Alaska
Statue of Liberty
Egyptian Dream
Gordon Jones/Stork Club/Colorado
Hairy Dreams
Larry Bob
Trombone Cleaner ?
Macbeth
Aura
Bass Fetish
Birdland-New York

Alaska

Although I must say I hated the idea of going to Alaska to finish out my time in the U.S. Army, I did however, enjoy some of the largest state's unique attributes.
The most memorable were the Aurora Borealis, migrating salmon, moose wandering the streets,a myriad of wildlife, the Lion's Mane Mushroom(delicious), midnight baseball, scenic mountain vistas and music gigs aplenty at the many missile sites and DEW line bases that surrounded Fairbanks.
The only downside was isolation from the family, and of course, the cold.
The cold in Alaska manifests itself in many ways. We had to wear parkas with hoods surrounded with wolverine fur and a circle of wire imbedded in the hood. This wire allowed you to mold the opening you would breath and see through to fit the temperature. When it was -50 and colder we would squeeze it down to about a two inch diameter hole. That helped warm the extremely cold air before it got into your lungs. There was a service station on the highway that went to the airport that featured a display of how the various weights of oil were affected by the cold. Cans of oil from 5 to 90 weight were there with a metal rod in them for testing the viscosity. At -20, the thirty weight was frozen! The cars had to be fitted with either "head bolt heating elements" or "circulating heaters" that connected to the radiator. Vapor barrier devices were glued to the windows to prevent ice build-up on the INSIDE of the car. Trickle chargers were a must to keep the batteries functioning. I even saw men lighting fires under oil pans in a desperate effort to get their engines to turn over. At -20 and colder, your car's tires would freeze square on the bottom and give you quite a bumpy ride, until the friction of moving warmed them up. At -50 and colder, a cup a water thrown into the air would instantly evaporate and not a drop would hit the ground. The coldest day I survived was -82!
One incredibly funny sight was an "Infantry Ski Parade". The troops would don their battle whites and waltz before the reviewing stand while our band played a medley of "Over The Waves" and "The Blue Danube". If that didn't strike fear in the hearts of the enemy, I don't know what would.
The brass horns were subject to freezing, so we were provided with a warm-up tent containing a "Yukon Stove". When slides and valves were stuck, the bandsmen smartly marched back to the heated tent to free them up. We didn't even think about faking a frozen horn, cause we heard the punishment for that particular infraction was truly Draconian.
The band was without a cymbal player for quite a while, so an emergency call went out. A soldier was taken out of an Advanced Infantry Unit who said he played cymbals in his high school band. It was during marching practice that he committed a really funny mistake. We had been practicing a marching maneuver called the "Freeze". The band leader would shout e.g., column left, freeze. We would do a half-turn and freeze, awaiting his next command which was "Hit it". Then we would continue on marching. The first time this was pulled on the new cymbal player, fresh from the infantry, he did was he was trained to do upon hearing the command "Hit it". He fell on the ground and covered his head with the cymbals! We loved it!
One summer the band started rehearsing Christmas songs. We all thought it was weird, but of course, did not question the Band Director's motives. He even recorded the rehearsals, which was really unusual. The reason for all this was revealed when our supply sergeant returned from leave with a record of Christmas songs entitled, "Christmas In North Pole". It was us, the Army Band, plus singers from the University of Alaska. Of course, all of this was highly illegal. But, instead of blowing the whistle on the Director, the senior NCO's decided to blackmail him. We literally did nothing for about eight months. We woke up late, had minimal rehearsals, drank booze in the barracks and didn't clean a thing. The "Life of Riley" for a GI. This nirvana came to a abrupt end when the new Deputy Post Commander pulled a surprise inspection. He was so infuriated by the condition of the band and our quarters he came down on us severely.
The clean-up never ended. We had inspections at 2:00 a.m. and forced marches. All stops were pulled to make us as uncomfortable as possible.
Finally, one of the bandsmen wrote his congressman about what was going on and why. There was an in-depth investigation.
The rehearsal hall was converted into an interrogation room and each one of us was questioned about our complicity, if any, in the crime.
As a result: The Band Director was cashiered out of the service. The Mayor of North Pole, Alaska was impeached. One officer was found guilty of running a prostitution ring. Several professors from the University were fired and some of our NCO's faced court-martial proceedings. An Artillery Captain was put in charge of the band. It was miserable. Luckily, at that point I was a 'short-timer' and shortly thereafter rotated back to the lower forty for discharge.
What it all boils down too is this. I learned at an early age that the music business can be full of surprises, both weird and wonderful.
On a happy note, while in Alaska, my second child, Tim, was born. My third child, Danny, was conceived. And, daughter Erin learned at an early age how to be a survivor.

Statue of Liberty

I was a very little boy when WW-II ended, but I still remember several things about the war.
My dad, Leo O'Neil Sr. was an Air Raid Warden. His job during a "black out" was to roam the neighborhood to see if anyone had lights showing from their windows.
I recall that he took the job very seriously.
Of course, our family always had our blankets hanging over the windows. You can still see the nails on which they were hung today.
And, sad to say, I, as a young boy, had, as my toys, tools of war. I can remember playing with toy tanks, planes, battleships and guns.
One night we all went outside during a black out and we saw a squadron of airplanes flying low among the clouds.
Mother was very concerned and that apprehension was felt by me. Consequently, I have had recurring nightmares about that night.
In the dream I see large numbers of planes flying though clouds and I always am standing on the corner of 4th and Constance. I wake up with a feeling of dread. I have not had that dream for a longtime, but I expect that it could come back.
When the war finally ended all the family was celebrating.
I remember mother saying that now, they can relight the torch on the Statue of Liberty.
I immediately ran to one of the windows that faced Constance St. and pulled up the shade.
I saw a light in the distance and yelled out, "I can see the torch".
Mother came over and looked out and said, "I can see it too ... everything is alright."
Wasn't that sweet and understanding of her?

Egyptian Dream

In this dream, I was a reporter covering the opening of an ancient mummy case.
There were scientists, other reporters and public officials assembled to witness the event. We were gathered in a circle around the mummy case in the bottom of a pyramid.
As the chief scientist opened the lid, a unique monkey-like creature jumped out and bit him.
In the confusion, the creature escaped. One of the scientist then reached into the casket and removed a golden chalice bearing hieroglyphics. Another scientist read it and declared that it gave directions for mixing an antidote for the bite. This potion was necessary to save the bitten scientist's life.
At this point, a thief grabbed the cup and also escaped into the crowd.
Now, conflicting factions started to form, each with their own agenda. There were those who wanted to kill the monkey. Those who wanted it alive for study. And, those who wanted to recover the chalice to save the scientist's life.
Somehow, I thought, I could make all of these things happen.
Then found myself standing in a huge Mosque. From down a long hall, a robed woman beckoned to me.
"You have questions for 'The Mandala'", she said. I nodded.
She then lead me past two soldiers armed with lances that were posted on opposite sides of a massive doorway. The holy-lady pulled a velvet rope that hung from the ceiling. The door opened into a cathedral, whose main feature, located at the far end, was "The Mandala".
It was circular and divided into concentric panels which were tinted all the colors of a rainbow. The darkest colors were in the outermost band and they lightened as they approached the center, which was pure white.
"Ask your questions", she prompted.
When I asked for the location of the monkey, she said to look into the blue panel. As I peered into it, it became a video-like screen. I could see an area of woods, which I recognized. And sure enough, there running through the brush was the monkey.
Next, I asked for the location of the thieves who made off with the golden chalice. She directed me to look into the aquamarine panel. This time I saw the crooks seated at a table, drinking and playing cards. The cup was visible on the table and through the window, I could read the name of their hotel.
I thanked her profusely and turned to leave.
"Wait", she said. "I know you have another question for the Mandala." I thought for a moment and asked, "I would like to know about the origin of life." She pointed to the center of the circle. And I looked into the bright white light, confident that I would find the truth.
It was then that I awoke, squinting from a sunbeam that had breached a tiny hole in the window shade and was shining in my eyes.

Gordon Jones/Stork Club/Colorado

I met Gordon when I was about 16 years old.
We never had a piano player in our first band, "The Downbeats", and Gordon was a welcome addition. Looking back on that time, I can't figure out how we made music at all. No piano or guitar, and a washtub for a bass. Weird. What really gets me is that we had lots of jobs!
Gordon was in the band that Steve Borello put together to go to New York and play at the world famous "Stork Club". There was a musicians' strike in New York city and two bands from the south were fool enough to go up there and cross the line. Us, from New Orleans and a Latin group from Houston went blindly into the breach.
We never really understood the danger we were in. It didn't even bother us when we heard that the secretary of owner Sherman Billingsly was beaten up shortly after we got there. Still, we naively walked to and from work every night. Amazingly, nothing bad happened to us.
I liked New York and never felt threatened going anywhere. And, I went everywhere: Harlem, Coney Island, Brooklyn, "Birdland", the jazz club, Central Park and to all the typical tourist attractions. It was just great.
Now, back to Gordon.
It's when you room with someone that you see all the strangeness in their personalities. Gordon was a guy who was easy to tease. He was vulnerable and slow. So, we picked on him and exploited his weaknesses. Remember, we were just 18 year olds and didn't know better.
Gordon made a lot of chewing noise when he ate. So, Tom Casey (trumpet) came up with the idea to also, make a lot of noise, and on his signal, stop abruptly. This left Gordon's chewing and snorting really obvious. For a long time Gordon would just look around when it suddenly got real quiet and wonder what happened. We, of course, would crack up. When at last, he finally got the joke, he screamed, "You're driving me nuts", and left the table. This trick was repeated at least once a week, much to Gordon's annoyance.
One day, Pete Hearty(sax and clarinet) and I were walking around and we noticed a full-length poster of a woman that looked exactly like the ghost Gordon told us had killed one of his aunts. The story of how she was killed was told to him many times during his childhood by his mother and uncles. He believed it as absolute truth.
They told him that when his aunt was a teen, the family heard her screaming, and followed the sound to a closet. They were unable to get the door open for a long time, and when they finally did, it was too late. The aunt was slumped dead on the floor, while a mysterious form floated up through the ceiling. This apparition was described as a woman wearing a long cape and carrying a sword. The woman on the poster, trying to resemble a bullfighter, was dressed exactly like that.
We bought the poster and started planning an elaborate trick.
We decided to wait until Gordon had a date with the hat-check girl from the club. He'd always come home drunk as a skunk and pass out quickly. We waited for the right night. Then, we went to work.
The poster was cut out and the trimmed picture was taped to the wall of his closet. We positioned two candles and baffled their glow just enough to make the poster barely visible and ghost-like.
Paul Staehle(drums), loosened the knob on the door to where it would pull off if someone tried to open it. We also unscrewed the light bulbs.
The guys hid behind the couch while I awakened Gordon. I shook him and got him to open his eyes by telling him I felt a strange "presence" in the room.
Gordon had a ritual he would go through whenever he entered a new house or room. He would try to make contact.
He'd say, "Are there any spirits in this room? If you're a good spirit knock once, and if you're a bad spirit knock twice." I saw him do it many times.
He sat up in the bed and got about halfway through it before he caught sight of the ghost out of the corner of his eye.
He believed it was the real thing, cause he let out an incredible scream and made for the door. When the knob pulled off in his hand, he screamed again and tried the light switch. When that didn't work, he ran screaming to the window and was trying to jump out(we were on the seventh floor). Tom Casey ran from behind the couch and grabbed him to keep him from jumping. Gordon must have thought the ghost had him and fainted dead away to the floor.
We all stood around him, thinking we had killed him. After we realized he was still breathing, we got some water to throw on him and finally got him awake and calmed down.
We all apologized many times for pulling such a cruel stunt. Then we went to our own beds to get some sleep.
I was awakened about an hour later when Gordon poured a bucket of very hot water on my head. We got in a shoving fight that, mirabile dictu, ended in a pillow fight. Two pillows were broken and the whole roomed was covered in feathers. Gordon overpowered me(he was 6' 3") and pushed me out of the room dressed only in wet drawers and feathers. I begged and pleaded him to let me back in the room. After about 15 minutes he relented and we made up.
Now we had to sneak out of the hotel and move. There was no way we could clean up all those feathers, and besides, we were afraid of what the manager of the place might do to us. After some fancy hide and seek, we finally got checked into the VanCourtland Hotel on 51st street at about 4 am. What a night!
That evening on the way to work, Gordon, Tom and I stopped at the Chinese Laundry to drop off our clothes. When Gordon plopped his on the counter, about 10 feathers wafted into the air. Tom went immediately into one of his laughing fits. The Chinaman felt he had to respond to this and said to Gordon and I, "Your flen is one happy ferrow". Then, as usual, we cracked up!

Gordon in "Colorado":
I feel I have to formally apologize to Gordon and the world for this next trick.
I guess being young and insensitive had something to do with it. Or, I could say, "The devil made me do it."
Let's start out by saying that Gordon had an enormous appetite. His standard fare consisted of: two steaks with salad and veggies, two stacks of pancakes, several glasses of milk and sometimes a chocolate malted and a piece of pie.
This was always consumed enthusiastically and accompanied by a variety of loud chewing and swallowing sounds. He was really something!
On the day we left New York for New Orleans, Gordon was feeling pretty down. He had gone to Coney Island two days before and had gotten a bad sunburn. He went to a doctor and got some pain-killers for the ride home. Apparently, his appetite was unaffected, cause when we all went to eat before taking off, Gordon really stuffed it up. He figured he wouldn't be able to eat for a while and ordered his usual mega-meal.
He then settled into the back seat of the car, took three pills and in five minutes was out like a light.
After driving for about an hour and a half, we came upon a unique town in Pennsylvania. It was called "Colorado".
I don't know how big the actual town was, but what was visible on the feeder of the turnpike was about two hundred feet of storefronts masquerading as an old western mining town.
Although it was obviously a concocted tourist attraction, I must say it looked very authentic, outfitted with cactus, windmills, oil wells, an old mine entrance and other typically western artifices.
They even had several cows grazing in the adjoining field.
A huge sign read, "WELCOME TO COLORADO".
As we came to a stop in this pastoral setting, a bell went off in my head.
"Gordon, wake up", I yelled while shaking him violently. "You've been sleeping for two days! We're already in Colorado."
I thought the trick would end there, but Gordon really bought it. He looked around groggily and said, "Wow! Sleeping for two days, Colorado, I got to get something to eat!"
He headed directly for the restaurant and again, ordered the whole menu!
He made it all the way to the pie before he started turning green. Then he ran to the men's room to purge.
We stayed with him to make sure he was OK and overheard him telling the whole story about "sleeping for two days, all the way to Colorado", to a man who was also in the restroom.
The man said, "You been had son, you're in Pennsylvania, about an hour from New York."
Well, Gordon was too weak to fight, but he cursed us out all the way to Georgia. And, being such a forgiving lad(he had to be), we still got along fine after that.

Hairy Dreams

In this first dream, I was attending a music festival.
The headline attraction was the late, great Latin band-leader, Xavier Cugat. As usual, he was holding his dog, a Mexican Hairless, as he conducted the band.
After the set, I approached him and asked the name of his dog.
In a thick Spanish accent he replied, "Hees name ees ROGAINE"!

This dream had me shopping in a store like Macy's or Foley's.
In the men's toiletries department, I asked the clerk what a "Grey FILTER" for my beard would cost.
He said, "Oh, about $5.00 a month.

Larry Bob

Larry Bob Lehmann played steel guitar at Gilley's during it's heyday of the 80's.
He earned the sobriquet "Bourbon Cowboy" because of his excessive and lustful use of alcohol. It was this drinking that probably led to his early death at age 41, although, the actual cause was never disclosed.
I think it somehow fitting that a mystery surrounds his passing.
L.B. was a great, natural musician and an intelligent man who read the newspaper daily. His favorite writer was Mike Royko. He loved Archie Bunker. And, he often quoted the great line from the movie Amadeus,"Too Many Notes".
Since I'm impressed with a person's humor, it is fitting that I quote my two favorite L.B. lines.
1. During a rehearsal, our sound man approached Larry Bob and tried to convince him that he should put his amp out it front of him, facing backwards, to cut down on the club volume. The ensuing argument ended with the sound man throwing up his hands and leaving in a fit of frustration. Someone else in the band said, "Wow! What's wrong with that guy"? L.B. was quick to reply, "He must be having delusions of adequacy!"
2. At another rehearsal, L.B. was miffed cause our singer, Marian Dulin, was doing yet another slow song. Marion tried to hold her ground by explaining that besides it being a good song, it was recorded by the late, great, Patsy Cline.
L.B. said, "Humph! Patsy Cline. You know how she died don't cha?" Marian answered, "Sure, she died in a plane crash." L.B. jumped right on it. "Yeah, right, cause she sang the pilot to sleep!"
Two weeks before he left for the big jam in the sky, Larry Bob made a recording of one of his favorite steel instrumentals, "Long Black Limousine". Kelly Schoppa made sure it was played at the service. Lordy, there was not a dry eye there.
I really miss that crazy s.o.b. and can't help regretting how the good always seem to die young. I actually kissed him goodbye!
Play it Larry Bob. God love ya.

Larry Bob Lehmann, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil - 1986.

Trombone Cleaner ?

My first sexual affair took place while I was in High School.
When discussing the in and outs of this situation with some of my older musical pals, the subject of birth control came up. I was advised that the safest and the most pleasurable method was for the girl to douche afterwards.
My paramour said this was fine by her, the only problem being, since she lived with her parents, she had no place to stash the device.
My solution was brilliant.
I would keep it in my trombone case!
Since we usually scheduled our joustings after my weekend gigs, she quickly agreed.
This worked out perfectly until a classmate of mine called the house one night to borrow a schoolbook. The last place my dad searched was in my trombone case!
I knew something was wrong the minute I walked in the door, by my dad's coloring. He furiously ordered me out to the shed, where my horn-case sat ominously on his workbench. Fortunately, my dad took a couple of minutes to collect his thoughts and explain why he had the occasion to invade my sacrosanct property. This gave me the time to construct an excuse.
"Why dad," I said, "It's not unusual at all. We trombonist use them to clean our horns".
Luckily, he did not ask me to elaborate on the actual technique.
He did tell me to "get rid of that thing, cause it could give some people the wrong idea".

Macbeth

I was fighting sleep in my high school English class one Monday morning after having a gig the night before.
The teacher was droning away at the great Willy S's, "Macbeth".
He was at the part where the witches were stirring the cauldron when he decided to check to see just how "out of it" I was.
"Mr. O'Neil", he bellowed, "would you please repeat the last line that I just read."
Although I was half asleep, I did remember "something" that sounded familiar.
"Well, Mr. Suhor", I said, "I don't remember the whole line. But, I think it started with, 'Bubble, bubble, toilet trouble'."
The whole class, including the teacher, laughed for ten minutes.

Aura

I hadn't seen my friend Charlie Miller for over 20 years. We were good buddies in high school, but since we always lived it different cities, all we could do was write and talk occasionally on the phone.
I always liked and respected him for his musicianship and his weird sense of humor.
Then, one day he called to tell me he would be in Houston, playing with Mac Rebennack(Dr. John) in the Woodlands. Needless to say, I was anxious to see him. We arranged to meet at his hotel.
I got there at the agreed time and saw Freddie Staehle (Mac's drummer), standing in the lobby. After saying hello to Freddie, I asked him where was Charlie. He said he was on his way down.
I saw him get out of the elevator on the opposite side of the hotel and I thought he saw me.
But, instead of walking over to me, he took off, in his same, familiar crouched step, to his left.
Wow, I thought, he didn't see me.
I made eye contact with him again, but instead of coming toward me, this time he veered right.
He went through this move two or three more times before I went to get him. When I finally got to him, he had a strange look on in face and acted a little frightened.
"What's the matter Charlie", I asked. "Didn't you recognize me? Why didn't you come over?"
He got me again... "It was your aura", he explained. "It was so strong, I had to spiral in to it!"

Bass Fetish

This, by far, was the strangest gig of my entire life. It was around 1970 and I was playing with "Dr. John, the Night Tripper".
We were in Johnson City, Vermont at Goddard College. This was a very peaceful and woodsy setting for several weird groups of conventioneers.
There was a pack of political dissidents, a gay rights organization, the society of FM disk jockeys and a roving band of hippies that had pitched a campsite in a meadow on the edge of the campus. Also a summer-school class of "Nude Swimming" was being held in the pond.
I was also told during dinner in the cafeteria to be careful cause one of the punch-bowls was occasionally spiked with LSD.
There was an air of excitement about the place, fueled primarily by the constant parade of nude people walking about, presumably going to or from swimming.
We were scheduled to perform second that night, after a rock band from New York. So, early in the evening I walked out to the hippie campsite to see what was going on. Well, there must have been 30 various vehicles made into a circle and in the middle was a enthusiastic party. Lots of drugs and music, a roaring fire and many percussionists banging on everything from congas to triangles. I enjoyed the hospitality and played several tunes on a good set on bongos.
Right at sunset we were treated to a display of fireflies like I had never witnessed before. It was like someone turned on a switch, and there they were. A band of flickering light about three feet above the ground and about four feet high. Oh Wow, what a magical sight.
Later, the guys in the band assembled and pepped up by the wild events, paraded over to the auditorium playing "Iko Iko Inay".
Let me describe this auditorium. It was built to take advantage of a hill. The top of the hill was furthest from the stage and the stage was raised about six feet from the front row seats. So, this left quite a drop off at the back of the stage. The importance of this fact will reveal itself shortly. The rock band was about to get started and we were hanging out backstage. These were the first punky looking guys I had ever seen and they all sported "shag" haircuts and sneers on their faces. I guess they were going for belligerent and accomplished it.
Their first song was roundly and loudly booed and the whole audience was screaming for them to turn down the volume. This only pissed off the band and so they played even louder. Then the wildest thing happened. A bunch of tough-looking biker-type guys rushed the stage and proceeded to unplug the amps. The band protested and the melee escalated to the point where the whole rock band, amps and all, were tossed off the back-stage loading dock into the muddy area behind the auditorium. I couldn't believe it. It had been raining steadily for a week and it was a quagmire back there.
I didn't see if any of those fellows were seriously hurt caused we were being told, as they were falling, to get our asses out there a play some music!
We started setting up right away and as soon as I got my keyboard bass hooked up a guy walked up and pressed a few keys. Since nobody was playing those things back then, I went into my usual explanation about the instrument, thinking he was either a member of the press or a musician. He was neither.
What he was, was crazy. I couldn't get him to leave my bass alone and finally had to get one of the stage hands to remove him. We were naturally nervous about the show, especially after what had happened to the last band. But, after a couple of songs which were well received I felt better. That is until the "bass fetish" guy showed up again.
He came up to me in the middle of a song and, once again began playing the bass. This time I lost my temper and shoved him to the ground. The audience immediately booed at the violence, and I thought I was headed for the mud pit.
Instead, I found out they were booing him for interfering, and two stagehands picked him up a tossed him off the back of the stage into the mud. I thought that would settle it.
But, about ten minutes later, he came crawling out on the stage, covered with mud and made straight for the bass, again! This time the stage hands hauled him back stage, gagged him, tied him up and hung him from the rafters. He was wiggling and fighting, but he couldn't get down.
And, there he stayed until we finished our set.
I packed up quickly and got the hell out of there, so I don't know how he fared after that.
Dead tired and craving sleep I went to the dormitory room assigned to me, only to find two guys having sex in my bed. When I told them this was supposed to be my room, one of the guys said it was his room and had given it up since he had planned to go home for the weekend. He went on to say, "Well, I changed my plans when I met this sweet thing", throwing an air kiss to his lover.
I asked him what was I supposed to do without a place to sleep. He said, "You're one of the "Night Trippers" aren't you? Just trip around all night and come back in the morning when we get up."
I left in a huff and went looking for Mac (Dr. John) to complain about accommodations. He wasn't in his room, but there was a naked girl asleep in his bed. I slipped into the sack with her(she never did wake up), and when I awoke she was gone.
We left that afternoon for New York , ending the strangest two days I ever spent in my life.

Birdland-New York

I first went to New York City when I was seventeen years old. I crossed the bridge from New Jersey and went searching for the subway that would take me to Times Square and to the music I loved.
I needed to get directions to the right subway car and the person I approached for help was a Beatnick looking guy with a goatee and sun glasses.
When I asked him how to get to Times Square he replied with a phrase that still gives me goose bumps.
The first words a New Yorker ever spoke to me were, "Man, take the "A" train".

When in New York playing at "The Stork Club", I lived on 51st street between Broadway and 6th ave. This was very close to the club that was a mecca for jazz lovers, "Birdland". I got to see scores of great players, as we went there almost every night after work.
I liked to go outside the club when the band took a break and eavesdrop on the musicians' conversations. I'd get as close as I could without being obvious.
Two events really impressed me.
The first was when the midget who was the M.C. at Birdland tried to get Dizzy Gillespie's band back into the club from their extended break. He walked up to Dizzy and said, "Goddamn it Dizzy, you guys are fifteen minutes late for the next set."
Dizzy countered with, "Aw, shut up you 'lil "half a motherfucker"; we'll come back when were good and ready." Way to go, Diz.

The next one was a conversation I overheard between a bass player, (who shall remain nameless ... he might have been married) and a hooker.
He was leaning against a lamp post having a smoke when he spotted the foxy-looking girl. "Hey baby", he said, "You want to go with me?" "Maybe", she replied, you got a car?"
"Yeah, I got one, but it's painted yellow".
She laughed and said, "Cool, baby". Then she walked over and gave him a hug.
This got my eighteen year old self wondering what difference it could possibly make to a hooker if a john's car was painted yellow.
It all came together when the bass player hailed them a cab and took off into the night! Too hip for words.

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