When I was fired by a fascist antiquarian book dealer from my job as a rare book cataloger I knew I was free to follow my true path as Samantha, Queen of Hospitality. I filed for unemployment, applied for food stamps (my chosen path not being steady), and stopped using an alarm clock.  I’d been working hospitality for a local nightclub on the side for a few years and loved it.  Bitching tour managers, picky musicians (one from Seattle would only eat fried foods), insane riders (the lists bands give you saying what they insist on before going on stage, like extra large condoms).  It was 1995; I was 25 years of age, I had found my new calling.  Little did I know what was ahead of me.

One evening after a very impressive meal for Voodoo Glow Skulls (enchiladas, Spanish rice, and salad), their booking agent and I were having a drink or four and I was blabbering about my wanting to go on tour.  Rick (booking agent extraordinaire) asks what I’m doing in December.  “Me? I’m doing a whole lot of nothing.”  “Want to go on the road?” He asks.  I answer, “Good God, yes!”

The tour was called Snocore and was going to last a month and stop primarily at ski resorts.  The line up was mainly punk bands most people have never heard of with one exception: Sublime (that’s the one), Guttermouth, Skankin’ Pickle, and The Line (who were only on the bill because they were sponsored by a sneaker company also sponsoring the tour).  These bands may not mean anything to the average person, but to punk or ska aficionados they were the cat’s meow.  Throughout this telling of my adventure I will be mentioning band names people may or may not have heard of, they are real band names.  Most were “big” in the punk/alternative scene in 1995, I’m not name dropping to make myself seem cool, it was part of my job to know them.  Believe me I often dreamed instead, of making muffins for Pete Seeger or Peter, Paul, and Mary.

So, I get offered more money than I’ve seen in my life.  Don’t get excited or start calling me a sell out, especially as I had very little to sell.  That amount comes to $300 a week for four weeks.  I thought “Wow I’m rich” (and that’s not the usual Samantha brand of sarcasm).  It really did seem like a huge amount of money.