We were playing a mid-afternoon wedding at a nice hotel. We were a pretty good wedding band and could even get the crowd dancing during daylight events. Not bad!
All was going well until the hotel wheeled out the dessert table and placed it directly in front of the band's PA system. One of the guests, a lady of about 300 pounds, ran up to the table and proceeded to make a scene yelling "turn it down, you're too loud, we can't hear" in between stuffing her face with chocolate cake and petits fours.

I guess she couldn't figure out why the band would turn up the volume just to disrupt her snack.

I played a lounge gig at a famous restaurant/hotel in Buellton, CA for 3 weeks before and after XMAS, 1979. The female singer was outstanding in every way; voice, attitude, looks- and she really knew how to hold a room. I had known her for a few years, and always loved working with her.

The backing trio was drums (me), piano and a bass player who doubled on vibes. A little sophisticated for the California suburban cowboy crowd, but we made out OK. (Although beginning the 2nd night, I had to sing a mini-set of C/W songs on acoustic guitar to warm things up).

Unfortunately, this wonderful singer and front-person left a few days after we got there, having been booked by her agent for a return trip to Japan, where she had been singing in much fancier hotels. Eddie (the agent) sent a replacement. Brenda was an OK singer but to put it bluntly, she was kinda crude.

On Sundays, the restaurant put on a big brunch, and we were allowed to eat with the guests. During the week, all they gave us was -you guessed it- pea soup.
As we enjoyed the generous spread, Brenda leaned sideways in her chair, ripped a loud fart, and as she stood up, announced to the restaurant "I'm gonna go make some more room."

Did I say crude?

I did fall in love with one the waitresses, but that's another story.

During the 1980's I played in a band with some of my friends I grew up with and went to high school with. We put together a rocking blues band and performed old blues standards, popular rock anthems, and our original contributions. We performed at this event numerous times throughout the eighties and had a very good following.

In 1985 we performed at the event and completed an hour and a half set in ninety degree temperature. We received a big hand from the crowd after it and proceeded to mingle with the crowd and inhaled a lot of cold beers. After about a half hour of cooling down I went to find the lady who organized the band line-up so as to get paid. She was an older white woman with a truck driver attitude and disposition...drank and cussed with the best of them.

I asked some of the stage hands where "Linda" was at and they said she was back stage behind the drum risers. I made my way to that area and as I turned the corner the next act started playing. I called "Linda's" name as I approached her as she had her back turned to me. She did not turn around, because of the music being played, so I went up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

This startled her and she spun around aggressively. Upon doing this I observed a large pizza pie in her hands and a big slice in her mouth. I stepped forward to ask her about getting paid and she hovered over the pie like a momma bear protecting a cub. At this point I told her" Hey pizza chomping momma I don't want your pizza I want to get paid!". She shook her head yes and produced the money.

From that point on we called her the Pizza Chomping Momma and even wrote and performed a song dedicated to her every time we played. (It was a parody of a Box Car Willy song)

Back in 1985 I played at a popular bar in Olivet. We had some time to kill before we had to play, so we ordered a pizza and subsequently devoured it. A short time later we were on stage performing. The dance floor was packed and there was this one particular lady who was dancing the entire time; she was absolutly beautiful, like a model. She had very long straight blond hair and looked like someone from one of those shampoo commercials (where every hair is perfect).

I got up to my microphone and began some backup vocals and a piece of a black olive from the pizza must have been lodged in my mouth, as it went flying out and landed in this lady's hair.
She was out there dancing all night with that in her hair. My first thought was "I wonder if anybody saw that," and realized that with the stage lights it was probably seen from the back of the room.

I was booked by an agency to play sax on a jazz gig on Thanksgiving Day for a corporate client at a very nice resort. Thinking there would be good food, as I was used to working for bands rather than agencies, I didn't eat lunch in preparation for my Thanksgiving feast at the gig. Surely they wouldn't keep us from the buffet on Thanksgiving!

5:00 call time arrives. I set up, sound check, and listen in horror as all the other gentlemen on the gig are discussing the dinners they just had.. at home. As it turned out, the gig was for a Canadian company, who don't observe Thanksgiving on the same day as we do in the States, and it was plated. We wouldn't be fed.

By the time the gig was over (10 PM) and I packed up and headed home, I was starving. Naturally, not a single business was open on Thanksgiving Day at 10pm, not even a grocery store. I got home and had to call my roommate and beg him to bring me leftovers from his family dinner so I could have something to eat.

To add insult to injury, I didn't get my check from the agent until February of the following year. Worst Thanksgiving Ever.