Potentially fatal situations are always hirarious if no-one is seriously hurt. Right?
We just did 7 straight shows in a row. Our driver is a crotchety get at the best of times but my boss has just banned smoking on the bus, so this fucker is driving extra fast to make up for the time lost while he takes smoke-breaks or the dog stops to do his curly business. It's like trying to sleep in a rock-tumbler.
The hall in Munster was too small for our production so we were late getting out and the next show was a 6pm start so we had to get up extra early.
So i only skulled one beer instead of the usual 2 beers/2 toasties and went to bed, relishing my five hours of sleep. I passed out pretty much straight away but I was awoken by screaming.
When you're tired as hell on a pitch-black tourbus, on the top bunk, the fight-or-flight theory doesn't really come into play.
My immediate though was 'shit! gypsies!' but I was too tired to peep out of my curtains so I just turned up my i-pod and waited for the yelling to stop. If it was pre-ordained that I die at the hands of some Romanian skull-fucker who sold his sister to a Japanese businessman, then so be it.
Obviously though, I'm still here. Turns out one of the bunk-beds had inexplicably collapsed onto our security guy in the bunk below. Of the 8 passengers on the bus, 3 slept through it, including the girl in the offending bed. If it had been the other way around, and the guard had been above the wardrobe girl, this would be less a blog, more an epitaph.
Instead it's a barely amusing anecdote which stands out as memorable solely because the rest of the work is SO DULL.
We just did 7 straight shows in a row. Our driver is a crotchety get at the best of times but my boss has just banned smoking on the bus, so this fucker is driving extra fast to make up for the time lost while he takes smoke-breaks or the dog stops to do his curly business. It's like trying to sleep in a rock-tumbler.
The hall in Munster was too small for our production so we were late getting out and the next show was a 6pm start so we had to get up extra early.
So i only skulled one beer instead of the usual 2 beers/2 toasties and went to bed, relishing my five hours of sleep. I passed out pretty much straight away but I was awoken by screaming.
When you're tired as hell on a pitch-black tourbus, on the top bunk, the fight-or-flight theory doesn't really come into play.
My immediate though was 'shit! gypsies!' but I was too tired to peep out of my curtains so I just turned up my i-pod and waited for the yelling to stop. If it was pre-ordained that I die at the hands of some Romanian skull-fucker who sold his sister to a Japanese businessman, then so be it.
Obviously though, I'm still here. Turns out one of the bunk-beds had inexplicably collapsed onto our security guy in the bunk below. Of the 8 passengers on the bus, 3 slept through it, including the girl in the offending bed. If it had been the other way around, and the guard had been above the wardrobe girl, this would be less a blog, more an epitaph.
Instead it's a barely amusing anecdote which stands out as memorable solely because the rest of the work is SO DULL.
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