In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, the hard rock band, Wally Tucker and the Nudes, shares one of their stories from being on the road. You can check out the story, after the break.
Sooooo…Like all good stories begin, there was this girl. She was a cute punk rocker, black shirt, black skirt, short messy hair. Only something was different about her, it’s almost like she was sharper than the others…literally.
She walked into the bar about a quarter to 2am. We were all just sitting down with the owner of Vern’s in Calgary, Alberta. A small basement dive bar, grungy in all the right ways and ran by the sometimes grumpy but always witty, Clint. Cups all hang from the top of the bar slightly lower than Clint’s eyes because he’s a giant, and all you see is his upper torso and scruffy beard talking at you telling you to drink more beer. The lights are dim which helps with the cleanliness and the back of the stage wall sparkles with shit loads of local drummers broken cymbals stacked vertically like they are holding up the ceiling. We are having a few beers unwinding after the semi-successful rock show. Pretty regular evening on tour through the prairies.
She walks down the dark stairs to the bar entrance standing in the doorway dressed to kill, ready to party. Tells Clint that’s exactly what she intends to do and asks if any of us if we are willing to facilitate said party. Of course, we are, we grab some beers from Clint and head out to our “tour bus” with a mix of fans and the band. At the time our “tour bus” was a 1974 Vanguard Motorhome. Old but solid, tan in color, tons of character and awesome memories of the tour life in an indie band. We stuffed everyone inside, lit up a joint and passed around some beers and whiskey. Everything is normal, a few guitars make their rounds, a few people fade away as the night goes on. Hunger sets in, as it does so a bunch of the crew head to the closest 7-11 for snacks and big gulps to mix with the whiskey. Myself, Dean, Shane, and Punk Rock Cutie remain. She’s cold so she asks to borrow a hoodie. No problems there. We start playing a few jams to entertain our guest and pass around another joint. No problems there. Within 10 minutes, just as the singing is getting louder and the songs are getting dumber the whole evening comes to a record scratching halt.
A knife!!! She has a knife. Taken out of her purse and now pointed at the three of us, like an old school standoff. What the hell have we got here? She realizes she’s alone in a strange back alley with a stranger band in a stranger RV. One moment, alley, RV, laughing, drinking, music. The next, punk rock cutie has a fucking knife! None of us are in any capacity to be dealing with this and she isn’t supposed to be playing with knives.
Where’s our 7-11 gang? Still 20 minutes out. We try talking her down saying we aren’t going to hurt her we are just having a back alley RV party! You know, like a normal everyday person’s life, right? Everyone will be back soon and everything will be fine. She mumbles some shit and stands her shaky ground. As Dean and Shane are trying to distract her I’m slowly inching closer across the bench seat planning to smack this weapon out of her hand. I get within smacking distance, grab the knife and push her out the door. This time she YELLS some incoherent shit at us then runs away into the night. We close and lock the door, relieved and just overall confused. We finally start laughing then Dean yells at the top of his lungs into the cold dark Calgarian night. “My Hoodie!!!!!!”
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