Another Tale from the Road…

In a band from a long time ago, in a time zone far, far away, our Super-Fan Alicia said it was totally cool to swim in her millionaire step-fathers pool…

…and she said of course we could skinny-dip, and put in a load of laundry.

 

But as it turns out, it was not OK.

We (the touring folk band) had spent the previous night on Alecia’s filthy, flea-ridden rug in an apartment off Sunset after a great show in Los Angeles. She became a fan back east and when she was informed of our west coast tour, she opened her home to us for the night.

When, in the morning, the four of us band members (as well as the 4-year-old and the 6-month-old) were up and ready to leave, we thanked Alicia and told her that we were off to do laundry at a laundromat and get a bite to eat.

Well! She would hear none of that! Her Mom and Step-dad had a great big beautiful house in the Hollywood Hills and she was totally allowed to use it – and the pool – whenever. We were to follow her to the house and put a load of laundry in and go swimming.

Anyone who knew us at the time would have easily predicted our next question, as the grownups were two couples.

“Well, cool! Can we go skinny-dipping in the pool?”

“Yeahhhh!!! Suuuuuure!!!!” said our benefactor. And off we went.

We were to find out that the Mom had married the step-dad, who was a Hollywood/Beverly Hills realtor, then became a realtor herself as well. As a result, they did really well and now had this serious mansion in the hills. It was like a movie set of a mansion.

Off with the clothes, in with the laundry and in the pool we went! Beautiful!

Then the step-dad unexpectedly arrived on the scene. Alicia, alone among us, had kept her clothes on. The step-dad walked into the backyard pool area wearing a white tennis get-up, but with an actual ascot. Not a silver hair out of place. He looked at us in the pool. He looked at his step-daughter.

“Alecia….I am going to f#cking kill you.” With picture-perfect diction and pronounciation. All the “-ing”s fully “-ing”-ed.

It was truly THE most cinematic experience I ever had. I could hardly believe this scene wasn’t written, conceived, staged, directed by film business pros.

It took us naked folks a good 5 seconds before we had to turn around due to the inescapable urge to laugh out loud. When we finally did, we held it in as well as possible and exited the pool to get our clothes.

The conversation between Alicia and her step-dad revealed that absolutely nothing was OK, and hadn’t they already been over this and agreed that she was never to visit the house…and all with perfect diction, every silver hair in its place.

Well, we put our soaking wet half-done laundry back in the plastic garbage bags we brought it in and beat a hasty retreat.

Down the hill to Sunset we go and soon the laundry is done. Driving down Sunset, on our way north for the next show at UC Davis (like twelve hours away?) A car pulls up alongside us on our right.

A lady of at least 70, every silvery platinum blonde hair in place and simply glistening with diamonds rolled down her Mercedes’ window and gave us the clear sign that she wanted to tell us something.

Unbeknownst to us, we had left a large pile of clean beach towels on top of the van when we pulled away from the laundromat.

“Dahlinks, you are looooosink everythink!” she told us in a thick eastern European accent. Sure enough, there was a trail of beach towels going back as far as the eye could see.

I swear to this day, as we all do, that THAT was one of the Gabor sisters.

-Tom

 

P. S.

A lot more truly noteworthy stuff happened on that tour. I’m sure I’ll get around to telling more soon.

For instance, I set out on that tour with exactly 5 cents in my pocket and returned home 3 weeks later with 15 cents!

We were deemed “too naked” by actual card-carrying nudists.

We almost got in fisticuffs due to a double-booking when the other (local) artist tried to bait our band leader with anti-semitism.

And all this while toting around a 4-year-old, a 6-month-old and about 250 pounds of vinyl LPs..