You spin me right round, baby, right round

Most stage set ups are all the same, depending on the particular gear that the band uses. But in general, the drum kit is usually in the back of the stage, and then the amps of the guitarist and bassist are on their left and right. The singer usually is up front in the middle of the stage. Mix and match with additional instruments like keyboards, DJ turntables, the occasional stringed instruments, horns, additional backup singers, etc. The diagram of this that you send to the talent buyer or booker is called the Stage Plot. It helps the sound engineer know what to have ready when you arrive and how to properly set up all of the house equipment for what you are bringing.

The way the musicians hear themselves onstage is through several monitors set up around the front of the stage facing back at the performers. The audience doesn’t particularly hear what comes out of these monitors.  The drummer usually has their own drum monitor at the back by their drums facing them. Unfortunately I have played several venues that, for some logic-defying reason, didn’t have a drum monitor at all. I couldn’t hear shit. Just my drums. I just had to basically know where I was in the song from counting in my head and playing the songs a few hundred times. Muscle memory put to the test. I also watch my band-mates’ body language. I watch for certain lyrics or guitar solos and their accompanying body movements to know where I am in the song. It’s challenging as hell, but sometimes you have to forge ahead even when you can’t really hear the other musicians.

But when you do have monitors, and 99% of the time you do, getting the proper mix can be heavenly, and you can actually hear the songs better than you ever do during practice. Each of these monitors is a powered monitor, meaning that it can be mixed just for the individual musician that it is aiming at, to help them hear what they need to hear onstage while performing. As a drummer, I usually make sure that the vocals are highest in my personal mix, followed by the guitars. I don’t ever need to hear myself (some drummers love to have their own drums high in the mix), but I do need to hear the bass guitar prominently. The bass guitar and the drums make up the rhythm section, after all. People cue off of different things. That’s why you each want your own powered monitor to blast back exactly what you need to hear.

So on this night I noticed an unusual set up at the music venue I was working at. Instead of the guitar amp being behind the guitar played aimed out at the crowd, the amp was lined up along the front of the stage, aimed away from the crowd and directly toward the guitar player himself. He was using his amp as his own powered monitor, and had it mic’d so it would be going through all of the house speakers as well. It also had two little hinged legs to hold it up at a 45 degree angle. Amps are almost always just set level on the ground, and monitors are usually angled or come in a wedge shape so they are aimed up at the ear-level of the musician needing it. This guy was cutting out the middle man and just using his amp as a monitor. Nothing wrong with this, as long as you control any feedback onstage from other microphones that might pick up too much of a signal from his amp. I didn’t see a vocal mic for him, so the potential for ugly feedback was nil. But having the amp at the edge of the stage always seems like a bad idea to me, as the crowd is right there and could accidentally bump it, spill a beer, or worse.

Sure enough, things got weird. About and hour into the show I was standing by the curtain to backstage monitoring the crowd, and I noticed some dude dance his way right up to the front of the stage. It’s sometimes hard to determine if someone is just really enjoying the music, or is actually intoxicated. So I watched him for a few minutes. He was singing along with the lyrics and obviously was a true fan of this band. I didn’t like him dancing that close to the precariously tipped amp, but he wasn’t doing anything that the rest of the crowd wasn’t doing. A member of the opening band walked through the curtain and chatted with me for a second, so my attention strayed from the dancing dude. When I looked back, he was absent-mindedly lightly tapping on the top of the amp, along with a pretty cool drum fill. Dude knew the drum parts too, but he can’t be touching the musical equipment like that.

I walked over to him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder.  “Please don’t touch any of the equipment onstage.”  He gave me a guilty smile and his eyes got wide. He made that gesture that you make when you don’t want any trouble and are sort of apologizing. The one where you raise your hands in a sort of “I surrender” wave. He honestly acted like he was afraid of me. I just said thanks and backed up to where I was standing previously. He continued to enjoy the music.

Until he touched the amp again. I was looking at the struts holding it up at the 45 degree angle. I had no idea how strong they were. I also could see into the back of the amp and noticed the tubes. Some amps are tube amps and require little cathode light bulb looking things to amplify the sound. I won’t get into all the details of how that works, mainly because I can’t, but suffice it to say that these little bulbs are very important to the functionality of the amp. I also remember reading that amplifier circuits, even when unplugged, contain voltages that can kill you. You can see where my worried mind was taking me with this.

This time I used my tactical flashlight to spotlight him. This draws unwanted attention to the person, and also effectively blinds them for just a second. I said more loudly, “Do not touch this amp again or you will have to leave.” He nodded and actually moved away from this area of the stage. I shook my head and returned to my station. I was starting to think that he was indeed drunk, or maybe just stubborn as a mule. It’s a fine line.

Then he was back. This time he actually reached over the amp and attempted to touch the knobs on the front. He could turn the main volume knob all the way off, or all the way up, or even unplug the cable. What in the unholy hell is he thinking? I moved right up to him and as I did I noticed the guitar player onstage also moving towards the guy. The guitar player saw this dude trying to mess with his settings and lunged at the guy with his guitar, as if to skewer him with the neck of it. While playing the song and not missing a note. At that exact moment I reached him and grabbed him firmly by his shoulders. I said very loudly, “YOU ARE LEAVING.” Then I spun him around so he was now facing away from me. I grabbed his shoulders again and started pushing him through the crowd towards the exit. I could have walked him out along the side, but I was pissed off at him and wanted to make a spectacle out of him. I pushed this guy all the way through the crowd towards the door. People moved out of our way making us a path. I felt several pats on my own shoulders as I did this. Other crowd members saw him screwing with the amp and glad I was evicting him from the venue.

We got to the door and we walked through, only to have him collapse to the ground like I tripped him or something. I actually laughed out loud and stepped over him. My two co-workers saw me walk this guy out and started coming towards him to help grab him if necessary. I explained, “He was messing with the guitarist’s amp after multiple warnings to stop. He’s out.” He got up slowly and walked out with me still holding one elbow and my co-workers flanking him on either side in case he made it worse. He just kept acting shocked like he was innocent and I was just some power-tripping security guard. He walked outside complaining and whining. I saw him go to the sidewalk and flip us off. But he didn’t come back.

I walked back into the venue and even more people gave me congratulatory back slaps and shoulder taps as thanks. Everybody was quite happy that I manhandled that drunk idiot out of here after interfering with the musician’s gear during a performance. And I kept thinking, that dude paid money for this concert. He totally loved the band and knew their material. And he then proceeded to do the one thing that you never do at a concert. Screwed with the equipment. And so he got booted out for it. What a fool. I hope he left his jacket here. I hope he left his credit card here and didn’t close out his tab. And I gotta admit, when I got back to my station at the curtain I looked around at the crowd confidently and thought, “Who’s next?” There were absolutely zero problems for the rest of the night.

After the show I had a brief chat with the guitarist. He thanked me for getting that idiot out of the venue. I apologized for not getting him out sooner. I was just kind of shocked that he was actually continuing to do what I specifically warned him not to do. The guitarist was in an international touring band and had a cool accent, possibly from Denmark or Finland. I told him I thought it was amazing that he almost stabbed the guy with his guitar. He laughed heartily. I wonder if that dumbass is actually honored that the guitarist from his favorite band almost skewered him from onstage. That could make quite an album cover.

 

 

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Tough guy shit

Two dudes come walking in near closing time.

I ask to see their IDs and warn them that we are about to close, so they might just have time for one drink. They say they understand and get out their IDs. The first guy’s ID isn’t valid, as it expired two years ago. Not two days ago, two weeks ago, or even two months ago. Two years ago. What the hell, man?

Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Sorry, my friend, but this ID expired almost two years ago. You can’t come in here with this.

Dude: But it’s clearly me in the photo!

Me: Right, but we can’t accept any expired ID from anyone. This is basically useless once it’s expired.

Dude: Yeah but look at me, I’m clearly over 21.

Me: Yeah you’re probably over 21, it’s just that you must have a VALID form of ID to even be in here. It’s O.L.C.C. rules.

Dude: OLC-what?

Me: Oregon Liquor Control Commission. There are some other places nearby you can still hit that might not care about the expired ID. Sorry for the hassle. Have a good night.

Dude: I don’t accept this!

I paused. My brow furrowed. This guy definitely gets points for originality. Most people just give up and leave sadly when their ID is rejected. When the bouncer gives you the direct message that you cannot enter the premises, it’s safe to say it’s a done deal. Also, now that I’ve got him talking I can tell he is already drunk. Glassy red eyes, difficulty putting sentences together coherently, etc.

Me: Well, I can’t accept an expired ID, so you can’t come in here tonight. Sorry.

Dude: Is there a manager here? Lemme talk to your manager. This is fucking bullshit.

Me: Look, it’s almost 2 in the morning. There’s no manager here. I’m the security staff on shift now. I’m denying you entry due to an expired ID. Head out.

Dude: I don’t accept this! I’m almost 40 years old!

It had already been a long day, and I’d had enough of rude entitled drunk people. Especially this guy. His buddy finally started putting his arms around him in a meager attempt to pull him back outside the doorway. Or prevent him from swinging at me. I admittedly lost my cool.

Me: I don’t give a fuck if you accept it or not. You’re leaving.
First, you have an ID that expired TWO YEARS AGO. Second, you’re drunk already. Third, you’re arguing with me and giving me shit. That’s THREE reasons why you aren’t coming in here tonight. I only need one. Goodbye.

I glanced to the side to the bartenders who were watching this little interaction. I was just looking at them in exasperation over this jerk’s behavior. I knew we’d be talking about this event later after doors were locked and we were closing down the bar. But, they both walked slowly out from behind the bar to back me up in case this situation went south. They both appeared on either side of me ready to help in case this guy wanted to fight about it. I gotta admit, I felt like Darth Vader in the Death Star trench with a TIE fighter flanking him on either side. “I’m on the leader.”

I said to the guy’s friend, “Will you please get him out of here for his sake?”
He nodded yes sheepishly. He still had his arms around the rude guy and was trying to back him out of the door ineffectively.

Dude: You’re a fucking asshole!

I smiled at him and nodded.

Me: Don’t come back.

Both guys stumbled backwards out the door and the first guy kept cussing and complaining. He flipped me off as they went out the door. I hope they walk to the next bar and the exact same thing happens to them. I also look forward to reading the one-star Yelp review.

*********

There was a concert in the venue tonight which was seated. This is unusual for this venue, normally it’s standing room only. There were a hundred and fifty chairs set up in the floor area, and numerous tables set up around the sides. And there was some drink special involving whiskey, just to make things more interesting.

I was positioned by the curtain to the green room watching the crowd. With everybody seated it was harder to spot overt drunken behavior. People weren’t staggering around or having trouble maneuvering through people or up steps. They weren’t spilling their drinks or having trouble maintaining their balance while standing or dancing. They were all sitting down drinking hard. It’s harder to tell if somebody is too intoxicated to be here if their drunk ass is sitting on a chair.

I noticed some voices getting really loud near me. Angry loud voices. I saw two groups of people sitting at the two tables nearest me arguing about something. From what I could ascertain in only a few seconds, some dude accidentally bumped the table and a drink spilled on a woman. The woman’s boyfriend got mad and started talking shit to the spiller of said drink. This is the origin of about 90 percent of fights in bars. Some accident happens, a guy has to defend his girl’s honor and exert his macho powers. Two dudes puff up their chests and bark loudly. If an acceptable apology is not achieved, the two males square off to determine who is the alpha male. By punching each other.

I walked over and turned on my flashlight and asked if everything was worked out. Both parties got a little embarrassed and settled down. I then noticed who was in one of the groups. One of the owners of this establishment. He wasn’t the one talking shit, but it was his friends who were. Now this shouldn’t really matter, but it does. I’m not going to go in and physically grab the best friend/brother of the venue owner unless absolutely necessary. It gets political. I’d be right, but I’d still be wrong.

I hadn’t even worked there very long and wasn’t exactly sure of this guy’s role in the establishment. I just recognized him as an owner. Since this could be a delicate situation I radioed my boss and asked him to come down. He had a much longer relationship with the owner and would better know how to de-escalate him and his crew. I told him that the two groups were getting loud and angry over a spilled drink and a woman, but seemed to be calmed down now. I pointed out who was sitting in the middle of the one group. My boss’s eyes got wider.

Now there are two bouncers standing right by two tables of patrons. Me and my boss. The entire place is seated, so our presence is very obvious. Normally a small show of force like that is all people need to simmer down. Most people don’t like being watched by the security staff and having attention drawn to them. Well, most sober people anyway.

The two tables started yelling again, with the two main guys ramping it up calling each other names. One guy started reaching for the other guy. My boss was down in the owner’s face asking him to get his friends to stop. He said, “If you don’t stop them we’re gonna have to.” Based on the increased volume and aggression of the two guys, I was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end smoothly. I then realized the table in front of them had about 10-15 glasses of beer and whiskey on it. Once the inevitable fight breaks out, this table is going to get bumped or flipped, and all those glasses are going to break. In the melee it’s quite likely that we would slip and fall on the spilled booze, and then get all cut up by the broken glass.

So I grabbed the table and slowly slid it out of the way, also allowing us better access to the drunken people arguing on the benches. My boss saw me do this and knew exactly what I was doing. It was about to turn south, and I was getting this potential hazard out of our way. This non-verbal communication between bouncers is key, and keeps us safe and on the same page. It was my way of saying, “This isn’t working and it’s going to erupt in a few seconds.”

Sure enough, one drunk dude called the other drunk dude a ‘faggot’ and reached for his neck. My boss and I each had tactical flashlights out and flashed them right in their eyes. This stuns a sober person pretty well, so spotlighting a drunk person in the dark with a 1000 Lumen tactical flashlight really fucks them up for a few seconds. We moved to the instigator and grabbed him up off the bench and away from his friends.

If you’ve seen the movie Carlito’s Way you probably remember the scene where Al Pacino is sitting at a table in his club eating and defends one of his club girls. John Leguizamo is trying to grab the girl away and Pacino doesn’t let him. Things escalate and all the security guards in suits appear out of nowhere and whisk Leguizamo off to the staircase. Well, that’s essentially what we did here.

We bear-hugged the guy away from the other group and out of the area. Manhandled him out of a side door and released him. Told him he couldn’t come back to the venue, and to get off the property. The venue owner came out and walked out with him, apologizing to us profusely.

I went back in the venue and the other guy was trying to follow us out to fight the guy outside. Still puffing up in front of his lady. I pointed at him and said, “Don’t be the second problem. It’s handled. Sit down.” He did.

The musical act onstage never stopped playing, and didn’t acknowledge the scuffle.
No broken glass. No injuries. No police involvement. I consider this a win.

Damned whiskey and testosterone.