I couldn’t make this stuff up….

Proving once again that fact is stranger than fiction, is a recent audition I was called to in The Colony.
The project sounded like something right up my alley and I was intrigued enough to go out on Halloween night for the audition. Using my GPS, I found the house about 30 minutes early ( I was expecting more traffic than I encountered) so I hung around in the car for a little bit listening to the audition songs and watching the ghosts and goblins trick or treating.
After what I thought was an appropriate time, I walked up to the house and met the keyboard player. We had a brief introduction and he told me I would be loading in the front door and setting up upstairs. Good thing I brought my smaller Yamaha kit. There was a pool table in the middle of the room and they wanted me to set up in a space too small for the kit, so I chose a place in doorway to an adjacent room that gave me a little more space and did the best I could. The only concern from the keyboardist was that I had a rug to set up on. I had some large towels in the car so I laid those out and kept the kit on the towels. No one offered to help, so I unloaded everything myself, hauled it upstairs, set it up in the “too small” space while the others showed up to watch me.
The first warning sign that things were not going to go well was that no one offered to help. The second warning sign that I was at a bad audition was that no one asked me any questions. Not even the friendly, benign questions like, where do you live? Where do you work? Who do you know? Nothing!
We played the 7 or 8 songs they asked me to learn and then played 10 or so other songs that I knew for another hour or so, then the keyboardist announced” that’s it…that’s enough”.
He said they had three other drummers to hear and I would hear back from them. I thought that was good because I don’t make any decisions at auditions and I while the music was pretty good, I just didn’t know about these cats and the logistics of setting up this way for practice once or twice a week.
Then, the ultimate sign that I was at a real bad audition. While breaking down and packing the kit, the band held a lengthy and engaging conversation about their last drummer and what a shame it was that he flaked out on them. They also planned how they might be able to get him to show back up and keep playing. Then the kicker-- they presumed he might have gotten arrested and wondered how much time he’d have to serve and whether they could wait that long for him to get out!
I loaded as fast as I could by myself, made nice with the good byes and got the hell out of there. You just can’t make this up. I’m sure there’s more to come. The audition circuit is wild and strangely peculiar arena.