We’re a little bit late for the gig at a local convalescent home. I’m at the bass player’s house loading up instruments.
Suddenly, I notice the familiar odor of cat sh*t. Yuk, I’m the victim, and of course I happen to be wearing shoes with a nice thick tread. No time to run home and change shoes, so I try my best at the old ‘scuffle back and forth in the dirt’ technique.
At first I think I’ve done okay, but as we are driving to the gig, it becomes apparent that I have failed miserably in my efforts to dispose of the fragrance in question.
So we get to the gig, and I make a quick run to the bathroom, lock the door and begin trying to scrub the sole of the unfortunate shoe in the sink with what appears to be some moderate success.
About this time things go from bad to worse the sink drain seems to be a clogged and I now am faced with a sink full of … well you know what.
Naturally, at that moment there’s a knock at the bathroom door. Yikes! ‘Just a minute. I’ll be right out’
Fortunately, there’s a plunger in this bathroom. I guess I’m not the first to face a clogged drain, although maybe the first to face one with this particular content.
Eventually, I manage clear the drain and clean the sink up. I exit the bathroom expecting to see some irate person waiting but they seem to have moved on.
During the gig, I still notice some rather noticeable whiffs from the direction of my feet and some occasional looks from fellow band members, but I somehow make it thru.
Hmmm…did we play ‘The Cat Came Back’ that day.
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