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So..how did you come up with your user name for jambands??

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I was on Grateful Dead tour, probably 1987 and me and my friend Mike had some engine troubles in Georgia, I think it was just outside Adairsville, but it could have been Holly Springs, honestly I don't remember exactly. Anyway, we tinkered around with it for about two hours watching cars go by us, eventually we gave up and waved down a pickup truck, asked the if guy could give us a ride to the closest gas station, or at least telephone so we could get a tow. The guy nods, says "one up the road", so we hop in and introduce ourselves.

While on the way the driver of the pickup truck (his name was Dan) got to asking about our "crazy accents", so we told him we were from Canada and we were trying to make it to the next Grateful Dead show. He made some funny cracks about Canadian's disappearing in the hills of Georgia and whatnot, we laughed about it for a few minutes and carried on with mostly small talk about the area, what we all did for jobs, that sort of stuff.

We eventually pulled up at this gas station/garage/bar place that was as redneck as it gets, almost TV like redneck. Guys sitting on old crates with straw hats, overalls & plaid shirts, chewing tobacco and talking about the weather, and here's Mike & myself, tied died shirts, sandals, long hair. Needless to say we gotta a lot of stares and quite possibly some non verbal threats (you know, like the 'cut your throat' motion people make), it was really really creepy.

Dan tells us to go on over there and ask the guy in the grease covered cover-alls about getting a tow, so we wander over to this big burly greasy guy and start asking about his rates, and if it would be possible to get it fixed by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. He takes a long drawn out breath and gives us the old "ya'll ain't from around here are ya?" deal, and slowly starts to get up off his seat, spitting some tobacco in process. He rattles off some numbers, to the amusement of his friends sitting there and tells us he'll go pick up the van and bring it back for an inspection then get back to us about how much it'll be to fix and if it'll be possible to do it by the next day. In the meanwhile we should head on into the bar and have some dinner & drinks.

So, we wander into this shack of a bar, pull up a seat at the bar next to Dan and ask him whats good to eat. He spouts off a few dishes and calls the barmaid over for us. We order some beers and say we'll get back to her about the food. So, we gets to drinking and doing some shots, we buy Dan a few for being kind enough to pick us up and gives us a ride. Well, after a couple hours, half dozen or so beers each were having a good time carrying on, the big greasy guy comes in and asks who owns the van. Mike says its his and they wander out to the garage, I assumed to work out what the damage was going be, so Dan & I order some more shots and keep telling each other bad jokes about where we're from. About a half hour later Mike comes in and says the van is fixed, and I owe him $60.

We had some burgers, and some more drinks with Dan, thanked him again and made our way out to the van. I asked one of the guys sitting out there if there was a hotel nearby as we had drank enough not to be driving to far. The guy points down the road and says, "yea, stay on this road for about 15 mins", so we hop in the van and right before we pull out onto the road this old beat up four door Plymouth comes barreling down the road swerving and hits the ditch. This old guy gets out laughing and falls to the ground. The guys from the garage go running over and help him up. He was obviously drunk. We saw they had control of the situation so we pulled out of the parking lot and headed on to the hotel where we had the much needed rest we needed to continue on to the next show. We had a great time with no more engine troubles for the rest of the tour and eventually made our way home.

About 14 years later or so while sitting at my sister's house I decide to finally check out what all the hoopla was about with this thing called the internet. I jumped on her computer (I didn't own one) and had her show me how to make an email address, I made one and decided to do a search for "Fat Cats" and see what turns up - my search led me to a post by Secondtube on this board (when it was baby blue color scheme) and I wanted to reply, but I needed to have a username, so for about an half hour or so, I sat staring at the screen trying to come up with a username, finally I decided on 'Esau13' and joined this board. I went with Esau13 because 13 is my favourite number, Esau from the GD song "My Brother Esau" plus it means hairy in Hebrew I believe (but could be wrong), and I had a lot of hair. Over the years I eventually trimmed it down to just Esau since that's what everyone was calling me anyway.

And there you have it.

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I was on Grateful Dead tour, probably 1987 and me and my friend Mike had some engine troubles in Georgia, I think it was just outside Adairsville, but it could have been Holly Springs, honestly I don't remember exactly. Anyway, we tinkered around with it for about two hours watching cars go by us, eventually we gave up and waved down a pickup truck, asked the if guy could give us a ride to the closest gas station, or at least telephone so we could get a tow. The guy nods, says "one up the road", so we hop in and introduce ourselves.

While on the way the driver of the pickup truck (his name was Dan) got to asking about our "crazy accents", so we told him we were from Canada and we were trying to make it to the next Grateful Dead show. He made some funny cracks about Canadian's disappearing in the hills of Georgia and whatnot, we laughed about it for a few minutes and carried on with mostly small talk about the area, what we all did for jobs, that sort of stuff.

We eventually pulled up at this gas station/garage/bar place that was as redneck as it gets, almost TV like redneck. Guys sitting on old crates with straw hats, overalls & plaid shirts, chewing tobacco and talking about the weather, and here's Mike & myself, tied died shirts, sandals, long hair. Needless to say we gotta a lot of stares and quite possibly some non verbal threats (you know, like the 'cut your throat' motion people make), it was really really creepy.

Dan tells us to go on over there and ask the guy in the grease covered cover-alls about getting a tow, so we wander over to this big burly greasy guy and start asking about his rates, and if it would be possible to get it fixed by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. He takes a long drawn out breath and gives us the old "ya'll ain't from around here are ya?" deal, and slowly starts to get up off his seat, spitting some tobacco in process. He rattles off some numbers, to the amusement of his friends sitting there and tells us he'll go pick up the van and bring it back for an inspection then get back to us about how much it'll be to fix and if it'll be possible to do it by the next day. In the meanwhile we should head on into the bar and have some dinner & drinks.

So, we wander into this shack of a bar, pull up a seat at the bar next to Dan and ask him whats good to eat. He spouts off a few dishes and calls the barmaid over for us. We order some beers and say we'll get back to her about the food. So, we gets to drinking and doing some shots, we buy Dan a few for being kind enough to pick us up and gives us a ride. Well, after a couple hours, half dozen or so beers each were having a good time carrying on, the big greasy guy comes in and asks who owns the van. Mike says its his and they wander out to the garage, I assumed to work out what the damage was going be, so Dan & I order some more shots and keep telling each other bad jokes about where we're from. About a half hour later Mike comes in and says the van is fixed, and I owe him $60.

We had some burgers, and some more drinks with Dan, thanked him again and made our way out to the van. I asked one of the guys sitting out there if there was a hotel nearby as we had drank enough not to be driving to far. The guy points down the road and says, "yea, stay on this road for about 15 mins", so we hop in the van and right before we pull out onto the road this old beat up four door Plymouth comes barreling down the road swerving and hits the ditch. This old guy gets out laughing and falls to the ground. The guys from the garage go running over and help him up. He was obviously drunk. We saw they had

good story. but what the hell does that part have to do with your username?

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cut and paste works well from the old thread so here ya have it...

Well i was originally ForbinHood on this board in the early days... then one fateful weekend trip to see String Cheese Incident at Finger Lakes in NY State PassedOutGuy was born... after the show everyone was partying late, singing and jamming back at the KOA Kampground... trying to keep er together i was passing in and out of consciousness... which brings us to one point where I was completely out and this American kid beside me smacks me on the arm and says " Hey Passed Out Guy what are ya doin?" ... it was on the ride back to Canada with Bouche the next day that I realized my fate...

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I'd say it's cause I wear my heart on my sleeve but I've posted a lot of things that - if they were as such would really be not at all what I'm about.

More like a sometimes tongue-in-cheek joke, sometimes an explanation of my 'posts before he edits' type behaviour, sometimes perfectly appropriate moniker.

Some canned beats are awful.

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Hart is my first name (actually given to me by my parents, not a heady tour name) and I've always enjoyed the way Homer Simpson refers to Lisa's sax-a-mophone. People actually started calling me Hartamophone in university before I took it on as my handle on pretty much every message board I've ever joined.

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My name is from the old school days of the Canadian Phish Traders Network and www.gadiel.com/phish (Thanks AD!, and where have you gone Andy?)

I used Northern Wish to post on gadiel when I was ISO a show. I had found that most people were glad to offer B+Ps until they found out you were in Canada and the whole increased postage/ customs thing threw them off. It was a tip off, that I was ISO and that the package would be travelling north.

Oh and its also one of my favorite songs of all time- Northern Wish- The Rheostatics.

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I am a giant nerd... but I am also mad fly

A couple of years ago I attempted to classify myself on the social food chain... and I classified myself as an Alpha Nerd... as opposed to the Alpha Male...

I thought it was so clever I used it for everything since

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Patchoulia has been my alter-ego for well over a decade. It originated one day when I was hanging out with Eric, from Caution Jam (back in the days when I was more stereohippycal and wore patchouli) and he said, "Julia. Patchouli. Patchoulia!"

I loved it and it stuck and has been my online handle ever since. :)

However, my first persona on this board was Stoned Phillips. I have no idea how I came up with that or why I didn't go with Patchoulia.

Sometimes I do hear Stone Phillips, the venerable, strong-jawed newsman, lulling me to sleep. I think he might be one of my many, competing personalities.

Thank you & good night. I'm Stoned Phillips.

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