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: Still another time, I was playing a gig in some remote town in the middle of Nebraska. I was already in trouble when I showed up to the club, since I was nearly an hour late. I had been traveling through white-out conditions in the middle of a Nebraska blizzard, and you couldn't see 15 feet in front of you. When the owners of the band finally got done threatening to dock my pay, we set up to play for the 4 people who also made it through the blizzard. As we were playing I was having recurring nightmares about the white-out, and suddenly realized I wasn't just imagining it. The fog machine, which the sound and lighting crew cleverly placed right behind me (triangular stage) was going nuts! It started releasing all the fog juice at once, and the stage was reduced to zero visibility in no time. Sure, this was more of a hazard for the other band members than me, since I sit, but there was something else about this mystic cloud. Gradually, as the song went on (Oh, yeah, we kept playing. Got to.), my hi-hats wouldn't close. No, that wasn't it. They closed, they just didn't sound closed. The fog juice in the air so lubricated my hi-hats that no amount of weight or pressure could convice them to make a closed hihat sound. So, I played the rest of the night with out a closed high-hat sound. The only blessing was that we were able to tear down after playing the obligitory first set, since no one was showing and the storm was only getting worse

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