We stayed at the Omni Hotel during our time in Richmond.

It’s a nice hotel, and according to a 5 star review I read
on Tripadvisor, the staff are “warm and welcoming”, and the swimming pool is
“really nice”!

Nice respectable people stay at nice hotels.

People like the woman I shared an elevator with, who told
the bellman that she was a district judge.

That’s a nice respectable occupation, and while she
obviously wasn’t wearing her judge’s robe, she was dressed very professionally.

That’s about the time I glanced over at the mirror in the
elevator and was reminded that I was wearing a black t-shirt adorned with the
name and logo of a band back in Seattle that a couple of my friends are in.

The name of the band? Pukesnake.

The logo on the front of the shirt? A toilet.

I’m a grown man in my 40’s for God’s sake, I should have
phased out of my toilet t-shirt stage a couple of decades ago.

(I continue to think that Pukesnake is a fantastic band name
however)

That elevator ride was a reminder that even in the subtlest
of ways, rock bands and their crews roll into town and sully the atmosphere of
any nice hotel, whether we try to or not.

The band members are (generally) well dressed and (usually) well
behaved, but I would say that if you’re judging on looks alone, our crew runs
the gamut from presentable to parolee.

You also have to bear in mind that a pack mentality is
pervasive on the road, and we tend to move in groups.

Which means it’s not uncommon to see 3 or 5 or 7 of us
rolling through a hotel lobby like a funnel cloud of obscenities and black
clothing.

Also keep in mind that Jerry’s tech wears overalls every
single day, Mike’s tech has dreadlocks down to his knees, and a tour record six
of us currently have shaved heads.

Strictly from an appearance standpoint, this tends to stand
out at your finer hotels.

And that’s before anybody opens their mouths, because there
is absolutely no filter on what comes flying out of crew and band member
pie-holes out here.

Not everyone in the band or on the crew shares my ability to
turn the foul language switch to the off position, which can make for some
uncomfortable eavesdropping for other hotel guests.

Basically what I’m trying to say is that try as we might,
cleaning up a road crew and getting them to behave themselves is like standing
on top of a landfill and spraying air freshener.

So the next time you check into a nice hotel and wonder what
all of those mystery surcharges and taxes are for, it’s a good bet that part of
it goes toward post traumatic stress treatment for guests and employees that get caught in
the squall as Hurricane Alice rolls through the lobby.

Please accept our apologies…