Originally told to /OT while I was still on a bit of a high - Ain't Nothin' But The Blues
This happened to me shortly after New Year. As most of my fellow /offtopic dwellers will know (due to me banging on about it at great length), I'm a bass guitarist and have played in quite a few different bands around London. The following is my "Surely this sort of thing only happens in films?" story:

As my friend's Sunday afternoon jam was not running as normal, I decided to head up to the blues bar just off Regent Street - I do love the place, even despite how crowded it gets, and the idea of getting a chance to play at their jam did excite me somewhat. So I turned up, got myself a pint, put my name down and enjoyed some music.

Initially, the afternoon took a turn for the worse: I got a text message after about half an hour from a drummer in my one of my bands. I had a sneaking suspicion that the singer and guitarist had decided to replace him, and from his text I got the impression he'd only just found out. I gritted my teeth and resolved to give him a call after the jam.

Things picked up: I got up and played bass for a couple of sets, and then BrianHequator turned up and we indulged in that popular pastime of drinking beer.

After the jam, the venue had a band booked to go on. I thought, I won't overdo it tonight. I'll nip outside and call this drummer, then maybe I'll have another pint with Brian...possibly two...and see what the band are like.

Made the phonecall. Turned out my suspicions were correct: the singer or guitarist didn't have the decency to tell him he was being replaced until he phoned them up that day to ask what the plan was for the gig this weekend. Thankfully he wasn't angry with me; I resolved to have words with the rest of the band about their manners - were they not British?

The pint that Brian pushed into my hand as I wandered back in was very welcome. It was then that I noticed a few of the guys from the jam, including the guy who ran it, and word eventually got round to me that the band who were booked had completely forgotten to turn up. I tutted and mentioned to Brian that someone like me would have given their right arm to play this place, and this guy can't even remember to turn up?

The contingency plan dawned on me when one of them pointed at me and said,
"Well, he can play bass."
Suddenly I was at great pains to retract any statements I had made pertaining to the sacrifice of my limbs.

Half an hour later, I was back on the stage, tuning up my cheap P-bass copy and knowing that I was actually here to play a gig. Not just the jam. A gig. It was difficult to try and keep a slightly bewildered grin under control.

It was great. I could barely hear what I was playing, but people told me I did well. And they kept bringing booze over to the stage for us. After the singer announced it would be his birthday at midnight, they even bought up a bottle of champagne.

I had a quiet drink with them after the punters had all been thrown out and even got paid for my troubles. Possibly the most peculiar gig I've ever played. Certainly the shortest notice, emphasised by the singer occasionally saying,
"Can we hear it for the band? These guys have never actually played together as a band before," and pointing over to me,
"...and I only just met this guy."
And possibly the longest wait I've had for a night bus in quite some time, but I won't let that put a damper on things. I shall take my croissant in the drawing room now.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 18:19, 2 replies)

Taking your gear on the bus must've been a bit of a comedown.

(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Sat 20 Aug 2011, 11:04, closed)

A bit of a sobering return to reality, yeah.
But then I almost always end up on some sort of bus or train on the way back from gigs. At least on this occasion I hadn't had to bring my own amp!
(LongJohnBaldry, Sat 20 Aug 2011, 15:35, closed)