Backstage with Baldy
Holmdel – August 17th
I should know better after all of these years.
But once again yesterday morning I was reminded that it’s always a wise move to check the alarm clock when you get to your hotel room.
(I’ll get back to that in a minute)
We arrived at the hotel in Holmdel at 3:30 A.M., and just like I expected at that time of the night, there was no bellman on duty.
Which meant that once again I was forced into distributing the band’s luggage, which has happened a LOT over the last few months.
Here’s the thing. On a show day, the band is basically checking in for somewhere in the neighborhood of 12 hours. I would guess that at least half of that is spent sleeping.
I think I’ve done a fairly good job over the years of documenting how much I love the members of this band.
So I think that earns me a little credit to vent when I hate their guts at 4:00 A.M.
Here’s my gripe.
Who in the hell needs three bags when you’re only staying in a room for 12 hours?
Come to think of it, why do you even need two?
Who do I work for; Beyonce?
I understand the need for wardrobe options, and if I had hair I suppose I’d carry 37 pounds of gels and sprays and conditioners too, but come on. This is just unnecessary.
I think I’m just bitching because I’m tired. And why am I so tired?
Well, once I got the bags delivered to everyone’s rooms, I was wide awake again after getting about 90 minutes of sleep on the bus.
I wasn’t able to get back to sleep until 5:30, and with my luck being what it is, the alarm clock in my room blasted me out of my slumber at 7:00 A.M.
That’s not cool man.
I never know if someone is playing a practical joke on someone they don’t even know, or if some moron set a repeating alarm instead of a one timer.
Either way, whoever was in my room before me was a jackass for doing that, and I was an idiot for not checking.
I was just drifting back to sleep when some family decided that directly outside my door was the perfect place to loudly discuss their plans for the day, and that a trip to the beach would be “an adventure”.
I began to seriously consider what an adventure it would be to jump out of my 8th floor window when they finally moved on and saved me from making the decision.
But by then the damage was done, and I was wide awake again.
So here I am, with about four hours of sleep in me. Chock full of bitterness and grumpitude.
Even the best job in the world isn’t always sunshine and lollipops.
Sometimes it’s full of luggage and alarm clocks.