Who knew Diet Mountain Dew was so good?

This all happened about two and a half weeks ago. I’d meant to post it then, but my wrists and a couple fingers on my right hand began acting up and I couldn’t type it. They’re feeling a LITTLE better now, so…


I wasn’t sure I wanted to write about this or not. I can’t get over the negative feelings. I can’t just put it out of my mind. Maybe I’ll feel better if I post it.

Part of it is because I know it’s my own fault for providing the opportunity for circumstances to turn out the way they did. I feel as if I deserve what happened.

But by the same token the incident seemed so…I don’t know…blown out of proportion, maybe?

Ah, what the hell. I’ll try to get it out of my system by laying it all out for you.

A friend of mine invited me to come with him to see this music studio that was supposedly the most incredible facility of it’s kind, if not in the whole state, then surely for the immediate area. This friend had hopes of possibly getting his foot in the door as an engineer or sound man in return for free studio time in lieu of cash. He’d met and spoken with the owner, whose name was Lance, once before. It seemed a realistic possibility, so we went there to have a look at the place.

Lance, as I understand it, is not a seasoned engineer. In fact, I gather that he is new to the profession. I don’t know this as a fact though. But on the day we were there he had invited a band to come and play for free so he could iron out some issues he’d had with the mixing board. They were, I think it fair to say, less than stellar. But hey, it doesn’t take talent to bang away at “Can’t You See” for an hour while your “producer” tries to figure out which essential cord is unplugged.

First of all, let me say that the studio is, indeed, awesome. I’ve only been in one studio in my whole life that even came close to this one. Everything you could want or need to settle in and make a record was in this place. No doubt you’d have to shell out some serious money to book time there (note: I later found out that the going rate is fifty bucks an hour, which probably isn’t too bad considering how nice the studio is, but a little pricey for the caliber of bands and musicians the owner is likely to attract).

The entire thing was built and owned by Lance S.. I knew absolutely nothing about the guy other than this: He had to be a rich motherfucker. He seemed a little distant and aloof when I first saw him. But I didn’t give it a second thought because such is the way of many wealthy people. I should have gotten an inkling of the magnitude of his sour nature when I met his eleven year old son. Not a formal introduction, mind you…just my friend and the band waiting outside, hanging out for a little while, and this kid was there playing with (driving?) what looked to be an extremely expensive radio remote controlled car. He was quite good at it. It was fun just to watch it, I can only imagine how cool it must have been to own, at the age of eleven, no less.

He put it away and retrieved a basketball. He began doing tricks with it, and wasn’t half bad, but then he started to get snarky with a couple of the guys in the group. I can’t really describe what was said and/or done…I’m really sorry I’m not able to do that, because you’d know I was justified in taking the point-of-view that..

Even so, I didn’t even consider that the kid was spoiled as rotten as a month old banana. I just thought he had a bad attitude.

I only bring him up because in hindsight it seems that his hateful demeanor set the stage for what I came to learn about his dad.


Okay---by the time we got inside the building I was really thirsty. I mean to say my mouth was dry as a desert and I needed a drink badly. I’d seen literally CASES of beer in one of the rooms so for some reason I thought these wealthy folks were of a hospitable nature. So I didn’t think much of looking in the refrigerator to see if there was anything to drink. Admittedly, in retrospect, it was disrespectful to take a can of soda without asking for it. Still, in my defense, there were several on the shelves and I thought we were guests. I really didn’t give it a second thought figuring, you know, who’s gonna care, right? Who will even notice?

Apparently I was wrong.

My friend and I were sitting in the lounge talking about the possibility of getting some free recording time booked there. Lance walks in and across the room to adjust the video screen behind us…at least I assumed that was the reason he came in. He picked up the soda can and put it back down…I thought he was just moving it, but later I realized that he was checking to see if there was anything in it. He wanted to know if someone had left it there or if I was drinking it.

I hardly noticed until he looked down at me and said, in a petulant, accusatory voice, “That’s MY Mountain Dew.” Just exactly like some kid who doesn’t want to share his toys.

I was apologetic, but the expression on his face never changed. The guy was truly annoyed and offended that I had taken one of his Mountain Dews. He didn’t say another word. My friend tried to lighten the mood by introducing him to me. He did shake my hand, I’ll give him that. I said, “I’m sorry to have offended” but he remained as condescending as I’ve ever seen anyone.

He left and the whole atmosphere shifted. I wanted to express my anger at his obnoxious manner, but I knew that I was at fault. I never should have drank his soda---I had no idea it was even HIS and it should have been completely obvious that I hadn’t taken it for any sinister reason. It wasn’t anything personal, you know? Just a fuckin’ 50 cent can of pop. I hadn’t thought much of it. But I guess you really have to pinch pennies when you’ve shot the moon with such an expensive recording studio.

And so I didn’t feel like I was in a position to be offended by his actions and attitude towards me personally.

But simply the IDEA of someone being so hateful TO GUESTS…this was the first impression he wanted to make with me? Would it have turned out the same had I been someone who could have contributed to the success of his venture? And whose to say I might not have been just that kind of person? But apparently he didn’t care, because the only words I ever heard come out of his mouth were, “That’s MY Mountain Dew.”

How does a person get to the point where a little thing like that is more important than perhaps getting to know someone with whom you share something in common? A potential friend?

He walked in and out of the room a couple of times after that, but said absolutely nothing, almost as if he was still upset that someone copped his last soda pop (which it WASN’T…there were several more in the refrigerator…had that not been the case I would not have taken one).

My friend was a little uneasy about the whole affair. I could tell he was mentally assessing the guy, having come to the same conclusion that I did about him. He later told me that Lance was nothing at all like that when he met him the Saturday before. That was hard to believe. Meaning to say that it was impossible for me to imagine the guy as anything more exalted than an asshole.

My friend relayed a message to Lance, basically asking if we were going to be allowed into the mixing room. We had thought that he’d wanted to give us “the grand tour”, so to speak.

The response? He said (through an intermediary) that we could come in, but admonished us, “Don’t touch anything.”

HUH?????

The level of condescension was raised considerably, I thought. I don’t know if he was being a jerk about the Mountain Dew incident or if he came by it naturally. I kind of got the impression it was the latter. I mean, I am 47 years old and my friend is a few years older than me, so we don't need to have to be informed of something that is basic studio etiquette. Another reason why Lance was so obviously a rookie, to think that two guys who have been in music performance and recording for probably 80 years collectively would need to be lectured about something like that.

Regardless, that was the last straw. Now he’d pissed off my friend, who hadn’t done anything to deserve such out-and-out disrespect. I told him I was sorry that my “transgression” could have been detrimental to his plans for the situation. He told me he didn’t think it was like that at all. I hope not, but the end result was that he got just about as disgusted as I was with this rich-ass bozo (maybe even more so).

We walked out of that place and it couldn’t have been soon enough as far as I was concerned. My buddy was trying to decide “which bridges needed to be burned”…I don’t know what decision he might eventually come to on that front, but I wouldn’t think there would be any reason to keep him from going in either direction, other than the obvious difficulty there would be in working with a guy like Lance. I wouldn’t blame, though, if he went back to negotiate whatever he needs/wants. There’s no question that getting involved on the ground level of a music production company like this one would be a good thing. I’d very happy to see him hook up with something like that no matter what I thought about any of the staff.

As for me? I wouldn’t go back if you paid me…(he said, not being offered any money to go back). I don’t think I could be in the same room with Lance, no matter what happened---even if he were to apologize to me for “having a bad day”, or whatever it was that made him so irritable.

It saddens me to know that there are such people in the world whose circle of compassion is so limited. I don’t get out a lot, and I sure don’t like to meet people. But I was in the mood to be friendly, maybe even to begin forging a relationship. Apparently the feeling was not mutual.

Fuck him, eh?

That felt good.

---