Driving to, staying at, and returning from punk gigs occupies many hours of the day. These hours are sometimes filled with mirth, occasionally populated by discussions of musical world domination and periodically, wallets permitting, fast food.
Quite often however, they are boring. Arduous, drawn out anaesthesia for the mind.
To combat this, over time we created some games to pass the time.
Most of what follows, unfortunately, happened a lot.
Inter Car Charades
Venue: Multiple cars.
No. of Players: 4+ a couple of pretty brave drivers.
Win Condition: All about the taking part.
This simple twist on the classic parlour game necessitates a minimum of two cars travelling to or from a venue. There are two key factors in ensuring a good round of Inter Car Charades.
Firstly, the two drivers need to be halfway competent and staying within a reasonable distance of one another. For us, this usually means driving in convoy and not letting me drive. Which is fine, I’m better at miming anyway.
With that in mind, the second factor you need to consider is what to mime. Our games normally began with a series of easy, one word movie titles to warm everyone up. Typically these were, in this order: Jaws, Jaws 2, Jaws 3 and Seven. We knew we were on a long car journey by the time we were hitting The Hunt For Red October.
Venue: One car.
No. of Players: Anyone within ear short whether they like it or not.
Win Condition: Last throat screaming.
More a piece of performance art than game, our version of I Spy consisted of adherence to a carefully worded script that was screamed at the top of everyone’s lungs until such time as you simply couldn’t do it anymore.
Player: [screaming] I SPYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Everyone: [screaming] Yesssssss?
Player: With myyyyyyy little eyyyyyyyyyye.
Everyone: Gooooo ooooooooon.
Player: Something beginning wiiiiiiiiiith–
Everyone: Oooooooooh, I caaaaan’t wait!
Player: (Insert designated letter).
The guesses were also then screamed as loud as physically possible, as were the yes/no responses. The winning guess would be met by the loudest Roy Walker impression the Player could muster.
Merch Table Tag
Venue: Merch Table.
No. of Players: Entire Band.
Win Condition: Don’t be at the merch table.
Historically, I’ve always been in bands with people who don’t enjoy sitting at the merch table. I’m not sure if other bands have the same issue, but certainly in this rabble, the job of selling merchandise was definitely seen as a burden, in spite of it accounting for the largest portion of money made at gigs by some margin.
This hatred of being stuck at the table resulted in the development of Merch Table Tag. This was an unofficial game, because if we ever owned up to playing it, the ruse would be over. But essentially it consisted of one goal; if you were manning the merch table, by hook or by crook you had to convince someone else to do it. Which usually resulted in this something like this short exchange.
Merch Person: Hey, can you man the table for two minutes? I need a piss.
[20 mins later Merch Person would be spotted at the bar]
This cycle would repeat ad infinitum. And in reality, it’s a game we never stopped playing.
Photo by Incase via Flickr.