A Barking Dog

It came time for us to depart the arena. I thanked Roberto and Arlo profusely. Roberto remarked, "we'll see you in Puebla, right?"

"You need to talk to Jorge, guys"

"Why?"

"I shouldn't be telling you but Jorge and the production were let go this evening."

He was stunned, Arlo still didn't know, his English was as limited as my Spanish.

Roberto hablaed some espanol and Arlo looked shocked, hurt even. Me too. These guys had busted their balls and were being let go, and the guy that was responsible hadn't told them, though other key crew members knew. I nearly teared up, though I'd only done five shows with these guys. Both of them were on the crew that did the other rock show in July, but I didn't work with them directly, though they remembered me. I guess I stand out. I took to them and hoped I would be a mentor to them, show them the ropes, help them out. We exchanged contact info and hugs, and I left the building. I fucking hate that part of the business, just as much as I hate lying motherfuckers. If something is fucked, tell me and I'll deal with it or not. But don't try to bullshit me. If something can't be like I want or need it, tell me straight up and make me deal, but don't tell me everything is OK then spring some shit at the last minute. That's a guarantee to get a buttload of attitude. Professional? Perhaps not, but it makes me feel a ton better.

We board the bus to return to the hotel. Just as we are about to board, Jorge comes out and give his version of the story, I play dumb even though I just told the sound guys what was up. He basically tells me the same thing the promoter told us earlier. Wow, a straight story. Could it be these guys aren't as fucked up as we thought? No, probably not... they are every bit as fucked as we thought, most likely more.

We boarded and headed to the Holiday Inn where for the first time in about a week I got good Internet access. We ended up having a late dinner/ snack and about 1:45 am I headed for my room. Lobby call 5:15 am, depart 5:30 for a 7:10 flight to Mexico City, then a two hour car ride to Puebla.

Blearly eyed we all made the lobby call, though were a bit woosey. We headed for the airport. Did a normal checkin with crew doing carry ons, we left the big suitcases in the bus and checked about 15 pieces of backline or about half of what we had. The rest would meet us at the gig.

I slept most of the flight, without Dramanine though my trusty iPod never leaves my side. We get to Mexico City. Most tours I do of this size are flying tours. I'm starting to wish we were flying, even with the early morning departures. We find the fleet of Suburbans. We load but we have one stop to make. The new backline company provides a guy. He owns the company, even. Chucho, or Celso Montenga as his card says. He sure looks like a roadie. Over the next two weeks, we'd come to find he was the ass-slapping daddy of backline in Mexico. If you go down there, hire this guy. He's THE shit.

We're all tired, but first a stop at The Embassy for a bite and then the two hour Mr Toad's Wild Ride to Puebla. At one point I thought I was going to be launched from the car. We make Puebla though somewhat still groggy. We head to the bullring, no hotel rooms ready yet, though it's not that anyone checked. I haven't taken a shit in a couple days and could really use one. Guess I'll have to wait.

It's a bullring alright, dirt on the floor, dressing rooms in what was the emergency room for the medics, prod office in the room the matadors use to get ready. It's all about the culture, baby.

As we depart the bus, I notice a couple of things. The tractor and trailer are clean and well maintained. The genset is in a separate truck, clean and well maintained. The feeder runs are well laid out, and most of all, the genset is running. It's mid morning and the previous dudes didn't usually fire up until mid afternoon, at best. We head for the arena floor. Most of the PA is up, lights are down but there is a crew working on them in an organised fashion. The movers aren't there yet, they did a gig the night before and should be there before noon. One of the lighting guys apologises. The sound system is killer, I think I'm in a dream. A 32 box KF750/SB1000 rig with Crown power and EV DSP, at FOH. There are 48 snake channels and a 16 channel drive snake. The DIs all match (though they are Directors) and the cabling is neat and clean. FOH has a nearly new Hertiage 3000, with Lexicon, Yamaha and tc effects and dbx and Drawmer dynamics. There are two stereo zones of KT eq and a Smaart rig with a proper mic.

On stage there is a rented 4kM, 10 ch of Drawmer comp, 8 ch Drawmer gate, a tc D2, tc M1, and 2 SPX 990s. It was all cabled and ready to go, with 14 channels of DN360. Most of it was new, or near new. Uh, wow. This was unexpected.

The stage is robust and solid, there is a proper barricade with good ground support. Proper stairs on each side of the stage an the required risers. I'm wondering what exactly we needed to compromise for this gig. For fuck sake, we fallen into a real gig. Pretty much everything was as it should be. There was an issue with the bass cab, some cymbals and a couple keyboard stand but Chucho was on it and the stuff was heading in from Mexico City. There were a couple of issues with the conventional lights. The front truss was only half loaded, it needed both bars per section and had one. That was a product of the last minute gig. It would be fixed by next gig. The cans in the bars were hammered, most nowhere close to being round and most were lucky to have three or even two gel frame tabs. That could be a problem. While the sound got a pretty good upgrade, lights might be taking a hit. Let's wait for the moving lights. Given what was going on, this had to have been in motion more than just 12 hours or so before we knew. We guess Fillipe decided to ditch Jorge a couple of days earlier, and didn't bother to tell us until all was in place. No matter, this was better. I didn't have my boys, but these guys were good. They were about our age and seemed pretty good. Angel was my tech, again, we had a Miguel at FOH and Raul was stage master. These guys had it together.

We start talking about consoles with the promoters (more than one, will explain in another episode) and I'm wondering what the other desk that normally is used with the Heritage is, since my 4k is rented. They were wondering if they should buy some consoles since all the acts they do need them. Why the partner desk is another Heritage 3000, of course. Yer killin' me. It seems (and I knew this before) the rider states that the PM4000M is "the only acceptable monitor console". First, I have a problem when riders say that. If you really and I mean REALLY need that specific piece of gear, might want to bring it with you. Last I heard that's why they had rental companies and freight forwarders. Now if you are going to demand something that, at least spec a piece of gear worth being snotty about. That's like saying "the only car I'll drive is a Honda Civic". At least they took it seriously after I threw a fit when now fired Jorge tried to switch it with an SM24. We tell the promoters (all three of them) that if and I mean IF we do anything with them again, we'll bring our own control and backline and they could save about US$20k or so compared to what they are paying now, even after cargo. They don't believe me. I tell them flat out, they're getting fucked on some of the stuff, though the new deal is much better, acceptable in fact. It's nearly half, well more like 60% of what Jorge was charging.

Not only did they buy us breakfast, they bought lunch and did the daily buyout. There were plastic tubs of iced drinks, something that didn't happen before and a general better sense at the gig. We were asked what we wanted to eat.

"Chicken" I replied.

"Si, pollo, like Kentucky?" Carlos inquired.

"No, like we had the other day. It was awesome."

About an hour later, a dude came back with enough pollo al carbon, tortillas and salsa to feed a small army. Which at that point, we had. Chicken lunch for the crew, though we had to improvise on the dining arrangements. Cases, the asle of the gig, anywhere we could eat.

It's getting to be late afternoon, we call the band to see what is up. Gotta love worldwide cellphones. I've had one for a while, but they seem to work better when they are turned on and you actually answer the calls, or heaven forbid, return the calls. They're in town, but can't find the gig. It's really in a residential area. Go through a neighborhood or two and there you have it. I thought we were lost on the way in but we turned a corner and right in the middle of all these houses was a bullring. They want to stop at the hotel but we need the rest of the backline. The star asks about the production. We give him a thumbs up. They'll be there in "ten minutes". Cool, we hang up.

About half an hour later, probably closer to an hour, the bus shows, but no band, just gear and our trusty pilot Roberto. Seems as though the band wanted to shower, rest and change. No problem. Early evening, about 6:30 the band arrives. Doors at 8 but there is now a support band on another stage in the crowd that starts at 8:30 and we are to do 9:30. It's Saturday night in Puelba. There's a problem with the hotel. It sucks, or so I'm told. Really? Worse than the place a couple nights ago? I'm shocked....NOT... We may be moving. What do you mean "maybe". I thought we were to go to Mexico City the next day for press and days off. We now don't go until Monday. Fuck me runnin'! A couple of us had planned on attending the Champ Car event Sunday afternoon. No problem we are told, buses run to the Mexico City main bus terminal every 15 mins, to the airport every half hour. Buses? Gringo? Mexico? Right. How about a car service. To late for the normal guys and we are given numbers of where to call. The race won't happen for us. Damn it. Forget about it, time to gig. Besides F1 from Suzuka will be on live when we get back to the hotel. Saturday night in central Mexico is Sunday afternoon in Japan. I'd love to see Kimi win the thing.

The gig turns out great, packed, good response. As I go to the dressing room/ emergency room for the beltpacks and molds post gig (also to get a shot or three of the band's Jack Daniels, my nightly routine thinnly disguised as a post show briefing) I'm stopped by someone that looks like an American. He's trying to control access to the dressing room.

"I own this fuckin' place, dude" I offer as I brush past him. Who the fuck was that, I'm thinking. Well, I'm about to find out. Seems as though it's "friend of star from California, now living in Mexico" and "Mrs. friend of star from California, now living in Mexico". I can only wonder why one would move from an upscale affluent beach community north of So Cal to Puebla. I'm thinking maybe it's the pollo al carbon. Maybe it's a pending indictment. Either way, I really don't have the time to ponder it now. I'm still a bit miffed about the race thing. At least it's on Azteca live and Fox tape delayed. I take some Jack and head back to watch the load out.

We finish the out and I'm standing around. I start to notice a couple of things, compared to our last show. Namely, we had a crew just for our stuff. Carlos and Roberto are loading and unloading our stuff now. Interesting. There is also what appears to be local labor which we didn't have before. We had about 20 Mexicans crammed in a tour bus that did each gig. No wonder it took them five or six hours to load out. It's about a half hour, maybe forty mins after the show went down and we're packed, the trusses are down, FOH has packed and cleared the room, mon desk is down and ready for loading and the stacks are starting to come down. In other words, a real touring gig. Or so I thought.

As usual, waiting on the band. That's how it is and it's not that bad. The feeder is being wrapped, the genset truck is already being buttoned up. As I head tothe bus, I notice our consoles being staged to go into the genset truck. No ramp, either. About a dozen guys start lifting the desks into the truck. Why are our desks going into another truck? I decide to ask Angel.

"What's up with our consoles?"

"We are loading them."

"Yes, I can see that. Why are they going in this truck."

"This truck is going to Mexico, to a show."

"Are these consoles being used on another show?"

"Yes, of course."

Of course, OF COURSE!? I had to go get prod dude and FOH dude.

I explained what was happening. Carlos and HLB were summoned to the production office. It seems that the system was rented for five shows (not counting the two up north that can't make the travel sched via ground) and not for the remainder of the tour. No wonder it was so much cheaper. They traveled in vans, leaving the morning of the show, they weren't commited the entire time, just on the show days. There were less crew. At least they could have told us so we could chart the consoles.

We get on the bus and head back to the dive. On arrival, "Mr friend of star" says to get all our stuff off, the bus is leaving to Mexico City. What's up with that? We ask both Carlos and Roberto (one guy pays the bus, the other drives it) and say they are going nowhere, it's staying with us. Mr Friend insists that's not the case. The band heads to a restaurant, the crew to the bar to watch the race. Bummer Kimi didn't win. Red dude won a sixth WDC title. I retired to my room in the dive, and quickly sacked. I'd been up about 22 hours at this point.