Carlos Santana - 6/30/10

With what has become an annual end-of-year tradition, I just sent a yearly text to my old friend B-Dog about the time we got to go backstage at a Santana concert.  Here is what I wrote this year:  “Another great year buddy.  Lots of good times, but still nothing will ever compare to the 2010 backstage party at Santana!  You know what they say…if you can remember a backstage Santana party then you weren’t there!”

 

Allow me to elaborate.  It was the night of June 30^th, 2010 when Carlos Santana was playing the opening night of his 2010 tour at the Xcel Center in St. Paul, MN.  Over the years I have seen Santana many times in various venues ranging from as small as the Warfield Theatre in San Francisco to as large as the outdoor Marcus Amphitheater in Milwaukee, but I have never been to a show of his that was that sparsely attended.  The Xcel Center is not as big as the Marcus Amphitheater, but at 18,000 seat capacity it is still pretty large and there was not even close to half that many people at the show.  I was not planning to go that night because tickets were expensive and I had seen him enough times, but about a month earlier they were running a one-day special selling lower-level tickets for $8!  Plus Steve Winwood was opening and I could not pass on that deal so I made a few phone calls to see who was all up for going, bought myself a ticket and made plans to go with B-Dog.

 

Our original seats were in the back corner of the lower level, but for the Steve Winwood opening set there were tons of empty seats so we moved over to the middle of the arena closer to the stage.  Steve put on a great show and I got to hear some of my favorites from his expansive musical history, including ‘Can’t Find My Way Home’ and ‘Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys’ before he closed with ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy’ and ‘Gimme Some Lovin’.  We had stopped our seat upgrading there thinking the seats would fill up for Santana.  But no there were still an unbelievable number of empty seats so for the Santana set we just waltzed right up to the section next to the stage, down to about the 10^th row and we had almost the entire row to ourselves for the rest of the night…it was awesome.

 

My friends Mitch Manson, Thor Ekblom, Ernie Haskell, Karl Rimer and Jenni Benton were all there, but I went with B-Dog and hung out with him for the night.  Mitch and Thor came together and they were a couple rows in front of us, but Thor was super drunk so Mitch came up to our seats a few times to get away from the mighty Thor.  It was a great show though and Carlos was on fire right from the opening song ‘(Da Le) Yaleo’ till he closed with the Chambers Brothers ‘Love, Peace and Happiness’ into ‘Freedom’.  I kind of felt the same way I do whenever I see one of the great icons of rock and roll…I had the feeling that I was seeing history and I had a few goose-bump moments.  That sense of nostalgia was especially strong when the backdrop screen would show images of a young Carlos Santana 40 years earlier in concert.  The current Carlos was onstage playing along with that 22 year old Carlos at Woodstock.  It was a fun show and to top it off B-Dog scored a pair of backstage passes during the show from two hot chicks he knew.  B-Dog is a downtown Minneapolis bartender and is well connected so I was not surprised, but I was ecstatic that I was going to get to party backstage with Carlos-freaking-Santana!  F*ck yeah!

 

I spent the remainder of the concert trying to think of what I would say to Carlos.  I figured I would play it cool, ask him about the upcoming album he had coming out, and I would name drop my friend Brandon Byers who knows Santana because he used to run his merchandise.  So after the show we waited down by the side of the stage for awhile...probably 15 of us with our passes.  Finally most of the arena had cleared out and the big-shot band-manager approached our group and gave us a speech about what to expect.  In addition to self-importance the guy was also obsessed with safety and he kept stressing for us to watch out for roadies loading out heavy equipment and to stick close to him and we would be okay.  Ok dude. 

So when he was finally done with his big speech he led us through a Spinal Tap-like maze of corridors and elevators and passageways until we eventually made it to a small conference room with a few empty tables and chairs.  The guy ushered us in, pointed to a huge floor-to-ceiling refrigerator with big glass doors and said:  "Come on in, relax, have a few drinks (points to the fridge), and the band will be here in a bit."  I greedily look over to the fridge ready to pounce on a nice cold beer, but all that was in there were 3 diet Cokes and a diet Pepsi.  What?  Is this a joke?  I had been to a few backstages in my life and this was nothing like I was used to.  No food, no real beverages, no nothing.  Ah well, at least we would get to meet Santana and his band.

 

We all stood there for about a half hour...staring at each other, making small talk, expectantly looking at the door whenever we heard a noise.  But nothing happened.  A couple of people came and went but no Santana or any band members.  It was starting to get embarrassing.  I told B-Dog we should just get the hell out of there, that I have to work in the morning.  But B-Dog stalled, and then decided to spark up a bowl...the whole place reeked like weed now.  People were leaving, including the two hot chicks who had slipped away unnoticed.  Finally one of the singers walked in.  We said hi and I talked World Cup soccer with him for a minute...bummer about Mexico's loss to Argentina, etc.  I offered him a toke from B-Dog’s pipe but he declined.  Then another singer walked in.  We said hi.  We offered him a toke.  No thanks.  Then some other dude came in who must have been with the band but I didn't recognize him.  He remarked that the sound onstage had sucked that night, further depressing us.

 

Then they quickly left and that was it.  B-Dog still didn't want to leave.  Dude, seriously.  We have been had…duped…made fools of.  Carlos Santana is never ever going to come into this room.  The two chicks that gave us our passes had long since left and were probably hanging out with Santana in the real backstage while we stand around like a couple of chumps in this horrible place.  Let’s just go before the manager guy comes back and throws us out.  I finally convinced him to leave, so then we went back to the bar down the street where we had met before the show.  We hooked up there with another friend who had gotten bored waiting for us and left the arena.  B-Dog ordered us all drinks and I eventually made it home around 1am not looking forward to the 5am wake-up for work.  It was still a great night though…we had perfect seats a few feet from the stage for $8 to see a couple of pioneers of 60’s rock and roll.  But:  worst...backstage...ever.

Parking Ramp Blues

It was the winter of 1985/86.  I was in my very first car, a 1972 Dodge Charger that I had bought the previous summer.  I kept it parked in a student ramp a couple blocks away from the Pioneer Hall dorm that I lived in at the University of Minnesota campus in Minneapolis.  I could not afford the monthly parking fee, so I forged a parking pass out of some sturdy orange construction paper and carefully applied it to the inside of my back left window like all the other cars in the lot.  One cold snowy night me, my roommate Mark Smith and my friend Chris Galanos were going to a party so we walked over to the ramp to get in my car and head out.

I was parked on the very top level and we all piled in.  I started the car and backed out to begin the long winding journey down to street level.  Just as I finished backing up and put it in to ‘drive’, I looked up and saw in my rear-view mirror a cop pulling up behind me.  Cops make me nervous on general principle, but I didn’t think they were there to bust me for the fake parking pass so I just proceeded on.  As we were slowly winding our way down the seemingly never-ending levels of ramps with the cop right on my ass, I happened to notice a speed-limit sign in there that said ‘5 MPH’.  Really?  Isn’t that about the speed of a fast walk?  I joked to Mark and Chris how wouldn’t it be funny if I got a ticket for speeding in a parking ramp?  We laughed, and after awhile we finally made it down to street level.

I put on my left turn signal, started the turn onto Washington Avenue and the instant my car hit the street the cop hits the lights/siren.  What?!  What did I do??  Were they going to get me for the fake pass?  Why wouldn’t they have done that in the ramp?  If not that, were they going to see that it was fake when they approached my car with the flashlight?  I nervously pulled over to the right and awaited my fate.

An angry female cop cautiously approached my car, flashlight in left hand, right hand resting on her gun.  I could tell she was angry because she had this miserable look on her face like she would like nothing better in the world than for me to make a sudden move so she could shoot me.  She got to my rolled down window, shined the light in my eyes, Mark’s eyes, Chris’s eyes, back to my eyes, and then started yelling.  “Do you know how fast you were going?!”  What?  Seriously??  I started laughing because she couldn’t possibly be serious.  That really pissed her off though.  She repeated her question with a pained grimace on her face like she hated me.  I couldn’t figure out why she was so mad at me.  “No.” I said.  “I do not know how fast I was going.  Do you?  Do you have me on radar or something?”

“No!” she said. “But I know it was faster than 5 mph!”  Despite my better judgment I started laughing again and told her that this is ridiculous.  I told her I knew that she was behind me and I was purposely going slow for that reason.  She stared at me, burning holes into my skull with her eyes, and then told me she was going to have me arrested and take me downtown if I gave her any more excuses.  “Do you want that?!” she yelled.  I shook my head in amazement, silently gave her my license and she stalked back to her car in a huff.  After awhile she came back and handed me a $100 speeding ticket.  My jaw dropped and I looked at it in disbelief.  Then for good measure, after the shock of that ticket had set in she triumphantly handed me another $19 ticket for ‘Obstructed View’.  I had a medical IV hanging from my review mirror.  My mom is a nurse and she had an extra IV bag attached to some tubing and I thought it looked cool so I took it and hung it from my mirror.  The bag was low though, not obstructing anything so the only thing that was remotely ‘obstructing’ was the thin little plastic tube.  $119 this bitch was running me up for.  I could not believe it.  She pulled away and the three of us just stared at each other.  Did that really happen?

I decided I was NOT going to pay for those tickets without a fight, so following the instructions on the back of the ticket I called up the Hennepin County Government Center and made a court date.  I was not looking forward to seeing this chick in person again, but I wanted her to have to prove I was speeding.  If anything the judge would get a good laugh out of it and at least lower my fine.  So about a month later I went down to the courthouse for my court date.  I got in line to check in and when I finally got up to the teller she took down my information, frowned, told me to hang on a minute, and then came back about 5 minutes later with a cop.  They informed me that they have a warrant out for my arrest because I had missed my court date and they were going to arrest me.  What?!  I whipped out my pink slip of paper they had mailed me with my court date on it and checked the date to make sure.  I was here on the right date and time.  What are they talking about??  She took the paper and they stared at it for a minute and then the cop walked away.  They had made a mistake and entered the date wrong in the computer.  So she made me a new court date, gave me a new pink slip of paper, and I went home.

About a month later I went down to the courthouse for my new court date.  I got in line to check in and when I finally got up to the teller she took down my information, frowned, told me to hang on a minute, and then came back about 5 minutes later with a cop.  They informed me that they have a warrant out for my arrest because I had missed my court date and they were going to arrest me.  What?  Again?!  I whipped out my pink slip of paper with my court date on it and checked the date to make sure.  I was here on the right date and time.  How could this be happening again??  She took the paper and they stared at it for a minute and then the cop walked away.  They had entered the date wrong in the computer again.  So she made me a new court date, gave me a new pink slip of paper, and I went home.

So about a month later I went back to the courthouse, scared now that I was going to be arrested for god knows what.  I got in line, and lo and behold there was not a warrant out for my arrest this time.  She told me the court room number and I went down the hall to my room and sat down with the 50 or so other people in there.  I did not see the lady cop.  I was told she would have to be there.  Would she come later?  I waited for them to call my name.  And I waited.  And I waited.  I was there for 3 or 4 hours and finally there was just me and one other person left.  The judge called the other person’s name.  Seriously?  I was going to be the last one?  After the judge finished up with that person he got up and started to walk out of the courtroom.  “Wait!” I shouted. “What about me??”  I ran up to him and handed him my pink slip of paper.  He looked at it for a second and then informed me that I was in the wrong courtroom.  “You are in room# 312.  You need to be down the hall in room# 317.”

Oh no!  Shit!  I might actually miss my court date for real this time!  I thanked him, grabbed the piece of paper and ran out of the room and down the hall as fast as I could.  I ran through the new courtroom door, looked around, and it was almost empty.  The judge in this room was just getting up to walk out so I ran up to him, explained that I had been in the wrong room, apologized, and asked if he could do my case now.  He sensed my desperation, looked at his watch and nodded for me to go ahead.  It was just me and him and he seemed like a nice guy so I told him the whole story…everything from the cop busting me for speeding in a parking ramp, the IV bag, the warrants for my arrest…right up to being in the wrong courtroom.  I was encouraged by the fact that he had an amused smile on his face the whole time I was talking.  When I finished my story he took the original ticket from me, told me that it was better to be late than never (noting that at least I had showed up whereas the cop had not)…so I won.  Yes!  All’s well that ends well.  The whole ordeal was a monstrous pain in the ass, but at least I didn’t have to pay the $119 and I got the last laugh.