A Band Plays The Green Room

I’m behind the bar, chatting with a friend. We’re talking about something naughty, not going to go into it here. Kid comes up, probably 17-18, he says hi to my friend, then says, I think we’re going to play in the green room tonight. The green room?  I say, incredulously. How the hell is that going to work?  The green room is a small space. Fits a couch, and a little pathway in front of it. He says, we were thinking about playing in the Men’s room, but it smells like piss.

Yeah, sorry about that. Adds to the charm of the place.

See, bands have played all over the place in the bar. On the stage, of course. On the floor, in front of the stage. Upstairs, by the sound booth, the men’s bathroom, yes. ON the bar. (One guy with an acoustic). The front atrium before you come into the bar.

Whatever. Let them play in the green room. Keep things interesting.

Kid leaves, I go back to bartending.

Twenty minutes later, the band starts playing. Hey. They sound pretty good! I see a group of people watching from the doorway. Nobody’s at the bar, what the hellz, I’ll check it out.

I walk to the green room, peak my head in. There’s three people cramped on the couch, two standing beside it. Drummer, guitarist/singer singing through an amp. Garage-y sound, harsh, but alive. I listen a little bit more, then return to my post behind the bar.

They finish the set, I’d say it was a success. Small crowd applauding vigorously.

The second band starts setting up in front of the stage. Sorry guys, you lose out on the battle of who can play in the most original spot.

Now what’s left?  The scary basement. How about the women’s bathroom, the band members each in their own stalls, doors closed?

That wouldn’t be bad.

And then maybe the band could all take a shit while they’re playing, and when the last chords ring out

They all flush.

-Clint Curtis

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