• Sprung at the Springs.

    The Bar Pilots promised a ruckus at the Springs Bar last night and we delivered. For a last minute gig we packed in the dancers and rowdies. Just about chipped another tooth when a little junk-in-the trunk careened into my mic stand. Then a tequila-marinated behemoth in huge basketball shorts kept crossing the Les Nessman tape line, marking where the stage starts and the dance floor ends, to bond with our guest drummer, Keith Parkhurst. The third time he got stabbed in the ribs with the neck of the bass player's Fender. Compliance achieved. Some nice ladies brought out "their girls" to have a peak at me and Rob, and us at them. A little Vancouver fox stole my hat while I played and returned it almost too nicely. Apparently, Mark Logan is the guitar whisperer because people get mesmerized by the leads he carves out on his Carvin. One guy stole a fifty dollar bill out of the tip jar, but he ended up liking us so much that he felt bad and gave it back. Redeemed! When you miss the Pilots you miss a lot.


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The Bar Pilots' Blog

From news to views, recaps to nightcaps. An occasional musing at altitude cruising.


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