Thunder Bay. Sounds scary, doesn't it? It might actually be, but again we didn't get to see much of it. If the place wasn't called Thunder Bay, I wouldn't have guessed it was anywhere near a bay. The gig was at Lakehead University (again, that name gives away the town's proximity to a lake or a bay or some sort of body of water), and that's pretty much all we saw. With no hotel to stay in that night, and no showers back stage, Joe wrangled us some showers elsewhere at the uni.
"But are they going to be communal showers?"
"Yeah, you're right. Maybe."
"I'm not up for that."
"What, you've never played sports before?"
"No. Not really."
Jazz doesn't really count as a sport, and if it did, it doesn't involve everyone having showers in one room after the gig. Sure, I did PE at high school, but there were no showers involved. Eurgh. No wonder the Lynx Africa hung so thickly in the air in the change rooms.
But it had been a while since my last shower, so I figured it was worth at least walking to see what the shower situation was.
I walked past the Hangar (which wasn't a hangar), to the Field Rooms. Or Field House. Field something, anyway. It was a term that Joe used so casually that I didn't want to admit I had no idea what he was talking about. Part of his instructions had been, "Just go in and say you're with the band, and they'll sort you out."
Readers, this is where I tell you that the phrase "I'm with the band" only works in some situations. Getting in the front door of gigs without showing any identification? Yes. Getting free or cheap drinks or food at the venue before the gig? Yes. Strolling up to the Field Something for a free shower? Absolutely not.
"Hi. I'm in the band that's playing tonight."
"Oh."
"…and they said we could come over here to use the showers."
His eyebrows looked genuinely surprised.
"Oh, really?"
He seemed to think that was the end of the conversation, and went back to what he was doing on the computer. I continued to stand there.
"Sorry, what are you needing, now?"
"The showers. Where are they?"
"Oh!"
He said it in a way that led me to think he'd totally forgotten our previous exchange.
"Down the stairs, to the right."
"And do you have any towels?"
"It's $1 to hire one. Just put it with the others on the way out."
I walked over to the door, glad that I was finally on the way to the shower.
I walked down. I walked in. Lockers. Lockers. Toilets. A huge tiled room lined with showerheads. Damn.
It's not that I have a huge problem with communal showers. It just seems like a bad idea when you're not really supposed to be there. Shower conversation is almost as unlikely to spring up as urinal conversation, but you can imagine it would get awkward.
"Hey, so how about them Lakeheads?"
"Wh?"
"What's your major?"
"Wrh?"
"See you at the kegger."
"Wii?"
So I washed my face at the basin with $1.00 worth of hot water to justify using the towel, and walked back to the venue just in time for Jon and Roy to start.
Next: Toronto.