New Year's Gig Story.... Does This Make Me a Bad Person?

Wow. Now that's a long post. Sorry, people.

So, I get a call Thanksgiving weekend to fill in for a newly-formed band of some really experienced veterans that I've never heard play together, for a New Year's Eve gig. As a couple of my friends/ex-band mates (Band mate... I hate that damn word for some reason) referenced me and gave 'em my name/number as an occasional fill-in that can learn the set list in a quick, professional manner. So, I get a copy of the set list, and some very, very high-quality live recordings to get every, single, solitary, minute detail of every song down, including the all the breakdowns/endings to the songs. So far, so good, right? Hell yes! I'm friggin' stoked, to say the least. This gig feels pretty familiar to my old gig. These guys are all pretty much the same as my old band they're pretty financially well-off, middle-aged veteran musicians that don't quite act their age on occasion, that's got some skills goin' on. And besides, I haven't gigged since the 1st week of April, since "retiring" from the one, single band I played in for 25+/- years of my gigging career. I seriously didn't realize how much I missed this stuff. And, to beat it all, I was jammin' with some strangers. So, to say the least, I'm ringin' in the New Year, makin' myself some easy money, with a band that kicks so hard, that felony charges should be brought forth. And, the monitor/P.A. rig is top-to-bottom, high-grade stuff, that could easily be used in Shea Stadium at "not-so Beatlesque" volumes . I just love overkill when it comes to a high-quality, clean-sounding PA gear, with the mixdown coming from God. It's something that simply cannot be described. A high-quality system with a great soundman can quite possibly give a true musician a boner. It's true, I read it online.
So, what in 'Sam Hell' could ever go wrong? Smooth sailing in the land of gigs and money, I say. That's what it's all about. Cha-ching! What a great start to the New Year. And, with a band that ticks like a high-dollar, bespoke Swiss-made watch. Hey, it's well deserved. These guys work really hard. At life, and music. They friggin' k-i-c-k, for sure. It's just some great rock and funk/R&B music that's played note-for-note. That's really what makes it so damn good.
So, we meet at the club earlier in the evening before the gig to unload gear, set 'er up, and get a quick sound check. The sound check is where I can really tell if a band is a yay, or nay, IME. Everything's running like the space shuttle. These guys got their turds in a herd, for sure.
So, we finish up, and as it turns out, the owner of the club isn't there so, the guys tell me to stash the band's big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner somewhere onstage, until they can ask the owner where we'll be able to hang the beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner before the gig. Which is cool enough. After all, that beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner can be hung up in less than 3 minutes. Like I said, small potatoes, smoooooth sailing.
That is until I unfolded that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner. People, you have to trust in me as to what I'm telling you..... The name (of the band) that my poor soul gazed upon when I unfolded that beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner was ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, THE GOOFIEST, CHEESIEST BAND NAME THAT I HAVE EVER SEEN, OR HEARD. It simply was that bad. No ifs, ands, buts, maybes, or sortas about it. It would be akin to finding someone's head in your 'fridge, when I read the name of the band on that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner . Because suddenly it seemed as if I were in a Seinfeld episode, or something.
Dammit, he always shows up. And, "he", always f**** something up, 90% of the time. You know, that grimy, heartless, sick in-the-head bastard that we all know in life, Mr. Murphy Law. I shiver upon the mention of his name. But somehow, he found out that I had a gig, and showed up as, you guessed it, a beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner . For all of you that's gigged on a steady basis, you know him well. He's the head hell raiser of Murphy's Law, LLC. I'm gonna get that bastard one day, and kick his ass, all for myself. Enough's, enough......

So, I guess you're wonderin' what I did with that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner , huh? Like the true gig warrior that I am, I adapted, and, I overcame. Ya see, I'm smarter than your average bear. Because, I have far too many tricks for this game you mere mortals call 'gigging'. You have got to get up pretty early to get one over on me, when it comes to gigging, pal. But, does tend to happen when you've gigged steadily for 30+/- years. And, for all you young grasshoppers & whippersnappers out there in the trenches, with your minimal experience, you'll eventually learn the ways of the "gig warrior", and get your black belt status, just as I did.
Okay, I'll tell you what I did. I kept that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner hid, right up under the drum riser, and we played without it. That's exactly what I did. There, I said it. Criticize if you like. So, yeah, I hid that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner , like a coward. But, my pride just wouldn't ever let me be caught dead, much less alive, standing under that God forsaken, big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner .

Now, before everybody starts bitchin', just chill out. On occasion, those guys are the house band there, so they're pretty well known in these here parts. No harm, no foul, when it came to that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner debacle that Mr. Murphy thrust upon me.

And, not one of those 500+ people asked where that big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner was. Oh, yeah. The band asked about it. But, I danced around the question and finally 'found' it under the drum riser during tear down. Hmm. Imagine that.
It's stuff like this that makes me wanna go back to playin', but never while standing under a big, beautifully hand-crafted, silken banner.

Peace,
Steve