A Barking Dog

"Hello" I answered, though in a way that sounds like Yell-O. It's one of my three standard phone greetings. The others are "what!?" and "this better be good".

"Hi Dave, it's the tour manager. Did I wake you?"

"What's up?" I respond, ignoring the question.

"We are checking out of the hotel and are are giving everyone the option of either staying here or going to the new hotel. We are leaving in a half an hour and the only ones we haven't talked to are you, FOH dude and prod dude. We'll leave them directions and cab fare to the new hotel. It's not too far."

"I still need to pack, shower and get ready. I can't be ready in 30 minutes."

"Then I'll leave more money for the cab."

Huh? I think.

"Let me call you back in a few minutes".

I call prod dudes room. No answer. I call FOH dudes room, no answer. I try both cells. No answer. Leaving three quarters of the crew, all key personel in a situation like this had all the makings of either an early Robert Rodiquez film, or at the very least a bad Eagles song. I knew lighting dude would be in the bar, watching football. It was Sunday, after all. He's in the bar, Anejo and Coke in hand, NFL on the big screen. He's heard we're to leave and is getting ready to go get his luggage. He didn't know we were leaving the others. That's two of us perplexed.

I'm going to hit the El Patron and VIPS next to the hotel. They are basically Mexican versions of Dennys. Most VIPS even have a Farmacia in the lobby. Actually VIPS is more like Stucky's, though the food is worse. If you remember Stucky's having worse food is quite an accomplishment. No gringo roadies at any of the eateries, or the Office Max next door. I return to the hotel, not quite sure of my next move. I see lighting dude in the lobby, checking out and most of the rest of the party is showing up. Mr and Mrs Friend are there as well.

No sign of them, it tell him. Lighting dude asks if anyone has gone to their rooms. I tell him that I called the cells and rooms and these guys were some phone talkin' mofos, if they were out they would have the phones on. I then learn that FOH dude had to change rooms, or else would have shared with a Mexican couple. They gave him an occupied room. The rooming list wasn't right. I head to get my luggage, he heads to check the rooms. In the elevator I see the tour manager and explain again why I think it's a bad idea. Tour manager didn't seem too concerned. I get my shit and drag it back to the lobby, where most of the party has now gathered. They don't understand what the big deal is. All we are doing is leaving two guys in a strange foreign town with a note and cab money, nothwithstanding we didn't have complete travel info for the remainder of the tour. It's just a plain bad idea, particularly with a 30 minute notice.

Lighting dude returns a few minutes later. Seems as both the MIAs were sleeping in their respective rooms. FOH dude's room had changed, so we were all calling the wrong room. He probably wouldn't have even got the note. Prod dude's phone didn't ring, for some reason. he didn't tell them they were about to be left, just that we were leaving in a half hour. Which at this point was about 40 mins past when I was told it would be a half hour. The bus starts to load. Carlos and Fillipe are heading back to Mexico City. We're going to Club Med Villas Arqueológicas in Cholula. Another 10 mins or so passes and Mr Friend comes back to ask lighting dude if is is "sure" he talked to the other two. WTF, is he sure? No, he made it up so we can all sit there. Of course he talked to them. About then prod dude shows up, just aware that he was about to oil spotted, though due to no fault of his own. I'm thinkin' who the hell died and made "Mr Friend" king, he's got nothing to do with this. Little did I know I'd find out in a couple of minutes.

Sound dude made the bus and is concerned he is keeping us waiting. He thinks perhaps he missed a day sheet, maybe his phone didn't work. We tell him what's up. "Leave us?" he says. He basically feels the same way we do. Our crew kvetching session was interupted for an annoucement. It seems Mr Friend pulled some strings or some such to get the new rooms. That's a nice touch. Also, Mr Friend is now working on the tour (with Mrs Friend) as our Mexican guides and translators. The hell you say...

It would have been a hell of a cab ride to Cholula. It was over a half hour in the bus. The Club Med is pretty cool. It's an older classic style Mexican villa, with a small resort, pool, and excellent restaurant. It's a historic area and the rest of the party is going to do some sightseeing. After that, the Latin edition of Rolling Stone is going to shoot for the Dec cover. Good press. Neat area for sightseeing, I think I'll go. As we are leaving, I notice the Champ Car race is live on Azteca. There's no Fox Sports in the room so no tape delay. Sorry kids, I'm staying and watching the race. It's bad enough I'm just over 90 mins or so from the track, I don't want to miss it entirely. Good race, lots of coverage of the Mexican drivers, of course. Race ends, I nap for a couple of hours and at dusk, I set out on the town. Sunday night in rural Mexico. Dead as disco. Except, I hear what sounds to be a disco. It's loud and coming from what appears to be a tent in the middle of this little village/ neighborhood. It's a band, alright. Hammered old Mexican band bus out front and a couple of ragtag trucks. There are at least a few hundred people at the gig. It appears to be a wedding or some kind of party. It's in an open tent in a courtyard, so I take a swing through. I must be standing out because it felt like every eye in the place was watching me. After several seconds I decide to split back to Club Med. I have a spot of dinner and retire for the evening.

Our day in Mexico City the next day was pretty uneventful. We arrived at the hotel mid afternoon. The Hotel Gran Melia in the Reforma. It was just as nice or perhaps a bit nicer than the standard rooms at the Presidente. It was about two blocks from the "American Party" where we were the week before. Initially we were told we to be here for two days, traveling to Morelia on the day of show. As it turns out , most of the party want to go sightseeing at "the pyramids". It's the ruins of the anceint city Teotihuacan, or as I like to call it, Quetzalcoátl's place, though the city was at it's height before the Aztecs found it. If you've never been, it's pretty cool. We are to head out at at 11 the next morning, then depart for the next city after visiting the ruins.

I hit the Business Center for some Internet, holy shit nearly 3000 messages. I basically get about 10 spams or more per hour. It's 57 pesos per half hour or fraction thereof. Damn, about 15 bucks to clean my spam. I'm going to start hitting the Internet Cafes around the Zona Rosa. It's about 15 pesos an hour, or less than a buck fifty. The majority of the party is heading shopping at several of the music stores in town. I decline and head down Reforma toward the museums. By the time I get there, I notice it's nearly 6 pm, or about an hour after they shut. I spend the rest of the evening eating pollo al carbon, drinks in a few bars and in by 10 or so.

One of the good things about the Gran Melia is that breakfast is included. This is pretty standard fare in Europe and the fact the hotel is owned by a Spanish chain probably has something to do with it. It was a good spread. A good mix of traditional Mexican and American breakfast treats. Best so far. I go get my stuff, check out and head to the bus for our trip to the pyramids. We hadn't seen Chucho for a few days. When we were within a couple hours of Mexico City, they send him home. He also has to share a room and doesn't get any meal buyout or have meals provided. He's as good as any of us are and they should be treating him better, but it appears he's used to it and doesn't mind. There's one thing about the way the locals treat the crews down here that I first noticed during my first trip here in 1994. They aren't treated very well, like second class citizens. The promoters sometimes try that same shit on the visiting crews. We jump on board after loading the gear and make the 90 minute drive to the pyramids.

Chucho is out cold as we pull up to gate 1.

"Morelia already?" he asks on arrival.

"Nope, the pyramids."

He looks puzzled. It appears no one has told him of our little stop. Nice, a guy gets on the bus expecting to go to work and learns when we stop that there is a six or seven hour detour. As we tour the ruins, we nearly constantly acosted by endless streams of vendors. After about 10 mins I stop responding to them. If they persist or try to hamper my progress, I give them a stern "fuck off!" Many of them are very aggressive. Like I said, it's a nice little trip even with the guys hawking their wares. Some of the stuff is nice and not all the vendors are aggressive I just don't want anything.

You enter at one end and after a 4 or 5 km walk, you end up at gate three where the bus is supposed to meet you. About 20 mins into the trip, we lose Carlos and Chucho. They've seen it before and head to the bus to wait for us to return. A few hours later we arrive at gate 3. For the last hour or so, there have been intermittent light sprinkles. A look around indicates a pretty strong front coming through. One of the advantages of being a transplanted Seattlite is that you can feel the ran coming. I give a few warnings, though not really heeded. Sure eough, it starts hammering down rain. We exit gate 3 to board the bus. No bus. No one really knows what to do. They call Carlos, no answer. Mr Friend finds a cab and will take it back to gate 1 to look for them. About 10 mins pass and someone suggests we walk back. I have to remind them that it's a two mile or better hike. Besides we just sent someone for them. The next suggestion was for only a few of us to go back. What kind of wacky reasoning is that? Stay put, they'll come for us. It wasn't really that bad, we had to wait about 20 - 30 mins and the bus pulls up. We get on for our ride to the next gig..

We've hit Mexico city traffic and decide to stop at a VIPS for dinner. The crew knows VIPS so we hit a local place a few doors down. I had awesome fajitas, a huge skillet for about five bucks, with a Coke. The stop is nearly 90 mins, but the traffic is still really heavy. We clear traffic in about an hour and are told that we'll be there in 30 to 45 mins. About an hour passes and something is discovered. There was an error in the promoter provided interary. It was really about 150 miles more than the stated distance. How did that happen? No one bothered to check the promoter provided info, or call and confirm the hotels prior to arrival. That could be a problem. Mr Friend volunteers to go over the info checking distances and confirming travel. That's good, a nice touch though should have been done by management or within the touring party. Always, ALWAYS confirm and double check things. We don't pull into the hotel until almost midnight. We passed the time on the bus by drinking Modelo, watching videos and I, as alway, have the trusty iPod by my side. It's a Fiesta Inn, a brand of "American Party" hotels. The translation is "no minibar", limited room service and bar. It's like a Day's Inn with room service, restaurant and bar.

We want to go in as early as possible as this is only our second show with this production. Carlos will go to the gig in the morning, then report back. Well, what time? When he is done, we are told. The production is not expected in the building until 10 or so anyway. There is an open air mall next to the hotel. I'd had breakfast earlier with some of the band and the star and tour manager. I meet up later with lighting dude and sound dude and we head to the mall. Same as the others. After milling around they have a spot of lunch and we head back to for the load in. By this point it's after noon. The bus had been taken in for service and was just getting back. We're met in the lobby by Mr Friend and the rest of the crew. He's going over with us to help with the translation. Interesting because the new production staff speaks fine English.

"Instead of taking the bus, why don't we load the gear into a taxi and cab over." Mr Friend offers.

The four of us look at him and say nothing.

"Just an idea." he says responding to our silence.

"It ain't a good one." I shoot back.

I explain this is how we've been doing it the whole time, it works and besides we'd need a van or small truck to fit the gear. The budget calls for using the bus. If we start cabbing everyday who is going to pay for it?

He launches into the "this isn't like other tours you've done, Mexico is a third world country, blah blah blah blah blah". And exactly how many tours had he done? None. How about Mexican tours? None. I'm seeing shades of Jorge and seeing how he tells the star and tour manager everything he sees or hears, he'll need to keep a wide berth. At least Jorge had gigged before. We hit the gig and soon after he cabs back to take care of band dry cleaning. Production is in and it's looking pretty good. I step on stage to survey my domain, and well, fuck me runnin'. There is a pretty new Heritage 3000 where my 4kM should have been. Seems as though they listened when I told them I prefered the Hertiage and since the 4K was a rental item, I bet the promoter was glad to get rid of it. I start patching my gear and presetting the console. That was a welcome addition. The lights were still 50 or so cans short but other than that they seem OK.

We're still missing info for the last two shows of this weeks run and the "big important show" in Mexico City next week. The final gig of the tour will use this production. That was still six gigs away. We wanted to know what we were doing in two days. We've been told so many different things between Jorge and Carlos and Fillipe we just don't know what to believe. With Jorge now gone we think it may be easier. It's Weds and we are doing an upscale bullring in Morelia. Book of lies says arena, but it's a bullring. It's not bad. Thurs we head to Guadalajara for a gig at a cultural center, early Friday morning we fly nearly a thousand miles to Chihuahua where we'll use a different different production for two shows, the second in Juarez. I'd given them a list of acceptable gear. We'd been told that if the company didn't have the gear, they would fly what we needed. Even consoles. That's good, but I didn't know if they didn't know any better or were bullshitting us. During my surfing in at the Melia, I took a gander of what flights were between Guadaljara and Chihuahua. The commercial flights were all DC9s and regional jets. The problem with a large frame desk like a 4K or H3k is that they need a widebody jet to fit the console through the door in the cargo hold. Even a 737 won't cut it. Usually a 757, 767 or larger.

We did get specs the day before but due to the late arrival at the hotel this was the first we had to review it. An outfit in Chihuahua called PY EEY was doing production, including two identical sets of control one for each act. It was a co-headliner gig. Crest consoles, MSL4 and PS650P, a hacked together cluster of processing. They wanted us to share all the backline. No way, it will take too long to do the set change. Plus, what if something breaks. how about just drums? What part of no do they not understand. Two bands, two sets of gear. The other band agreed, though they travel with most of their own backline.

We do that nights show. Yet another good one. I go back to the hotel and crash out. I'm tired and know I'll need to be up for the rest of the week.

We head to Guadaljara, not a long run. We hit the Intercontental about 1 pm. Vans are waiting to take us to the gig right away. And by the way, after most of the party had went into the hotel and some were on the way to the rooms, we were told the bus was leaving. They were also trying to get us to leave as much as we could with the bus like big suitcases that would spend the next five days in luggage storage back at the Melia. Ain't gonna happen, we'll head to the gig at three or so, after lunch. The gear is loaded into a gear van and we hit the mall across the street for a spot of lunch. As we head to lunch, again one of the locals is trying to get us into the van to go to the gig.

We return from lunch and get into the vans for the gig. It's about quarter after three. We take the vans for about 20 mins. We see the truck, but two gensets and what looks like racks for a Thomas four poster roof. Sure as shit, the gig is outdoors. And there is the possiblity of rain. None of us prepped for an outdoor gig. I call Carlos over and Mr Friend follows. The roof is still on the stage so no backline can be set though the PA is up and running, there is some issue with lighting power and it appears that is keeping the roof on the stage. With a trim of about 4 ft or so if that, Chucho and his assistant start to set the band gear, at least what they can and load it on the stage. What a trooper.

"Carlos, buddy you gotta tell us when the gig is outside." I say trying to be cooperative and non demanding.

"You did not know?"

"No I didn't, I just hope it doesn't rain."

"We'll take care of it. Jackets if you need. They making cover for you now" he points as they are building a sidewall with a large tarp over the mon beach. There aren't bay wings and while the structure is a Thomas, six poster actually, the roof skin is merely tarps lashed together with no gutter system. If it rains hard, it won't be able to take it.

We're on the same page and he heads back to his gig. I've come to like him, he's a good guy.

"It says 'patio' on the sheet." Mr Friend states with certainty.

"What!" I say making sure to make intense eye contact.

"On the sheet, it says 'patio', that means outside."

"It says nothing on the itenerary. We have no info other than the gig name and the hotel and phone number. No venue info, no tech info, nothing that helps us plan our day." I was still being pretty calm, although direct. "Patio means nothing in our business, the proper term is outdoors, open air or amphitheater." What he was refering to I would later find out, was the initial deal sheet from the agent that listed the gigs, money breakdown, payment schedule and travel and hotel requirements. He didn't realize that everyone doesn't get that info.

"Thanks, I'll try and remember that for the future" I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "You have understand, this is Mexico and we don't do things here like on the big tours in the US. This is a third world country. It's just a communication problem, they don't understand what you need." He just hit the big red "push this knob to make Dave explode" imaginary control.

"The four of us have been doing this for more than 80 years combined. Big bands, small bands, huge stadiums, small clubs. In places like Indonesia, South East Asia, Thailand, the former Eastern Block, all over South America, Europe and many places far more backasswards than here. This is not a language issue."

He tries to get a word in edge wise and I continue right over him.

"Call Ocessa or Clear Channel, this is my 15th gig in Mexico and my fourth trip down here. What we have are people deliberately witholding info and not providing accurate info. Things aren't organized, things aren't planned and it's effecting the ability to do our job." I decide to let him speak.

"I don't think you understand how it works here."

"We do understand how it works" one of the other roadies respond in a calm, rational fashion. "And you are either totally naive, incredibly inexperienced or both if you believe what we've been told. We aren't being given timely or accurate information and in some cases are getting info that we know is not right. The problem isn't the language, it's the promoter."

We walk away and leave him at the side of the stage. There is power to the motors and the roof is starting to be raised, but not all that fast. Once the roof does get up, we start to work. It's not difficult and we get everything wired and set pretty quickly. At this point it's about 5 and they guys seem to have an issue with some speaker cable or patch on stage right. A couple of MA3600 are going into ODEP when any signal is introduced. It takes them a few minutes but they get it. I'm not sure it the guys really know how to use Smaart to get the most benefit from it. They use it primarily for pink noise testing and not for transfer function with program or CD. From what I've heard though, it still sounds pretty good.

At about 5:30 a guys shows up with a box of Whoppers. We had BK for lunch earlier. He offers a sack with fries and a Whopper and a drink. "No thanks." I say.

"No, no, lunch" he offers again.

I take it and put it under the desk. The band arrives about 6:30 and the focus is just starting. There are issues in squintville. Lighting dude is still pretty cool about it. We get them on and off and at the end of check, star asks if anyone else just wants food brought in. The crew unanimously says no, we'll take the buyout. The band doesn't have an opinion and someone is dispatched to Burger King for food for the party. Shit... Lighting world had some power problems and a design problem these guys couldn't forsee. They did add the extra cans, but it seems that the dimmer package is not compatable and they need an additional desk bringing the total to three consoles for lights. Ninety conventionals, some Leikos, ACLS and Molefays on an Avo Pearl, Cybers on a Whole Hog and half of the front truss on some sort of prehistoric NSI console and dimmers. No DMX on the new dimmers, shit I'm a sound guy and even I know that's bad. The entire show was to be on the Whole Hog, but a while earlier while he was loading the Hog, they powered him down while the disk was loading, ruining the only disk of the show. He was starting from ground zero. Poor fucker. It was going to be another delayed show. The third one due to the locals not having the lighting together. At least the audio package was happening. Knock wood.

The gig ends up good, though delayed. We don't clear the venue until after midnight, due to a van shortage. They don't have enough to take the crew and the band together with the gear. The band goes first, leaving what seems to be 20 BK Whopper meals in the dressing room. After they leave and we make idiot checks of the dressing rooms, the mayor, his staff and several police officers are pillaging the dressing room. At least someone enjoyed the food. I still expected my full buyout.

We head back for the hotel. The three blocks before the hotel are packed with hookers. Wow, the roadies perk up. The driver issues a warning.

"These woman they have the, uh uh, you know, they have the stickshift."

My colleagues wonder what the hell he is talking about.

"He's saying the girls are tranny hookers." I offer.

"Si, si" the driver agrees.

It's Thursday night and the stroll is packed, well Friday morning at this point. I've always been sympathetic to the plight of sex workers. Most of these girls aren't guys, though a few could be. Bummer we have a 4:30 am lobby call.