I ought to have written this right after we wrapped San Francisco. As it stands, I’m only now jotting this down after having finished the epic Sacramento leg of the tour, hoping that the preceding week isn’t too much of a blur for me. I will make an effort to put these out more quickly for the rest of the tour, for all the none of you who are reading.
Production in San Francisco got a late start, as the trucks with all our props and set pieces were delayed by about a day. Apparently, the rented trucks were less than stellar. One -- I kid you not -- crashed on the freeway when the drivers discovered the breaks didn’t work and had to jump out.
Not actual photo.
That notwithstanding, from my end, the week was pretty relaxed. There was much playing of card games in the hotel lobby/breakfast room and general merriment when not on the site setting up tents and otherwise preparing for the weekend to come. One silly moment that will remain with me was when we were out shopping one night and Taylor, our costume designer, leapt screaming from the idling van at the sight of a winged insect that had flown in the open door. Once outside and a safe distance from the vehicle, she yelled back to us, “Kill it with fiiire!!” I rolled down my window and let it flutter off. I was her hero.
"Kill it with fire!"
The weekend itself was crazy fun. Regarding the local performers, 99% of the San Francisco folk were as nice, as professional, and as enthusiastic as anyone could ask for. Their dedication and sense of fun was infectious, and many of them were eager to sign on to later cities on the tour (meaning they’ve elected to arrange their own accommodations, get in their own cars, and follow us).
But as the light gets brighter, the darkness gets darker. That remaining 1% sucked like a black hole in space. I’m only talking about four or five people out of 80 or so, but man, did they make a bad impression. The grand prize goes to the two assholes who decided to quit in the middle of the first night and just up and take off, leaving their very expensive costumes (including body suits and full head masks) in the parking lot.
Fuck this, bro. I'm going home to play Call of Duty.
But they were only a blip on the radar. Most of the people rocked, and our two event nights were as awesome as they were tiring.
Our crowds were equally enthusiastic. They absolutely loved us. Yeah, there were a few weirdoes and dumbasses -- that’s to be expected (one belligerent guy who kept trying to steal shit ended up on the ground crying when he made the mistake of getting in a security guard’s face). But for the most part, they had an absolute blast.
One thing I noticed about the SF crowd: you know those fun loving, sexually overcharged side characters in all the 80s slasher flicks who are always the first and most horrifically to be murdered? That was our audience. Horny, randy, hot and bothered. Jason Voorhees wouldn't have known where to start.
Please don't kill us.
We camp counselors were getting regular solicitations for late night tent visits, and the campers were very forthcoming (with no provocation whatsoever) about their most intimate peccadilloes. Honestly, I think I’m going to start wearing my prosthetic face everywhere I go.
Most of the highlights from the weekend that I can now recall revolve around abducting campers and locking them in uncomfortable places. One young lady couldn’t help but comment when I stumbled over a bump in the terrain. “I saw that!” she taunted from a short distance away. A brief pursuit later, she was being stuffed with a bag over her head into the back of our kidnapper van, to be driven off to who knows where.
Another young lady thought she’d be a smartass and try to scare one of our werewolves as he was talking to me. He merely turned and stared at her for a moment, then grabbed her and threw her into a nearby cage, which I promptly slammed and locked.
I’d also chase people down for trying to avoid me. I went after one couple who altered the course of their path upon seeing my approach. “Why’d you walk away?” I asked as I increased my gait, catching up with the two. “I was just coming over to say hi to you. Why do you just assume that I’m a bad guy?” I caught the boyfriend and led him to our derelict car, where I locked him in the trunk. “Now,” I said to him as I sat on the lid, “what have we learned about making assumptions about people we don’t know?”
Probably my favorite victim was a petite young lady, as cute and sweet and innocent looking as you could ask for -- until her two friends left her behind to be captured by me. She screamed out to her fled companions as I closed in on her, “Get your asses back here, you whores!” Once I’d locked her in a cage and she was on her knees trying to retrieve the key with a makeshift hook and line, her friends returned to giggle at her misfortune. “Fuck you, bitches!” she cursed them. She was still having fun, mind you, but her ire was probably the high point of my evening.
And just like a gang bang with a group of homicidal monsters, the weekend left us exhausted and satisfied.
Next up, Sacramento!