This is just hillarious. I feel for you... but its still just too funny.So my mom and stepdad had gone on about my drum playing down in Florida where they've retired to, and the band at their local lounge-watering-hole invited me to sit in for a couple of songs if I ever came down to visit. I'm like, sure.
Then I walk in and see this thing.
Aside from the glaring obvious things wrong with this refugee from the Tom Angles thread, there's no floor tom, the cymbals are jacked up to uncomfortable heights, and (I don't know if you can tell from the picture) the snare drum is up beside the kick. Like, underneath the left rack tom. It's canted at about 45 degrees towards me, it has a slackly tuned Pinstripe batter (not coated) with a washcloth duct-taped to it.
And the throne is broken.
As the band's drummer gets up to make a beeline to the bar, he snarls, "Don't touch anything!"
I limp through a song, I move to get up, the keyboard player looks at me and goes, "No, no, stay right there," and we go through two or three more songs. I guess they were happy to have someone sober playing the drums for a change. At one point the keyboard player points back at me and yells, "DRUM SOLO!" I swear, it's like a bad dream induced by eating bad Thai food or something.
The set ends and I slide out from behind this torture machine. The regular drummer comes up to me with a bottle of bubbly and says I did a <bleeping> awesome <bleeping> job, man (in front of my wife and mom). So we open it, have a drink or two, chilling. The band starts to reconvene on the stage... except for the drummer. He's passed out in a booth,
Guess who got to finish the set? (At least I moved the snare while he was passed out...)