I was recently chatting with the guitar player from my old college band, and we were talking about how we were amazed at the fact that we were still alive after some of the crazy gigs we played. I had such a great time talking to him, I thought I'd share my favorite story. We played quite a few fraternity parties for good money. I'm not a big fan of fraternities, but I say live, and let live, and their checks usually clear. One time, we were asked to play a show near Cairo, GA. Anyway, the party took place about 5 hours from Athens where we all lived. It was the middle of July. Anyone who has been in GA in July knows that it is about 100 degrees in the shade on a good day. As we drove to the spot, we were "lucky" enough to get caught in a torrential downpour for most of the trip. It stopped about 30 minutes before we got there. We get to the address they gave us, and it turns out the place is a Plantation that was around during the Civil War. They proceed to show us where to set up--turns out we are playing on the front steps of this giant Antibellum mansion. It's about 95 degrees, and the rain has made the air so damp that I can't even wear my glasses because they keep fogging up. We were all a bit fogged up from the drive, too, if you know what I mean.... After dealing with the fact that we have 2 outlets to run the PA, Keyboard, and three amps, we are as ready to go as we are going to be. One of the first times I was truly thankful I had my Rockwood necked Curbow--the guitar player kept complaining about how his tele's neck was sweating. It starts to get dark, and the guests start to arrive. No one had mentioned that it was a theme party, and that everyone would be wearing Civil War Regalia. Apparently, this is the frat that Robert E Lee belonged to, and they were damn proud of that. So, imagine if you will, 4 guys sweating their butts off on the front porch of a Plantation Mansion, playing in 100 degree heat after a rainstorm that left a nice, thick haze in the air to a bunch of people wearing Confederate Dress Outfits and giant dresses. It kinda reminded me of the scene in Apocolypse Now Redux at the French Plantation. It was like a dream. The band was playing our strange mix of New Orleans style blues and rock/whatever. It was a constant battle between the drummer and piano player (who both loved Phish), and myself and the guitar player (who absolutely couldn't stand them). So, we played Steely Dan ("Peg"), Zappa ("Camarillo Brillo"), The Beatles ("Dig A Pony"), Professor Longhair ("Tipitina"), a few other covers, and our original stuff. As the evening got went on, and the crowd got more drunk, some guy kept yelling out "Sweet Home Alabama" to the point where we were ready to throttle him. After a quick huddle, the guitar player (5' 2" 117 lbs) announces that we will, in fact, play "Sweet Home Alabama." Now, in spite of his small stature, this guy has one of the lowest, Barry White voices I have heard. In fact, he used to have his on Classical Radio show at UGA. Perfect NPR voice. We break into the crunchiest, most "metal" version of "Sweet Home Alabama" that has probably been realized, and is destined to take the place of the Mudshark in your mythology. With Barry White singing. The crowd was stunned, and actually more appreciative than I would ever have imagined. Mind you, none of us knew the song, but we actually faked it pretty well. During the set breaks, we hung out with the catering staff (they made a fine BBQ) more than the party people. They loved us, and they were obviously getting all of our snide comments from the stage that the crowd was not. I think they found the whole thing as ridiculous as we did. We packed up around 1 am (just in time for the rain to start for the ride home), and drove back to Athens laughing the entire way. Anyway, I tell the story better in person, but I am bored at work and thought I'd type it out. Sorry for the long post. Anyone have any funny stories (those of you who made it this far....)?