true story of nine guys picked to be in a band and have their lives taped, blah, blah, blah.

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Ft. Lauderdale, FL 1/31/97
We were supposed to meet at Paul's house at 6pm the day before the show to make the 6 hour drive down together. Part of the hassle of being in a band is that not one of us is old enough to rent a van. Bighead and I were like, "Forget that noise!" We left at like 2:30pm. Justin ended up leaving around 4 I guess, and Paul, Jared, Nate, B.J., and Tim took off as well. As usual, Scott was nowhere to be found. When the band shows up at The Edge (which is now closed) around 5pm the next day, Scott is still unaccounted for. We go inside, meet The Double Agents, talk to some of the guys in Mustard Plug, and figure we'd just play the show without Scott. Who needs two trumpets, anyway... We started loading equipment, and who should show up... Scott walks up, out of the blue, "Hey guys!" We didn't ask where he had been. We didn't want to know.
The show rocked. About 500 punk kids, Skinheads, Sharps, and Rudies got the place jumping. Mustard Plug rocked the house, the Double Agents were the coolest, and we were ready to party. After the show we hauled ass to the hotel for Papa John's and beverages. A job well...done. Next time we'll try to keep track of bandmates.

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St. Petersburg, FL 3/22/97
Bighead and I were in Gainesville the night before, and drove down with our friend Skyler Stone. He's in a band called Minoritiez (hip hop, metal, ska, techno). They're cool. We left early to go check out the local record stores, hit Denny's for a bite to eat, and hit the road. We got to St. Pete at like 4pm, hours before we were due at the club. When we stopped to ask directions to the State Theatre, Bighead had to tell the guy about his stinky nutts. (He bleaches them, you know.) After reaching the State Theatre and realizing that no one was home, we decided to walk down the street and check out some of the thrift stores we passed by. We went into McCrorys to kill time. The place reminded me of a run-down dollar store. I think everything really was a dollar! We bought big bouncy balls, hoping to throw them at the crowd later that night. Walking around downtown St. Pete is alot more fun with big bouncy balls. Skyler and Bighead almost got run over about 10 times, and I kept annoying people bouncing that damn ball.
Bighead was hungry, as always, so we drove to find a Burger King. We could not find that joint, so once again, we asked directions, having to mention our stinky nutts. We finally. found the place, 30 minutes out of town. After some grease burgers, we went back to the club and met the sound guy. We were informed that our bouncy balls were not allowed in the club, becuase of the multi-million dollar lighting system. We were so disappointed, we invented the Double Deckers' gang sign. We're eager to get involved in the East Coast-West Coast dispute in any way we can. The rest of the band eventually showed up, we met Julio from The FL Ska Web Page, The guys from Skahumbug (Get well Brian) and the Rugcutters. The show began....
It seemed like it took a while for the 300+ crowd to get warmed up, but in the middle of the set, they turned on that mutli-million dollar lighting system, and the whole place cranked it up a notch. The disco ball was spinning, the crowd was dancing, and I was skanking onstage. Little did I know, my feet were not as in tune with the situation. I lost my footing during Skarracuda, sending my forehead dierctly into the headstock of Paul's guitar which was actually Tim's very valuable 1967 Fender Mustang). At first I was dazed, and just stopped playing. That shit hurt! But, I regained my groove and bumped into Paul again to make it seem as though I meant to do it. After the show, I had a huge bump on my forehead. We hauled ass to Scott's house for Spaghetti that his mom made for us. (THANK YOU!) We made it back to the show to catch the other bands and pick up Paul after finding that you can't buy beer after 12. That is slack. Denied, we skanked around for a while, then left. We fell asleep on Scott's floor, woke up the next day, and headed out. We learned that to find a Burger King in St. Pete, you have to drive for a half an hour, all the stores close at 4, and freestyle walking really is a sport.

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