The Falcar Lockdown
as you might have heard, we have found a new rehearsal space. Our last sanctuary was destroyed by evil forces early in November and we were homeless for nearly two months with gear stored at Dave and Marty grandmother’s garage. On Christmas day, our friend Vítek notified us about new rehearsal spaces being build in Prague. We acted immediately and moved in the first week of the New Year. It’s funny that the new haven is located near a bridge, which was closed two days after our first rehearsal. Such is the price for playing heavy metal too loud. We all agreed it was Roman’s fault that the bridge had nearly collapsed.
Bridge destruction aside, we’re finally renting our own heavy metal bastion again. And a new place means new stories, which leads us to one story we wanted to share with you. It happened this Wednesday. The place is build like a punk fortress with the ultimate purpose to serve the bands. It’s both inconspicuous and impenetrable, so that all the valuable cargo rests in peace while the bands are away. There are several rooms providing shelter for numerous bands, therefore there are many keys to different doors and bars to achieve the desired status of ultimate security. If you want to get to the toilet, you have to pass two locked doors and two bars. Be quick or be dead from the Iron Maiden has a unique meaning at this place.
Hold the door, hold the door…
Every band plays really heavy, metal at its best, and you can usually hear and feel whether or not there is a band behind the wall. Nevertheless, we had been instructed, that it was mandatory to check the place before locking it all down. We were soon to find why.
We had our regular rehearsal, polishing our new song, the King of the Hill, and we were banging the stuff pretty loud. Roman is punching his kit like a madman, so the rest of the guys usually turn the volume knobs to the right until you hear Davey’s bass shaking your junk. It was impossible to overhear us. Well, after the rehearsal, we unlocked the door leading out of the building, and we were shocked: The door would not open. There was a steel bar on the outside, locked by the band leaving before us. The door were opening to the outside and the bar was attached to it so closely, that it was impossible to move the door at all. Hence there was no way to open it from the inside. We tried calling the landlord, but it was 10 p.m. and no one was answering. No other exits we knew of and every door was locked anyway. There was only one window with another bar attached. We were slowly accepting the fact, that we might have actually spent the night sleeping on the floor of our rehearsal room.
What would Bruce Dickinson do?
We started making fun of the whole situation and since Marty was talking about reading the Bruce Dickinson’s autobiography, Dave taunted: “So, Marty, what would Bruce Dickinson do in this situation?” First there came some jokes about tearing the place up by building a battering ram or something, but then Roman suggested unmounting the window bar from the inside. There were some solid heavy metal screw-threads bolt on the wall, so Marty put the Leatherman knife out of his pocket and after several moments, we unmounted the bar with pliers. We had Marty sneak out of the window to open the door bar from the outside. We then spent several more minutes mounting the window bar back again and soon were on our way across the broken bridge.
Our landlord received two messages that night:
“Help, we’ve been locked in the building.”
“Nevermind, we got out, but you might wanna tighten the nuts on the window bar.”
We felt like we just did a pretty MacGyver stunt, Richard Dean Anderson would be so proud. This story is a confirmation of the popular musicians saying, that every problem on earth can be solved using a pocket multi-tool, WD-40 or duct tape.