Post #124587 by ikitnrev on Tue, Nov 9, 2004 6:01 PM

Back in 1977, I was working in a cemetary over the summer. My boss learned that I played the drums, and was familiar with polka music, so she asked me if I would be willing to drum for her son (who was about 45 years old) who played the concertina.

We practiced once - he was a very mediocre player, and quite a jerk. He announced that he had arranged for us two to play the following Sunday afternoon at an isolated bar outside some small town about 30 miles away. So we go there -- and he insists that I wear one of those red vest things that polka band members always wear.

There were about 6 customers in the bar. We played, they kept on talking - it was all very boring. At one point one of the customers walked over to one side of the bar, plugged the jukebox in, and made his selections. We waited for the song or two to finish, and then started playing some more ... and then the customer put more money in the jukebox. I vaguely remember playing polka music while the jukebox was was playing. I didn't care, as long as I got paid.

Fortunately, the sealed drums contained very fresh pig's blood, so the virgin sacrifice portion of our act still turned out very well.

Vern

[ Edited by: ikitnrev on 2004-11-09 18:02 ]