After the plane lands, I meet up with the band at the carousel. We get our luggage and the gear successfully and head out to meet the bus. Because of this particular band being largely Canadian, and relatively small in Europe, we’re doing a tour of the clubs first. And so, the budget dictates we are all to travel on one bus. There are only five in the crew: the TM, Front of House, Backline Tech, Monitors and (yours truly) Production Assistant. I’m the only girl but they all seem happy to have me on board. Years ago, I was told that some bands don’t like to have the female of the species on tour because we get in the way of the laddish tomfoolery, so to speak. I have to say, although this may be true, I have yet to work with a band where they appear to have gone out of their way to behave in my presence. This is probably because I’m hardly what you would call a lady and am just as likely as they are, if not more, to suggest seeking out a titty bar at five in the morning.
The first thing you do when you get on a new tour bus is bag your bunk. If I were on a crew bus, I’d be up there first, looking after my own interests. But, because this time the band’s travelling with us and I don’t know them, I wait until last and just take one of the remaining bunks. Sometimes people have their preferred spots and the last thing I want to do is get in the middle of band politics over something as trivial as a bunk. Needless to say, I end up with a suicide bunk. My bunk is on the top of two rows and right opposite stairs leading to the door. There was at least one other but the one I spot is right next to the little front lounge and is now full of guitars and laptops, so that’ll be the junk bunk then — cheers for that, fellas.
We only have half an hour or so until we reach the hotel, so we all sit in the back lounge upstairs. Everyone is catching up and it now becomes apparent to me that we are still one missing. He flew in from Newark, so he’s going to join us later on.
When we arrive I notice, to my utter delight, the hotel is fantastic: four stars with bellhops and a spa. I have an amazingly large and luxurious room all to myself even though the band and the rest of the crew are all allocated in twin rooms. I find this a bit odd but I’m not complaining. We all dump our bags and when I get down to the bar, I find them all doing tequila shots.
Seems I wasn’t the only one warming up on the plane. I think I’m going to like this bunch.
They see me heading over and promptly pass me the salt and lemon and down the hatch goes the first shot of many. Prost!
The bass player turns up shortly after; the one who came in on a different flight. The rest of them have all been warning me how he’s a ladies’ man and to be careful, so I turn around fully expectant when they cheer his arrival. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed but I spy some nice tattoos and a cheeky grin and inwardly concede that he does have some appeal. Have to keep my eye on that one, ha!
The rest of the night flies by, and we all crash about 2:00AM as we have an early lobby call, it being the first day of the tour. I can’t sleep and so, crack open a gin and tonic from the mini bar — just a little nightcap — wistfully go to bed, and dream anxiously of tomorrow.
Latest posts by Bee (see all)
- Are we a bus? The inside story of life on the road: Part 18 - May 11, 2014
- Are we a bus? The inside story of life on the road, part 17 - March 20, 2014
- Are We A Bus? The Inside Story Of Life On The Road, Part 16 - February 4, 2014
