In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, the metal band, TEETH, shares one of their stories from being on the road. You can check out the story, after the break.
Many years before Chris and I formed TEETH, we were both touring in separate bands, Chris was in Dead and Divine and I was in a band called Straight Reads the Line. In the early-to-late 2000s, our bands often toured together. One of our first tours ever was with each other’s bands. We were sent out to do a full across-Canada tour. East Coast/West Coast shit. The experience itself was one I’ll cherish forever. Everything was fucking dope. The shows were packed and insane, the shenanigans outside of the shows were hilarious. To take things to the next level we eventually started fucking each other’s vans up (Van Wars) at every opportunity to present itself with the exception of at the venue. Gas stations, piss stops, visiting a loved one’s tombstone, all fair game. We would paint the rigs with nacho cheese and chili from 7-Eleven, whip eggs that we borrowed from a local grocery store, tossing piss jugs, carving obscenities into the vehicle with a key, firing roman candles while the other band was gassing up, you know, real safe stuff.
All that fun was about to come to a screeching halt. We went to a party one night after a show we played in Weyburn, Saskatchewan. The next night was supposed to be in Saskatoon. So the next morning everyone’s hungover and feels like shit except the only person who didn’t drink the night before/DD, and he just so happens to be allergic to bees…
As we embark on our drive hitting the narrowest highway in Canada, we’re all passed out like a murder scene in our 1995 Ford Club Wagon. Fully loaded with a 13-inch box TV/VCR combo so we could play Mario Kart on the drives, windows cranked because the A/C is fucked, we were making great time getting to the next show.. That is until a friendly little bee (dead or alive?) lands on our driver’s lap. The driver looks at bee, driver gets distracted, driver panics, and by the time the driver gets his eyes back on the road we’re already swerving on gravel. We go left, we go right and I’ll never forget the noise that ensued after hearing someone in the back scream “HANG THE FUCK ON!”
The van rolls, the trailer lands in front of us, and looks like it was opened by a can opener. All of our gear and merch are scattered across an empty field, somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere in Saskatchewan. The van somehow lands on all four tires. Everyone walks away with cuts and scrapes, except for our guitarist who is ejected from the vehicle with some pretty major cuts and bruising, as well as breaking his collarbone. He made a full recovery. Lucky to be alive, no doubt. I don’t talk to those dudes much anymore, but I could probably speak for all of us when I say that we’re all grateful to still be here today, and I personally take touring and safety/life on the road much more serious as I continue pursuing what we love to do most in this life. Be safe out there. Oh also, all this shit went down on my 21st Birthday. Have fun out there, kids! – Blake