Some posters you look at and just cringe. This is one of them. The National was in Calgary,
Alberta in Canada. 450 miles from Seattle. We got all they way to Calgary -- late but still in time for
the gig -- but then the bus broke down. The gas guage
didn't work and it turned out we'd run out of gas. Gas calculations had been wrong for going over the pass.
No problem, we'll get gas.
Aaah, but the fuel injectors need to be primed.
I call the old man at the club and told him we were on our way, and then I called him back
again after we got delayed, and he got pissed thinking I was jiving him. Minutes quickly turned to
hours and in no time we were almost too late to make the Friday show. But now the old man decided
to cut his losses and just pay us for Saturday. We did make Saturday though.
We stayed at the old hotel. Prostitutes had one floor entertainers were on another.
You'd look out the window and could see used syringes that had been dropped onto the roof below. The bar
was like a Twin Peaks time-warp, paintings of deer on the wall and one-armed guys playing pool.
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