DISCO INFERNO! (My life in music-the Disco years)

No, we did not burn down a room at the Holiday Inn (let’s just say it was a large hotel chain somewhere in S.C.) and it didn’t really burn down, either. It just sort of...melted.

At this point, Rhapsody consisted Of John, Pam, Richard, John V., and myself. John V. was a very young keyboard player from Columbia S.C.. We needed the all important 5th player and while he was indeed very young, he fit the bill well. He was a great player and he helped considerably in filling out our sound. He had a Fender Rhodes, an electric clavinet and a string machine - all of which were required to duplicate the big over-produced sounds of the popular Disco and Top 40 songs of the day.

I have mentioned earlier that Pam had pitch problems, so it was extremely important that all of our instruments be in tune. Poor John V. was constantly spending hours before shows painstakingly tuning his electric piano. That’s not an easy thing to do, but all of the trouble did seem to help Pam with her singing. To this day, I thank John (the band leader) for giving me an ear for pitch, and while I certainly do not profess I have perfect pitch while singing, it’s easy for me to hear tuning problems a mile away!

The band was playing a 2 week engagement at a well known hotel chain in S.C., when the fire took place. This was at the peak of the disco days (at least in the South), and the media had been hyping the rampant drug use that was seemingly such a large part of that culture, especially at N.Y.’s Studio 54. The drug of choice was cocaine, but our drug of choice was pot. Even though John insisted that we performed in a very professional manner, we would all go back to our rooms during the set breaks and bong down. It seemed to help relieve the boredom of playing the same songs over and over again. Shake Your Booty was now challenging and adventurous!

On our last break of the evening, John V. and I walked back to our room to..refresh. We broke out a small pipe, tried to clean all the stems and seeds out of the pot, and took a few hits. Nice! It was the last set of the week (Saturday night), and we were happy to be going home for 2 days before we had to be back at the hotel for one more week of our engagement.

We all went back to the lounge...refreshed... and played the last set. As we left the lounge and were walking in the parking lot back to our rooms, we noticed the unmistakable sounds of emergency sirens. Many sirens. As we neared the other side of the building we noticed that not only were there many sirens, but they were quickly getting closer! Our pace quickened a bit and then we saw smoke. I remember that was when my heart started racing with a pronounced sense of dread. I ran around the corner of the building and I experienced the biggest buzz-kill I have ever felt in my life. Holy crap! My room was on fire!

There were about 5 fire trucks parked in front and several firemen were excitedly knocking on doors to evacuate that part of the building. A fireman with an ax was seconds away from chopping his way into my room! My brain went into hyper-drive at this point and I approached him and told him that I had a key! He frantically asked me if there was anyone in the room, and I told him no. He opened the door and thick black smoke poured out of the room. I saw no flames, but felt the heat. Several firemen went in and my poor pot addled brain was desperately trying to find a way to deal with all of this.

Moments later, a fireman came out of the room with something dangling at the end of a long metal pole. It was the charred skeleton of John V.’s suitcase. All that was left was the frame and handle. The suitcase was ground zero. That was where the fire started. Apparently a burning pot seed popped out of the pipe and landed smack dab in he middle of it. It contained all of John V.’s clothes and burned all the way through. The smouldering fire more or less melted a hole about the same size of the suitcase completely through his bed. The firewall between his headboard and the next room was charred, but fortunately it held. Our TV had melted.

By now, the area was filled with onlookers from the hotel and the lounge. John V. was starting to freak out a bit and I knew I had to come up with something very quickly. Think Gil, think! Suddenly my mind cleared. Something connected. I knew what to say. The manager of the hotel and a fireman approached John V. and myself and asked how we thought the fire had started.

“You know....earlier this afternoon I put a couple of quarters in the bed vibrator and nothing really happened.... except that the bed just sort of made a funny noise”.

They both seemed to buy it! The hotel manager was actually apologetic that he had no more available rooms for John V. and I and that we would have to double up with our bandmates. WTF! Was it really that easy? Was I a criminal genius? Am I going to Hell?

After the firemen left, we were allowed to enter the room and gather any belongings that we cared about. All of my stuff was ok, but it was all very...smoky. John V.s’ clothing of course was no more, but both of us were happy that our alternate band - issued dress shirts (the nice light blue ones with the frilly fronts!) were hanging in the open closet with just a bit of smoke damage. Hopefully, a good dry cleaning or two would remove the smell. It never really did, though....every time I would sweat in it, that smoky smell would reactivate. Maybe it was a message. Maybe my diabolical ease of lying would indeed send me to burn in Hell someday. I hope not. Of course I was very grateful that no one was hurt, and that the fire did not cause anymore damage than it did. Maybe the Disco-Gods were looking after me that night after all!

The following week was mostly uneventful back at the hotel’s lounge. The lounge and the hotel’s staff were a bit buzzed by the events, but there were no repercussions from the fire department or the hotel management. Several years later, I did receive a couple of collection notices in the mail on behalf of the hotel. I did not respond to those, but eventually I got a registered letter from a law firm demanding payment for the damages. I think the bill was for around $5000. Once again, the Disco Gods came down from the heavens to help me out. A relative (lawyer) convinced my mother’s homeowner’s insurance to pay the claim in full. I’m a lucky guy. A very lucky guy.....stupid ol’ Mexican pot.