RESERVOIR DOGS in an oil slick

RESERVOIR DOGS in an oil slick
By Barry Bozeman in Transferred from Stories From The Road Giants
or WHAT HAPPENS IN RENO means the names must be changed.
Circa 1980 Reno Nevada

The RESIVOIR DOGS band and crew busses pulled into the MGM Grand Reno shortly after noon the day before our gig at The University of Nevada Reno. We headed to the massive check in desk to find our rooms were not yet ready for occupancy. On top of that the hotel had messed up the reservations and put me in the same room with Mr Blue – one of the leaders of the band – and band members always got their own private rooms. “It's OK” says Mr. Blue “We can work it out I don't mind if it's ok with you”. Cool guy Mr. Blue.

The DOGS and a couple of the crew set off to search the cavernous casino with me since we had an hour or so before our rooms would be ready. Mr Pink spied the Baccarat Room and wondered aloud about how the game was played.

Now at that hour the private Baccarat room was empty with the exception of the 3 man pit crew and we were invited inside with a flourish. I was the only one present with any knowledge of how the game was played but the pit boss was a big fan of the Dogs so he offered them a lesson. Mr Blue, Mr Brown, Mr. Blonde, Mr. White, Mr Orange and Mr. Pink sat down and eventually started to play and actually win. The mood was jovial and the Dogs signed a couple of autographs so the pit boss came over and asked if there was anything he could do for us.

“The hotel messed up and put Mr Blue and I in the same room” I said “That doesn't hardly seem right”. “No problem” said the pit boss "let me see what I can do". It wasn't long before he returned to the table with another key. “Compliments of the house” he said as he handed it to me "I think you will find these accomodations satisfactory". Here's a tip for those that don't know. Always take the band to the Bacarat Room if you want comped rooms or meals at a casino. Those people have a lot of juice with the hotel and always have the best comps.

Since the time had expired for the rooms to be ready we adjourned from the Baccarat pit thanking the crew for their hospitality and our winnings and we headed for the elevators. I got off on the floor indicated by my new key and walked to the end of the hall. The double doors opened on a huge corner suite. There was a large wet bar and seating area with 3 sofas flanked by a railing and a massive bed with a mirrored ceiling and a nice entertainment system. The bath was huge with a shower that would hold up to five and a john flanked by a TV and a phone plus 2 sinks with a jacuzzi and bidet. “Holy Crap” I called and immediately had several offers for roommates and my place was designated RESIVOIR DOG Reno party headquarters for the duration of our two night stay.

Mr Pink and I had met two young beauties at the airport when I drove over with him to pick up a Delta Dash shipment of some parts we needed for the console so we got them on the phone and suggested they bring their friends and band aides to the MGM for a party. They arrived an hour later with some friends.

That evening a serious party ensued with all of the necessary accoutrements for a long night. This happened to be a rare night off with the gig scheduled for the next day. Mr Pink and I partied until the wee hours and we each were blessed to be left with our new friends under the mirrored ceiling. Mr. Blue and Mr. Blonde ended up with 2 each and headed off to their private rooms. No need for blow up dolls in Reno.

I had just drifted off to sleep around 3am when my phone rang. Mr Blue was on the line. “Hey man, do you have any of that baby oil left?” He asked, “my nasal passages are all dried out from this desert air and I need some right away” Now we both knew that baby oil was really the last thing on his mind and the last thing the band aids he had in tow really wanted. But there was a policy with management and crew to try to keep the Crazy Eight thing to a minimum on days there was a gig. We didn't want the RESIVOIR DOGS too whipped to play. But I told him I would be right down with his baby oil.

I still had the key to the room we were supposed to share before I got the mirror on the ceiling suite so I knew the room number.

I took the elevator to the ground floor where there was a small 24hour convenience store and there I found a bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil I purchased from a curious young cashier. When I got back to Mr. Blue's floor I walked to his room and keyed open the door without knocking, stuck my head and arm inside and tossed the bottle in a long slow arc into the middle of the bed occuppied by Mr Blue between the two lovely band aids. He yelled something obscene and they laughed but I shut the door and ran.

I really did not know how he might take it. Baby Oil wasn't what he really wanted but that was all he was getting from at 3am on a gig day in Reno so he would have to make do. I hoped he wouldn't hold it against me and would at least appreciate the practical - and it actually was practical - joke.

I got back to the mirrored ceiling corner suite to join my sleeping new friend for a few more hours of fun and sleep and didn't hear anything for the rest of the night or morning. Around 11am several of the Dogs made their way to the suite to recap the events of the night before and everyone was in a good mood. I still didn't know how Mr Blue felt about my baby oil.

Around 2pm there was a knock at the door of the suite and in comes Mr Blue with the two band aides in tow. They resembled three pelicans pulled from the Gulf after the BP oil spill. Their hair was drenched and matted to their skulls and they glistened in the midday sun streaming in from the windows. They were all smiles and laughter. It seems a great time was had by all and they did not miss the thing they thought they wanted. Evidently they got a few hours of oily sleep and felt great after their early morning oil bath. I wondered what it was like to sleep like that. I doubt they had any dry desert skin problems that week.

They made good use of the massive shower and left the suite with a shortage of clean towels. I can't imagine what that bed must have looked like in Mr. Blue's room. I expect they likely had to trash the sheets and maybe the mattress.

The Resivoir Dogs had a great show that night in Reno and I regretted letting go of the MGM mirrored suite the next morning but we were off to the Sacramento fairgrounds for another stop on our JOURNEY in the heat of midday with Bill Graham.

Outside of myself I have no recollection of the other persons involved in this story nor would I be disposed to reveal the names of said persons were I to recall. I do certify the the aforesaid incidents did take place in pretty much the way they are herein described as well as memory can relate. If anyone asks I must have a terrible memory for names. Other members of this group know the names and I trust they will refrain from using the comment section carelessly. I don't want to be on the RESIVOIR DOGS hit list for revealing secrets of the road.

Barry Bozeman – road crew for RESERVOIR DOGS – and key master for Mr. Blue.