The White Water Band IV(d)
I awoke to a misty rain, but it wasn't being damp that pulled me from sleep. It was Harlan's voice--"Mike? Mike. Wake up. We've got trouble." I climbed down from my bunk on top of the bus, figuring that our trouble had to do with the latenight hellraisers Jim had brought to peaceful Ocean Lakes. But that wasn't the case. Our current difficulties had to do with the girl we'd met the night before at the pavilion, the one supposedly looking for her eyeglasses.
She'd spent the night on the bus. The older sister and her boyfriend had left sometime during the night, but morning at their campsite found the father furious (and probably frantic) over his missing daughter. While I was sleeping on the roof, the father came to get her. As the story goes, she rose up out of a pile of speaker covers and made an unfortunate stagger as she went down the steps of the bus, looking very much like she was either drunk or stoned. The guys learned then that she was only 14 years old and that this could lead to serious trouble. The father told us that he was going to call the police and that all would go better for us if we stayed right where we were.
When they left, Harlan called me down from the top of the bus.
And we waited. In order to be clean for going to jail, we went two-by-two through the rain to the showers. Three or four hours passed, and the arresting officers didn't arrive. (Other experiences since then--not mine--suggest that, when called, Myrtle Beach police aren't hesitant about arriving and arresting.) When it was checkout time at Ocean Lakes, we decided to leave. We couldn't afford to stay at the campground another night and figured that the police could catch up with us somewhere else. So, depressed and hungry, we rolled through Ocean Lakes toward the exit.
When we'd passed the main office, Harlan stopped the bus and said he wanted to go back and thank the young woman who'd gotten us in and to ask her to tell the police that we had to check out and weren't running away.
After a few minutes, he came sprinting back to the bus and bounded up the steps.
"Hey, gang, guess what! The cops aren't coming!" The older daughter had apparently convinced her father that we were innocent. As we'd waited to be arrested, he'd packed up his family and headed for home. We were free to go!
But more news followed quickly on the heels of this. The morning's rain--and the forecast of more rain over the next couple of days--apparently caused a problem for the campground. The kids staying there with their parents would be complaining mightily about not having anything to do. So, the girl or somebody else in the office asked if we would stay and play a dance that night and the next. We'd get a free site for those nights and $50 dollars to boot!
"We can eat!" we shouted and drove directly to Kentucky Fried Chicken for a bucket!
That afternoon, we unloaded and set up the equipment, practicing through sound check. The two girls we'd met the night before, the ones who didn't believe we were a band, came and hung out with us. We all became good friends over the next couple of days and nights. They were Jenny and Tanya--I don't remember if I'm spelling their names right--from Cleveland, Tennessee.
I don't think I'd ever played a gig like those we played on our two nights at Ocean Lakes. The kids were so excited, we were allowed to act like rock stars, having one of the crew introduce us individually. Kirk jumped up from behind his drum set and laid down a beat. Harlan came out and, after a brief solo, settled into a thundering bass rhythm. Terry and Jim came from both sides of the stage with their guitars, meeting in the middle--Jim tall and black-haired, Terry short and blond. Then it was my turn, and I came out to the applause of the girls lined up on the floor in front of the stage, pounded my cowbell and sang, "We're an American band. . . ."
She'd spent the night on the bus. The older sister and her boyfriend had left sometime during the night, but morning at their campsite found the father furious (and probably frantic) over his missing daughter. While I was sleeping on the roof, the father came to get her. As the story goes, she rose up out of a pile of speaker covers and made an unfortunate stagger as she went down the steps of the bus, looking very much like she was either drunk or stoned. The guys learned then that she was only 14 years old and that this could lead to serious trouble. The father told us that he was going to call the police and that all would go better for us if we stayed right where we were.
When they left, Harlan called me down from the top of the bus.
And we waited. In order to be clean for going to jail, we went two-by-two through the rain to the showers. Three or four hours passed, and the arresting officers didn't arrive. (Other experiences since then--not mine--suggest that, when called, Myrtle Beach police aren't hesitant about arriving and arresting.) When it was checkout time at Ocean Lakes, we decided to leave. We couldn't afford to stay at the campground another night and figured that the police could catch up with us somewhere else. So, depressed and hungry, we rolled through Ocean Lakes toward the exit.
When we'd passed the main office, Harlan stopped the bus and said he wanted to go back and thank the young woman who'd gotten us in and to ask her to tell the police that we had to check out and weren't running away.
After a few minutes, he came sprinting back to the bus and bounded up the steps.
"Hey, gang, guess what! The cops aren't coming!" The older daughter had apparently convinced her father that we were innocent. As we'd waited to be arrested, he'd packed up his family and headed for home. We were free to go!
But more news followed quickly on the heels of this. The morning's rain--and the forecast of more rain over the next couple of days--apparently caused a problem for the campground. The kids staying there with their parents would be complaining mightily about not having anything to do. So, the girl or somebody else in the office asked if we would stay and play a dance that night and the next. We'd get a free site for those nights and $50 dollars to boot!
"We can eat!" we shouted and drove directly to Kentucky Fried Chicken for a bucket!
That afternoon, we unloaded and set up the equipment, practicing through sound check. The two girls we'd met the night before, the ones who didn't believe we were a band, came and hung out with us. We all became good friends over the next couple of days and nights. They were Jenny and Tanya--I don't remember if I'm spelling their names right--from Cleveland, Tennessee.
I don't think I'd ever played a gig like those we played on our two nights at Ocean Lakes. The kids were so excited, we were allowed to act like rock stars, having one of the crew introduce us individually. Kirk jumped up from behind his drum set and laid down a beat. Harlan came out and, after a brief solo, settled into a thundering bass rhythm. Terry and Jim came from both sides of the stage with their guitars, meeting in the middle--Jim tall and black-haired, Terry short and blond. Then it was my turn, and I came out to the applause of the girls lined up on the floor in front of the stage, pounded my cowbell and sang, "We're an American band. . . ."
posted by mac | 4:08 AM
2 Comments:
ahh...the memories! Keep rockin' brother! mark
Lots of fun to read....thanks for sharing...
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