Some time ago, maybe 10 years ago, I heard that a movie about Southern Rock/Metal was premiering in Philadelphia, including a live concert with a Southern Rock/Metal band. I think it was Buzzoven? I really can't remember. I'm a huge fan of that genre, so I got in touch with one of my personal training clients, Pat, and he was a big fan too, so he agreed to meet me there. It was in a really sketchy part of Philly, but Philly really wasn't that bad back then, crime-wise. Or maybe I was naive. But I made it to the place, a hipster bar that only served craft beers. I didn't know, so I, of course, asked for a Budweiser and the girl with the bandana tied up in her hair was like, "We don't sell Budweiser." Obvious disdain in her voice. So I asked for something that tasted like Budweiser. It was good. I felt like an outsider in hipster land.
Then Pat came in and we had some beers and then went upstairs to the Theatre/Live music area. So the movie hadn't started yet and the band was out drinking at the bar. Well, I had just read a story in a metal magazine about the drummer being this badass drinker of Jack Daniels like he's always messed up because he's never without his Jack. So I see him sitting at the bar and I go over to him and I order us shots of Jack. I crush it and he does okay but nothing great. I ordered 2 more. I crush it again. He's slowly finishing his. I order 2 more and he says, "Whoa, whoa, I gotta play tonight. Like he holds up his hands saying he is done, and I'm crazy. What a pussy.
So then we watched the movie and it was great and then the band came on. I'm on the front row. During the show, Dixie Dave, the bassist, is motioning to the crowd that he needs a drink really bad. Everybody is ignoring him but me. I know from reading about Dixie Dave that he drinks Jim Beam like a madman. I run to the bar and get him a shot of Beam. He thanked me gratefully in gesture and then after the concert, he came up to me and said to me, "You saved me, brother." I was happy to help. A part of me felt guilty for helping him continue with his obvious alcoholism, but I told myself that it was rock and roll, so screw it.
Then, the funniest thing happened. The lead singer came over to me and sat down at the bar and was like, "Thanks for the support, man." And I bought him a drink and we talked some. He was a little fidgety. Now, at the time, I had to be like 245 pounds, pretty thick. And he looks over at me and in a straight face, asks me if I knew where he could get some cocaine. Me? I look like a cop, first off, and I didn't fit the profile of a typical coke head. I had more of a beer and beef preference and looked it. So I said, "Do I look like I do cocaine, brother?" He was like "Oh, sorry, man." It was no big deal. I was flattered that he thought I could get a hookup- like I was a cool guy who knew people. Maybe he thought I was in like the redneck mafia or something, because I was in camo at the time, of course. I had a grand time. I made it back to the truck without being mugged and headed home.
