We once had a friend who decided that managing us was going to be his big task. He got us a few gigs around town and out of town close by, and we figured that things were going well. One day, he came to us and said that he'd booked a gig for us in his hometown of Norman, Oklahoma -- about five hours from where we were in Austin, TX. The club was called Cipango (get it? sip and go?) and was run by an old highschool buddy of his. Our manager buddy even lined us up a van so that we wouldn't have to convoy up in our own cars, and he set us up with a room at the local Holiday Inn. He assured us that we'd get paid more than enough to cover our costs. Well, we all took off work and hopped in the van around 1 p.m. and hightailed it to Norman. We arrived around 6 p.m. and finally found the club ... which had no idea we were coming. The manager had pity on us and let us play ... for tips. We counted a total of 4 people in the audience. One of them was a completely drunk redneck who kept asking me if I could play it "funky-like". We were a straight up pop rock band, but luckily "Play that Funky Music, White Boy" was in our repetoire. I think we played it six times that night. Thanks to the waitress, we came away with 20 bucks in tips. What a show!