So it's July 2nd, 1991, the day the sound company crew was to arrive. I was working in Frosty Bar and told them to meet me there when they arrived. About 2:00 in the afternoon, one of the maintenance guys told me there were a few people standing in the bar asking for me.
Now, as I mentioned earlier, I wasn't too excited to be in charge of this fireworks music stuff, and hadn't really thought through the entire process. There were two things that should have struck me as odd about the whole thing: first, the contract specified that the crew would need to arrive two days before the fireworks. Now, when even the largest rock groups tour the country, it isn't unusual for the crew and equipment to arrive in the morning, spend the day setting up and testing, do the concert that night, then tear everything down and leave that same night. The entire process, from arrival to departure, can be as short as twelve hours. All this sound crew needed to do was set up a few stacks of speakers (taken, they were enough speakers to provide sound to a space the size of about three football fields--but it still wasn't that complicated) and all the music was coming off a CD (which I was providing). I never stopped to think why they'd have to be there so far in advance, and I should have. Further, they said that they needed to have a crew of four people. While I thought that was a bit extreme--it was mildly defendable.
Secondly, the contract specified that I'd need to provide them with accommodations and food during their stay. Again, not a huge deal--but I should have thought this through more than I did.
Well, I walk over into the bar--and there was the crew of four--plus all their girlfriends--plus one or two other guys. The head of the crew, Mike (not his real name), came up and introduced himself.
"Sure are glad we are able to help you out with this event," Mike said.
"Good, I'm glad we're able to do this," I replied, lying. "Would you like to go over to the monument grounds to take a look at the site?"
"No, we can go later...we're pretty hungry now. Who do we talk to about some pizza and beer?" he replied.
I should have thought better of this, but it was the beginning of the holiday weekend and I was really busy. I said I'd take care of it, put in an order for a few pizzas, and had the bartender bring over a round of beer. Then, I got back to work.
A few hours later, I noticed that the collected crew and their pose where still sitting at the front table, now covered with empty pizza plates, tomato sauce, plastic forks, and about five dozen beer bottles. As I walked behind the bar, one of them came up and asked for four beers.
"That will be $11.50," I replied. The crew member stared at me and laughed. He picked up the beers and walked back to the table.
"Aren't you taking care of their bill?" one of the bartender's asked.
No, I wasn't. I had promised pizza and a few beers. But that wasn't what they told the bartender. They had told him that I was paying for everything: the pizza, that first round of drinks, and the $165 worth of beer they drank after that. I walked over to discuss the matter with Mike.
"Hey man, you never said we could only have one beer," Mike reasoned. "We had an understanding. If you aren't going to live up to the terms of the contract, we'd better head home right now."
The point was obvious: Mike and his crew--and their crew--were here for two days of fun. If I didn't underwrite that fun, they'd leave and I'd be stuck explaining why the heavily advertised and ballyhooed musical fireworks would be unscored.
"Okay," I offered. "I'll take care of this one. But from here on out, I will pay for your meals only--and no alcohol."
Mike didn't like the terms, but didn't want to press his luck so early and agreed. Then they asked me to show them to their hotel.
"You'll be staying in the employee dorms," I said.
"Dorms? You are kidding," Mike replied.
"No, I'm not. The dorms are brand new--they are fine."
"We were supposed to get hotel rooms, it's in the contract."
"No, the contract says accommodations and the dorm is your accommodation."
"Okay, we'll gather everyone up and head over."
"Wait a minute...everyone?"
"Is there a problem?"
"Yes, there is a problem. You said a crew of four guys--that's two dorm rooms."
"You mean we have to share? We came here expecting to have our own rooms."
"Mike, there are 10 of you."
"Well, we thought our friends could crash in our rooms."
"You have two rooms--the friends aren't part of the deal."
"It's okay, they brought sleeping bags."
"Mike, the dorms are a secure building for employees. I had to pull strings to get you in there--there is no way they'll let five people stay in each room. No deal."
"Then what are our friends supposed to do?"
"That isn't my problem, Mike. Send them home. Get them a camp site...not my problem."
The rest of the crew were pissed off. Some threatened to leave, but Mike was honestly trying to settle them down.
After things were cleared out--the friends went to sit in the park while I took Mike and the crew over to the dorm building. I got them their keys, showed them how to get inside, and headed back to work.
An hour later I got a phone call from the dorm manager.
"I threw out your friends, they'll have to find somewhere else to stay," he said.
It turns out that my "friends" on the sound crew had waited all of ten minutes before trying to sneak all their friends into the dorm. Further, a few of them had been trying (unsuccessfully) to pick up on some of the dorm residents; one guy was walking through the dorm pinching girls' asses. When confronted by the dorm manager, they didn't want to leave, insisting that I had said it was okay to bring in their friends and make themselves at home. I had anticipated them trying to sneak someone in, and had warned the dorm manager not to believe them. When the dorm manager confronted them, one of the crew puked on a chair and another called the dorm manager's wife a "saggy titted, wrinkled bitch".
I went over to the dorm and tried to smooth things out. The dorm wasn't no longer an option--no negotiating would correct that situation. So I made a few phone calls and set up some alternatives.
"Okay, Mike, here's the deal. Friends have to go...all of them, girlfriends included. You and one other guy can sleeping bag it in my living room, the other two are going over to a friend's house for the same. No discussion. Take it or leave it."
"I guess we'll take it," Mike replied, shrugging his shoulders as if to indicate he felt like he was being forced into a bad deal.
All seemed like it was settling down. The friends gathered their things and started discussing the ferry schedule back to the mainland, I showed Mike and another guy where my house was, then went back to work.
The rest of the evening proceeded without incident. At 2:00 am, I headed home, beat tired and smelling like sweat, smoke, and stale beer. I just wanted to go home, take a shower, and get ready for the biggest day of the weekend, the 4th itself.
As I started walking towards my house, I could hear music. Not loud music, but just music playing. I figured that Mike and his crew guy had found the stereo and were just listening to music. A little imposing, but no big deal. As I got closer, I could even tell what it was, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of The Moon.
I came home, opened the door, walked inside, and heard a scream.
It was Mike's girlfriend.
The two of them were butt naked, having sex doggy-style on my couch.
Coming tomorrow: the big day.
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