French Faceplant
The six-week Europe tour was coming to a close. We were on the 22nd of 23 show days in a row. This particular chain started in Sofia, Bulgaria, and concluded with two dates in Paris. The date was December 1st, which was remarkable as I hadn't changed pants since our travels started in late October. So for the first time in my life I spent an entire calendar month (November) wearing the same black slacks every day. I adhered to this bizarre goal despite many reasons not to - including a friend accidentally spilling a beer all over my legs in Rotterdam a few nights earlier. Yes, all other articles of clothing were washed and changed regularly.
Anyway... Tonight's gig was at Petit Bain - a rock club in a big boat on the Seine. We loaded our gear via ramps and had a nice casual soundcheck on the large stage. After the usual daily ordeal setting up four (!) keyboard controllers, a whole computer system, and a bunch of midi gear connecting all the above, I took my standard photos of the venue: one from the stage looking out, and then one from the floor looking back at the stage. I made this a habit to help future recollections as these rooms tend to blur during the course of many long, sleep-deprived weeks on the road.
After getting the shot from the floor, I sprinted across the venue to leap back onto the stage so I could start warming up. Except - given exhaustion and the tiniest reduction of balance from being on a boat - I failed to reach the appropriate altitude, thus catching my shoe on the stage's edge and sending my entire body hurtling in an unexpected direction.
The result: the total force of my forward momentum was concentrated into my face as it flew right into the side panel of my largest keyboard. I didn't see it coming at all. I only remember everything going black and hearing my keyboards fall over before I realized what happened.
Oops! I knew it must have looked pretty bad because instead of everybody laughing I registered nothing but the humorless concern as bandmates came over to check on me. I made a quick damage report. Miraculously I escaped major injury. My nose bled a tad, and I could already feel it swelling, but somehow it wasn't broken. The keyboards, and my glasses for that matter, remained undamaged as well. Could have been a lot worse.
I got ice and a towel and froze my schnoz for a while in the dressing room. And after I sulked through soundcheck I went on a long walk around Paris with Oliwia. Luckily it was a bitterly cold evening in the city, and just breathing the air through my nose for an hour did wonders for keeping the swelling in check.
Despite the constant worry blood would suddenly spray out my nostrils before an unsuspecting audience, it didn't - and this show ended up being perhaps my favorite of the tour. We played for almost two hours. And, coincidentally, this gig ended with Timba intentionally diving into Kenny's drumkit.