Jul
07
2005

112075872963617304

My Crackhead Tour Story (AKA SoCal SoapOpera) with real crackheads! (TOTALY LJ)

So, after 3/5 weeks of being gay drunks galavanting across the country with absolutely no bad things happening, we play 2 houseshows in one day in so-cal. End up in Long Beach @ 3am, tired, not wanting to drive anymore, we get a hotel.

It’s super sketch area of LB, so as usual 2 dudes sleep in the van. Rest of us suckers in the hotel.

Owner of the van Johny is sleeping on front bench in van is awaken by some old dude going:

“FUCKER, YOU ALRIGHT?!?!?! YOU OK!?”

“yeah, wtf?”

(The side door is wide open.)

“YOUR GODDAMN DOOR IS OPEN, THIS IS THE DANGERZONE MOTHERFUCKER, YOU GET KILLED OUT HERE, CLOSE YOUR GODDAMN DOOR AND LOCK IT!”

“ok ok”

“DANGERZONE! FUCKERS GET KEEEELED OUT HERE FOR THAT SHIT!”
*slams door of van closed*

Freaked out, he looks for his cell for the time, and notices that it, and the charger plugged into the lighter are gone. All other doors are locked and closed.

Doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Greg, his brother sleeps through everything in the loft of the van.

Next morning, we take note that 2 cell phones and my digital camera are gone. The only fuckin night on tour I leave that shit in the van and not in my bag. Fuck. Over 1/2 tour pix gone.

The crackhead apparently knew how to slip under the side window, crack it open and unlock the one side door. Then he had to have crawled over the sleeping dude to get all that shit at some weird precarious angle. Crazy. We suck it up like good white boys in the LB and appreciate the fact that noone got shot or stabbed. We head home to gay pansy ass mountain town where we all pretty much leave the doors open all the time.

So, Johny gets a replacement cell phone the next day. Then the calls start. Weird messages, hangups, Direct Connects from other crackheads (who knew crackheads even had phones with DC?!?!?!) The next day he answers a call from a socal area code.

He answers.

It’s some lady looking for the dude that gave her the number. He explains that we’re from az and we got robbed and it’s a stolen phone #. Also, we don’t care about the phones, as one was insured, and that we just want our “tour memories” back.

She goes “THAT MOTHERFUCKER, HE TOLD ME HE WAS STRAIGHT!”

Apparently, he’s trying to win an ex back or something… she’s gonna put the pinch on his ass cause he’s back to stealing and drug shit.

Hilarity ensues… she gives us his name, address, etc.

Police report filed, and she’s trying to get the camera back, which was probably already pawned.

Anyone in socal want to put together a death squad and fuck this guy up some? Har.

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