The first year we were playing gigs, we played a gig in the basement of this house on Stevens Ave. near Lake Street. I had just been part of a Planet KC show at the mall in Eden Prairie, and had my face painted. That night we headed for Minneapolis and to the house party. This was the first time I met Chris Durrow, as he was living there at the time.
On a set break, I stepped outside for some air and this "bum," for lack of a better term, stumbled by and told me, "Man, I thought you was an alligator." Indeed, he was messed up.
He was so messed up, in fact, that later that night as we were playing I looked over to see him falling backwards into the tables where Roger Learned's turntables were set up. The whole party stopped for a half hour thanks to our pal. I believe Roger threw him out of the house after that. Literally.
But let me tell you, if anyone had to mistake me for an alligator, I'm glad it was that guy. There really was a special something about him and the damage he caused. It was as if he was meant to give us a story to tell.
