It was a sweltering July night back in 2003, and I found myself at the legendary Fiddle And Steel Guitar Bar Nashville, a true haven for musicians in the heart of Music City. It was there, amidst the twang of steel guitars and the lively Nashville atmosphere, that my friend Dave McAfee, a long-time member of Toby Keith’s crew, mentioned an opening on Toby’s tour. He suggested I might be a good fit for a guitar tech position.
“I know you came to Nashville to play,” Dave said, “but this tour experience could be invaluable.” Having spent a year in Nashville, building a local gigging scene, I was definitely looking for that next big break. The idea of a major tour, and a steady paycheck, was appealing. “Experience on a big tour and real income would be amazing, but I’ve never worked as a tech,” I admitted. Dave reassured me, “Don’t sweat it. It’s mostly about restringing, tuning guitars, and backline care. They’ll teach you everything.” Excited, I replied, “Okay, I’m in! When do we hit the road?”
The following day, a quick phone call with Toby’s tour manager, Sean Sargent, sealed the deal. Based on my eagerness, Dave’s recommendation, and a promise to work hard, I was hired. Suddenly, I was about to become a “road dog,” completely unprepared for the whirlwind that awaited.
Up until that point, my touring experience was limited to weekend trips with Vern Gosdin and BB Watson – small-scale operations within a 500-mile radius of Nashville, involving a single bus for around ten people and gear stowed underneath. The Toby Keith tour, however, was a different beast altogether. Dubbed “Shock’n Y’all,” it was a massive production with over 50 band and crew members, six buses, and six semi-trucks hauling full production.
My first taste of this mega-tour was intense. The schedule was a whirlwind: Cheyenne, Wyoming on Saturday, July 19th; Harrington, Delaware on Monday, July 21st; and then back to Nashville before heading to Toronto, Ontario. In the touring world, this kind of routing is known as “deadheading,” or in country music circles, a “dartboard tour” – seemingly random and illogical city pairings that felt like throwing darts at a map.
Here’s a glimpse into my first five weeks on the road:
07/19/03 Cheyenne, WY Frontier Days
07/21/03 Harrington, DE Delaware State Fair
07/23/03 Paso Robles, CA California Mid-State Fair (fly date)
07/25/03 Toronto, ON To Be Announced
07/26/03 Ottawa, ON Corel Centre
08/01/03 Maryland Heights, MO UMB Bank Pavilion
08/02/03 Tinley Park, IL Tweeter Center
08/03/03 Bonner Springs, KS Verizon Wireless Amphitheater
08/07/03 Pelham, AL Oak Mountain Amph.
08/08/03 Charlotte, NC Verizon Wireless Amp. Charlotte
08/09/03 Raleigh, NC Alltel Pavilion @ Walnut Creek
08/14/03 Corpus Christi, TX Concrete Street Amphitheatre
08/16/03 Selma, TX Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre
08/19/03 Meadville, PA Crawford County Fair
08/22/03 Albuquerque, NM Journal Pavilion
08/23/03 Phoenix, AZ Cricket Pavilion
08/24/03 Los Angeles, CA Staples Center
08/28/03 San Diego, CA Coors Ampitheatre
08/29/03 Las Vegas, NV MGM Grand
08/30/03 Mountain View, CA Shoreline Amphitheatre
08/31/03 Kelseyville, CA Konocti Harbor Resort & Spa
The reality of constant travel and life on the road with my new “family” quickly sunk in. Knowing my Nashville gigs would be on hold, I bought a “zoom” guitar multi-effects unit for bus practice with headphones. Laptop, video camera, cell phone headset – I was geared up and ready to “embrace the road,” or so I thought.
With good intentions but utterly naive, I kissed my wife, Kelly, goodbye and headed to the bus at 7:00 AM on a Friday. Still new to Nashville, I got lost en route and had to call Kelly in a panic for MapQuest directions. She steered me right, and I arrived at a Kroger parking lot in Hermitage around 7:30 AM. Several buses were parked together. Knowing only Dave, I introduced myself to the first person I saw, asking for the “audio crew bus.” “You’re on my bus,” he replied, pointing to a blue bus. “You must be Eric? I’m Marty. Bottom front passenger bunk is open, or you can take a ‘junk bunk’ upstairs.” “Junk bunks?” I asked, my inexperience showing again. “Empty bunks for luggage,” he clarified.
Nashville to Cheyenne, Wyoming is a 1200-mile, roughly 22-hour bus ride. Wyoming to Delaware added another 1800 miles, nearly 40 hours. While I loaded luggage, laptop, food box, guitar, and practice gear, the crew stocked up at Kroger. Then, unknowingly committing my first bus faux pas, I used the bus bathroom for more than just a quick pee. My previous short bus trips with BB and Vern hadn’t required bathroom use beyond that, and no one had warned me about the “no poop” rule, common on tours to minimize water and septic maintenance and prevent unpleasant odors.
Minutes after we departed for Cheyenne, “Pork Chop,” one of the audio guys, used the bathroom and exclaimed, “Did someone just take a dump in there?” My stomach dropped, but I feigned ignorance, staring straight ahead, channeling Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” when Flick’s tongue stuck to the flagpole. Wanting to make a good first impression, admitting such cluelessness seemed disastrous. Though, I’m pretty sure they suspected me anyway.
Most buses have a small lounge table with bench seats, comfortably seating two. Later, wanting to practice guitar, I brought my gear to the lounge. I spread out gadgets, music books, and guitar equipment, taking over the small space. For an hour, I practiced with headphones, oblivious to the glares from the veteran crew members.
Later, I moved to the co-pilot seat, leaving my gear scattered on the lounge table, unaware that seating and table space are prime bus real estate. Returning later, I found the table cleared, my stuff gone. Someone had moved it to my bunk. “I wasn’t done practicing,” I stated to a lounge full of annoyed faces. “Yeah, you are. You left your stuff for an hour,” someone retorted. “Oh, I didn’t know you couldn’t leave stuff in the lounge,” I apologized, feeling like a complete dork. “Oops. Sorry, guys.”
Not the ideal tour introduction. First impressions are lasting, they say. In time, I’d learn bus living, space sharing, and the communal nature of tour life. But at that moment, just hours into a 4000-mile, five-day journey, my new comrades weren’t exactly warming up to me. And the bus was starting to smell… noticeable.
It was going to be a very long ride.
