Hollywood: Rock Of Ages

by Chris Solberg

  San Francisco was a good time. I loved to play in this city except when the tide in the bay would go down. It would have that typical musty, saltwater fish air to sniff freely and enjoy (if you like stuff like that). We played at a club called The Stone. We had played there several times in the past and we always enjoyed the club. We always had a hard time parking the RV on the damn hill that was located in the front of the Stone, I’m glad I wasn’t driving!

  All of these small four day tours were usually booked with the band Quiet Riot. We were able to land those shows because we had the same management company, Future Star Management. Future Star was run by the fattest, ugliest, sweatiest, and smelliest guy I had ever met, Paul Shanker. Paul’s nick-name was “fat-man”. I think he managed Warrant in the past, because there is an exact image of fat-man on the front of Warrant’s platinum selling CD “Dirty, Rotten, Filthy, Stinking Rich.” Fat-man would always speak with a watery slur as if he were drunk and had a mouth full of saliva. He waddled around like a walking pumpkin, with extra small legs. He had little tiny T-rex arms that could not quiet reach anything around the large gut that he was transporting in front of him. His head was extremely large and square, a lot like Sponge Bob Square Pants. Fat-man was always out of breath, even if he was sitting on a couch. He would sweat while sitting, and his hair was so greasy, you could have twisted it into a knot and removed a quart of oil for your next engine lube. It was not a pretty sight, but he could always land the gigs with the good bands, so we put up with his disgusting odors and looks.

  Quiet Riot would play with us in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Phoenix or San Francisco, but not Fresno. Maybe they knew something we did not. The singer of Quiet Riot, Kevin Dubrow was usually a complete dick to me, and not any nicer to the rest of the band. I always attempted to be nice to Kevin, but without fail, he was a total ass to me. Eventually I gave up trying to be friendly with Kevin, and I accepted the fact that we would never get along. After that, whenever we played a show with Quiet Riot, we would try everything we could to make Kevin Dubrow’s life miserable. It was fun because we would do whatever we could to not get caught by him or his band, while we made things very uncomfortable for Kevin. I would always be sure to let weirdos backstage to meet him. We would search for girls that wanted to meet him. The uglier the girls, the better. We would bring the really disgusting girls back by the dozens and personally escort them to Quiet Riot’s dressing room. While Kevin and his crew were busy getting rid of the unwanted people in his private backstage area, we would take all of the beer and wine out of his room and hide it in our room. I don’t know if Quiet Riot ever knew that we were screwing with them.

  After playing a good show in San Francisco, we spent the night in the RV on the street just outside the club. The City’s Code Enforcement advised us that we could not longer camp on the street, so we left for Fresno at six in the morning. It was only a few hours to get to Fresno and we arrived extremely early at 10 am. We parked outside the club in Fresno and walked in to see if anyone was around. The bar owner was there and he invited us inside to get out of the heat. Fresno in the summer time is an absolute heat box. This town is by far the least attractive place in California, but that did not matter to Lizzie. We were going where the money was, and believe it or not, you could make good money in this place. We had already spent a full day in the motor home and the sewer tank meter was showing as being close to full. We asked the bar owner if there were any RV dump sites in the area. He knew exactly where the nearest sight was. Lizzie and Vince drove the RV over to the dump site to empty the ever-stinking sewage tank on the RV.

  Lizzie returned with the motor home and a full sewage tank. Lizzie advised that they wanted $15.00 to dump the sewage at the station. Lizzie explained that was way too much money to spend to simply dump old water. I thought it was a good deal. Hell, what are you going to do with an RV full of raw sewage? Lizzie would soon answer that question of mine. Here we were at 11 am on a hot Saturday morning, stinking up the parking area of the bar with our RV. The flies were gathering around the RV so we decided It was time to dump the tank. Lizzie went back into the bar and asked the bartender if he had any rope or twine around the place. The bartender without questioning why, fetched some rope and gave it to Lizzie. Lizzie summoned me to help him with the RV. Stupid me, I did not ask what we were going to do. Now, you would think that I would catch on to the fact that the RV’s sewer needed to be dumped and I was going to help. Lizzie and I hopped into the RV and left while the rest of the band hung out at the bar.

  Lizzie drove not more than a half of a mile, when he pointed off to an open field and told me that we were going into the field to dump the sewage. This did not sound like a very good idea to me, but of course I went along anyway. Lizzie drove the RV into the middle of the field and stopped in a nice flat spot. He got out, tied a rope onto some lever and handed me the rest of the rope. Lizzie told me that when he yells the word, just give the rope a nice hard tug. I told Lizzie this would be a really bad idea. Lizzie insisted that it was a good idea and noting could possibly go wrong. Lizzie got into the RV and started up some pump that allegedly connected to the sewer. He yelled out the small side bathroom window to pull the rope. I pulled... nothing happened. I pulled again... nothing happened. Lizzie screwed around with some switches and pumps inside the RV. “Pull again”, yelled Lizzie. Nothing. Lizzie got out and walked to the outside sewer hookup and said that there was a problem with one of the valves holding the sewage back. He had a wrench in his hands and he calmly worked on the stuck valve. Just when he thought he might have fixed the problem, he told me that he almost had the valve open, but he would need help pulling the wrench around the sewer pipe. I came over and we both gave the wrench a good hard tug. The valve opened but the sewer pump was already running, so raw sewage came spraying out the side of the motor home in a blast of filth. The sewage splashed my boots and pants and soaked Lizzie from the knees down. Lizzie and I ran away while the RV continued to spew a foul stench of liquid and solids out the sides and into the dirt field.

  That was not worth saving $15 dollars!

  We both smelled like shit and had all sorts of chunks and bits of toilet paper on us. What do you do? You don’t even want to touch it, but it’s all over you. And now we had to get back in the RV and drive to the club. It was now noon and Lizzie and I smelled like a ripe portable toilet. We returned to the club and tried not to say anything to anyone. When we entered the club, it was obvious that somehow we had spilled sewage on us because of the gross stench that was coming off the both of us. The owner just laughed and directed us to his personal office that, thank god, had a shower and laundry area. After we cleaned up, we sat down at the bar. The owner of the bar already thought we were crazy. He offered us a drink and wanted to hear all about the mess we had caused down the street. We sat and told jokes and goofed around for the rest of the day. Nobody in Fresno batted an eye at our dumping raw sewage down the street. (weird)

  As we were enjoying the drinks at the open bar, the telephone rang behind the bar. We kidded around by saying things like; “If that’s my wife, I’m not here!” The bartender seemed suddenly serious while on the telephone and did not appear to be amused with our antics. I thought for sure it was the police calling about the sewage and my stomach started tying up in a knot. The bartender had a really spaced out look, held up the phone and yelled for Vince Votel. Vince said, “It’s for me? Shit, I must be popular if people are calling me here!” The bartender did not crack a smile or give any facial expression. Vince grabbed the phone and within seconds changed from Mr. happy, to a complete zombie. Vince dropped the phone on the bar, looked at all of us with disbelief and said, “My dad just died.” At first we thought he was trying to screw with us, but you could tell that he was not kidding. Vince walked around the side of the bar and collapsed to his knees and began to cry. The entire mood in the bar plummeted to its nadir. We gave our best to console Vince, but noting worked. Vince went to the back office and was on the phone for
the next hour with his family. Lizzie explained to the bartender that we would re-schedule for another date. Vince exited the back office and immediately ordered the strongest drink that the bartender could make. Vince downed his drink and ordered another of the same. Before Vince knew what hit him, he had a pretty good buzz going. Vince kept ordering drinks and the rest of us followed suit. We had several drinks, then more drinks, and more, and more. After a few hours of heavy alcohol abuse, we planned on continuing with the show that night.

  I have no idea what Vince was thinking. I figured he would want to head home and start mourning over the passing of his father. Vince repeatedly stated that he was going to play the show in memory of his father, because that is what he would have wanted. At this point we were all fairly shit faced, so none of us argued.

  It was time to go on stage, and we had a pretty impressive crowd at this little dumpy bar in Fresno. We were extremely intoxicated by now and the fans could see our inebriated state of minds. As I prepared the stage gear for the show, there was an older lady that kept smiling in my direction and

  mouthing something toward me. I had no idea what the hell she was saying, but I had a feeling it was sexual in nature. This older woman was probably in her forties and she was standing with one of the hottest girls I had seen in quite a while. The hot chick was not the usual girl you would find in a place like Fresno. The forty year old lady continually winked, and mouthed unknown things to me. I was used to this behavior from ladies, so I did not react to her obvious come-ons.

  We began playing the show and the booze continued to flow. I think it was the passing of Vince’s father that put us in a major alcohol induced zombie coma. Now don’t get me wrong, this was not the first time we had been fairly buzzed playing, but this night, it was in the air... we were blasted! It was one of the last songs, and I was having a difficult time standing and we still had one, maybe two songs to go. I remember thinking that I could not wait for this show to be over, because I was really close to falling off the stage. I did not make it more than five minutes and somehow I slipped and fell right onto my back, guitar still in hand. The song was still in full swing, the rest of the band did not even notice that I was lying on my back strumming the chords of the song, trying my best not missing a beat. The guitar solo came up, I played it and continued to play guitar while I was flat on my back. The song was finished, and I slowly made my way up to my feet. Everyone clapped and yelled...I guess they thought that was part of the show. Lizzie finally noticed what happened. Lizzie yelled on the microphone, “Good night, we are Spiders & Snakes!”

  Oohhhhh thank god! I don’t think I could pull off another song. I wandered off the side of the stage and made it over to the bar. I ask myself to this day: “I know I am completely wasted, so why am I sitting down at the bar for another drink? Am I crazy or just stupid?”

  I continued to have cocktails, and more cocktails. People were in mega party mode at this place. It was a great atmosphere. The strange part was... every mom in Fresno brought their daughters along so they could offer them to the band. Thats right! Offer their daughters to the band! As if their daughters were being sacrificed to the gods. It was really creepy. The mothers were dressed in eighties rock attire. I think this was in hope that one of the band members might like them instead of their 19 year old young adult. Some of the moms didn’t look too bad and others looked like absolute shit. We had every type of mom passing their children off to the band. We had fat, tall, ugly, small, thin and the occasional good looking mother. That was rare in these parts. We always figured that the moms wanted their daughters to hook up with some potential rock star so she would be set for life and not have to work. I mean, the moms would not have to work. It was every rock mothers dream to have one of us whisk her child away, wed them, and then take care of the entire family for the rest of their life. It did not seem like the way to go, but who could argue their logic? There was nothing for them in Fresno, that is for sure. The lady in her forties that was winking and mouthing weird things to me earlier in the evening while standing next to her daughter, was now right behind me at the bar, tapping on my shoulder. This ladies daughter was not old enough to sit up at the bar, but she could stand next to it (how stupid is that rule?). Both the older lady and her 19 year old were asking me every question on the planet regarding the band. I sat and appeased them by answering as much as I possibly could. As the booze continued to assault my better judgment, the mom was looking better and better. I look back at things now and I realize this, the daughter was much closer to my age. Well the booze kept flowing, but nobody was looking any better then the two ladies I was talking to.

  Finally we were at the end of the evening. The club still packed to capacity, we began to filter outside to go our own way. I was sleeping in the RV out back, so I only had 200 feet to walk before I was in my bed. This seemed like a very easy task. Walk 200 feet and collapse on your bed in the RV. I wish I could say it was that easy.

  Against my better judgment, I hopped in the car with the forty year old lady and her daughter. I had no idea who these people were. Probably not the best idea to hop in their vehicle and drive to an unknown destination, but what the hell...

  I remember getting into the front seat of an older Honda sedan. Inside the Honda was a bunch of old fast food wrappers that I had to push off the seat, so I could sit down. This should have been my warning! I wish my mind was working because it would have screamed, “Chris, get out of the car now!!!!” Nope. My brain was on pause, and the devil was on my shoulder saying, “Go ahead! Everything will be great! Think of the great adventure you will have!” We were in the car for not more than a few minutes when I began to feel very sick. I thought, no, no, nooooo. I rolled down the window to get some fresh air. The horrible feeling of being sick was not going away. My mouth began to water and the taste of electrified aluminum raced across my tongue. I knew it was only a matter of time before the flood of puke came up my throat, and out into the air for everyone to enjoy. It was over 100 degrees outside and the thick, rancid, heat of the night air was not helping my problem. The lady turned on the air conditioner and told me to roll up the side window. Just as I rolled up my window, I could smell the disgusting scent of a old fast food burger wrapper with rotten sauce. I lost it! I tried to roll the passenger window down, but could not get it down fast enough. Projectile vomit sprayed against the closed window and splashed back into the passenger seat and sideways into the back seat where the 19 year old girl was sitting. I tried not to hit the 19 year old with any more barf, so I turned my head to the front and continued my barfing all over the dash board of the Honda. The two ladies were so calm it seemed more like a bad dream. They were both consoling me as I puked my guts out the entire ride. I remember pulling up to a trailer park that was dark and dingy. I was not happy to see the trailer park or the puke all over my clothing. I was starting to pass out, but I was trying to stay awake. The booze was overwhelming... I was on the verge of blacking out.

  I stumbled into the trailer and wandered right into the bathroom. I ended up in a bathtub with the two ladies leaning over me, pouring cold water over me, while wiping the remaining barf off of my clothing. This really sucked, but the two woman seemed to enjoy coddling me as if I were a helpless little baby. I was not digging this at all. I hated every minute of it. Most guys would probably say, “If that were me, I would have both chicks in the tub naked washing my back.” Not me! I just wanted to get out of there. The only thing that was going through my mind was, “How do I get out of here and please God, I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

  I was sick from drinking too much booze and I felt really dehydrated. The mom and daughter team were being really weird and stroking my hair and they were both telling me that everything was going to be alright. I settled into the tub and said screw it, since my clothes were already wet. The cool water felt good, so I stayed in the tub.

  I was fading in and out, making every attempt to stay awake and sober up. I remember making a promise th
at I did not keep. I prayed to God and said, “Get me through this and I will never drink again.” I rarely prayed, but the woman were getting stranger and acting weirder as the night wet on. At one point, I thought that these girls might do something crazy like want to drink my blood, chop me up in pieces, and bury me in a shallow grave. My mind was playing games with me. I honestly did not know what was going to happen. I had way too much alcohol to make sensible decisions. The two girls kept prancing around, repeating things like, “Oh baby, don’t worry, we are your angels, we will take care of you. We will take care of you honey.” The tone of their voices, the look in there eyes, the way they were prancing around, I was worried. I was thinking, What type of mother exposes her daughter to this type of nonsense? A crazy one! My attempt to keep my eyes open failed. I passed out, fully clothed in some strangers bathtub.

  I woke up to the sun peeking through the bathroom window. I had no idea what time it was, or where I was. I vaguely remember the two girls being weird, that is it. My clothes were still on, so that was a relief. I looked down at my soaked clothing that had small chunks of what I assumed was puke. My boots were full of water, but the tub was dry. I guess the water slowly drained over night as I was passed out. I attempted to stand up, but it was if I were paralyzed. I could hardly move. My legs, back and neck felt like I had played football in the NFL the night before. I finally stood up, legs wobbly, head spinning, shit!!!! I barfed again. All over the bathroom floor mat and of course some of the puke had to get on the front of my shirt. I took the shirt off right away and tore off my pants, shoes and the rest of my clothing. I started to shower off the rest of the mess when the door came busting open and there was the mother and daughter that brought me home. I don’t think they ever went to bed. They still had their clothes on from last night and appeared to be wasted out of their minds.