It becomes more important to find a place on stage for your fan than your amp.
Your gig clothes are chosen purely for comfort.
All your fans leave by 9:30 p.m.
All you want from groupies is a foot massage and back rub.
You love taking the elevator because you can sing along with most of your set-list.
Instead of a sixth member, your band wants to spring for a roadie.
You lost the directions to the gig.
You need your glasses to see the amp settings.
You’ve thrown out your back jumping off the stage.
You feel like hell before the gig even starts.
The waitress is your daughter!
You stop the set because your ibuprofen fell behind the speakers.
Most of your crowd just sways in their seats.
You find your drink tokens from last month’s gig in your guitar case.
You refuse to play without earplugs.
You ask the club owner if you can start at 8:30 instead of 9:30.
You check the TV schedule before booking a gig.
Your gig stool has a back.
You’re related to at least one member in the band.
You don’t let anyone sit in.
You take a nap before the gig.
After the third set, you bug the club owner to let you quit early.
During the breaks, you now go to the van to lie down…by yourself.
You prefer a music stand with a light.
You don’t recover until Tuesday afternoon.
You hope the host’s speech lasts forever
You buy amps considering their weight and not their tone or “cool” factor.
Feeling guilty looking at hot women at the audience, ’cause they’re younger than your daughter.
You can remember seven different club names for the same location.
You have a hazy memory of the days when you could work 10 gigs in 7 days and could physically do it!
Your date couldn’t make it because she couldn’t find a babysitter for the grandkids.
The set list has to be in 20 point type.
Your drug of choice is now coffee…
It seems impossible to find stage shoes with decent arch support.
You fart on stage and don’t laugh.