< previous | next > It's always something. This time it's gunfire. Unbeknown to us, downtown Middleton, Conn., has erupted into some kind of epic gun battle just before we arrive. We're informed after loading our equipment into the Eclectic Society House that classes are canceled and that the campus is on lockdown.

Thankfully, college students aren't ones to let a little mortal danger stand in the way of things like rock bands or, say, beer pong. The show must go on.

While other bands are still arriving, the promoter arrives and provides us with a case of beer and food. Eddie hijacks the kitchen and provides us with a feast while we wait for the show to begin.

The house itself is a giant mansion for the Eclectic Society, a fraternity-in-denial comprised of free-thinking and creative types. The first floor has a large central staircase and two huge rooms which
are used for activities. Since the larger room is under renovation, we're in the smaller room, but there's still plenty of space for kids and equipment.

As soon as the first band cranks up and gets down the cops arrive. I've been playing this house for years -- Eddie and I even played here with Bedford a loooong time ago, and I've never seen cops interrupt a
show here but perhaps they're a bit jumpy what with all the gunplay. The promoter skillfully sweet talks his way out a noise violation and promises to keep the doors tightly shut. The police officer leaves
just as a band called Drunk Driver begins to thrash.

The turnout is excellent, and the kids are into it, and the entire experience makes for a great show save a brief onstage argument sparked by some mangled equipment. Eddie jumps up on a table and gets
the kids nice and riled up for their night of blown eardrums. We end the evening with a cover of Edgar Winter's "Frankentstein" we've worked up.

That's about when we start to realize we're totally screwed for the drive tomorrow. Initially, we were supposed to be in Burlington, VT, tonight, and we're starting to realize just how long that drive to
Quebec City is going to take us -- and since we have a rental and only Eddie and I are on the contract, we are the only people who can drive. We've done long drives (upwards of 30 hours) on no sleep before, but it ain't fun. Doing the math, we realize there's virtually no way of getting a full night's rest AND making the show on time tomorrow, especially considering we don't know how long the border will take. We
finally decide to find spots that are as quiet as possible in the mansion to bed down. We'll shave a little off our rest and face the fact that we're going to be a little late for load-in.

Eddie puts down his bedroll in a quiet room filled with broken arcade games. That's kind of spooky, but my room is even creepier -- like the kind of place you'd expect to shoot a zombie in "Resident Evil." A very old photograph of a very young unhappy boy is hanging on the wall, and just outside is the grand meeting hall of the mansion, complete with a giant central fireplace. I go to sleep repeating to myself that the house is filled with all kinds of very nice people, most of whom are quite alive.

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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