Jitters on the Toilet (1980)

 Jitters on the Toilet
Text by Dave Post / FFanzeen 1980 / 2023
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen 2023

Image created by Dave Post, photographed by RBF

Ronnie and the Jitters were a fun band. I have written about them before, but this was submitted by a band member. The Jitters are Dave (bass, who wrote this ditty), Ronnie (vocals), Warren (sax), and Steve (drums).

This short piece of humor was published in FFanzeen, No. 6, dated Year-End 1981. – RBF, 2023

Arriving upon the club in our ’68 Dodge Coronet Wagon, the first business the Jitters attend to, even before checking out the stage and sound system, is a meticulous men’s room inspection (Steve, who takes special pride in this work, will sometimes even investigate the ladies’ room!). Each member of the band gives the room a fastidious examination right down to Ronnie, conducting the “white glove” test for dust and grime.

Warren inspects all the mirrors, if there are any left, for cleanliness and breakage, since his face rarely leaves them anyway. This being done, he compulsively checks out each and every urinal, toilet, tap (hot and cold), and specialty devices to see whether or not they function correctly, while my own job is to determine if there is enough paper towels and toilet paper for safely taking a “New Wave” shit.

Steve, a former plumber’s helper from Chicago, inspects all the pipes for leakage and proper drainage, and makes sure there are adequate waste receptacles on hand.

One thing we’ve invariably learned after a year’s tour of duty, is the uncanny comparison of clientele to the geographical locations of the clubs, whether it be Uptown, Downtown, Jersey, or the hinterlands. A perfect example of this is the men’s room at the Meadowbrook: a ritzy New Jersey “New Wave” club with a men’s room attendant (the ladies have a matron). As you wash your hands, he already has a towel in waiting, and will sell you your choice of cologne. This rest room also has a lounge with a couch, military etchings on a wall absent of graffiti, and ice in the urinals.

On the other hand, CBGB on the Bowery, well, no need to elaborate on the denizens of this area, or their bathrooms.

While not at all complete, we hope this guide will help ease the apprehension one feels when entering an unknown “New Wave” facility. So, in the immortal words of the Ramones, flush twice: “It’s a long way back to Germany.”

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