Scaring Evan Dando (or the “prank” that went so wrong)

Okay. In my defense, I was barely above the recommended alcohol limit. It was a day of celebration, after all, Antonia and Evan’s big wedding. It was also the occasion when I would meet in person many of the people I’d become friends with online, like Susan and Holly. Throughout the day, the privilege of seeing and filming many jam sessions not only with Evan, but musicians of the likes of Willy Mason and, of course, the great Brazilian father-in-law, Renato Teixeira.

Teixeira and the beautiful Serra da Cantareira (Mariporã)

The extra drinks I had with such fine people as Chris T (Lemonheads manager) and Jessie Pinnick (lovely actress and Willy’s girl) would obviously go to my head. I asked T when Evan would be doing Lollapalooza, and he replied: as soon as the new album was released. Jessie Pinnick, a cocktail expert, charmed me with her friendliness even before I discovered her side as a singer and budding actress. She confessed to me that she was quite drunk, but that she hid it very well. I should have guessed…

This whole introduction is to talk about a prank call that went (very) wrong after this festive day. I know Evan doesn’t like the topic, because in the first interview he gave me in Brazil (and officially his first here), he told me that he doesn’t talk about the “shit” prank call he received from the members of Nirvana who called him pretending Madonna was on the line waiting to talk to him. To this day, I believe that not even Evan and Antonia know exactly what happened on that pre-wedding night, and they may find out at the same time as you who read this chronicle.

Evan wouldn’t stop moving his head to the music

So, let’s get to it. For those unfamiliar, Serra da Cantareira, the Dando couple’s new home, is about an hour from the capital of São Paulo, also known as São Paulo. It’s safe to say they both live essentially in the middle of the jungle, with dim lighting, a lot of mud, and no living souls except for the canaries in a coma. Which usually means an Uber driver has to be a hero to agree to pick up post-wedding guests there. Which was the case for me and my friends. As the car shifted into first gear to climb the numerous hills, the driver wanted to know who the famous person who lived there was (perhaps out of curiosity or even anger at having to subject his new vehicle to the local conditions – yes, it was raining).

My friends and I tried to explain, obviously playing some songs from “It’s a shame about Ray” and evidently the cover of “Mrs. Robinson”, but nothing that made much sense to the driver who continued impassively braving the darkness – and asking me to at least not spill beer in the car. As we approached the city, we noticed that Evan and Antonia’s car, who had left the party at the same time as us, was next to ours. Much easier than blasting a series of indie classics over Bluetooth, we pointed to Evan in the passenger seat so the driver would finally understand who the famous guy was. We even honked the horn to get the rock star’s attention, but the lovebirds remained focused on the road, engaged in a deep conversation that was surely quite interesting.

We continued our journey until we lost track of them again, with euphoria taking over the Uber to the point that I even spilled a drop of beer on the dashboard under the (now) stern gaze of the driver excited to have seen a famous person in the middle of the night. So, we were pleased with the glimpse of Evan’s face when we were lucky enough to park at the traffic light practically parallel to their car. Then I, yes, I, would embarrassingly make a move that I regret to this day. Something my fellow countrymen call “manota.”

I suddenly got out of the Uber and approached their car. Afraid of scaring them by exposing my face to their window, I did something much worse. I tapped on the car’s bodywork three times, making Evan jump in fright, prompting Antonia to immediately accelerate the car. Evan’s terror was so great that it frightened me to the point where I couldn’t move to identify myself. I remained motionless for a few seconds, until Antonia decided to run the red light. Immediately overcome with regret, I returned to the UBER with my friends from São Paulo, and they were assuming I had forgotten that this kind of thing is not done in São Paulo, a city with a record number of all kinds of robberies.

Upset at the possibility of having disrupted my friends’ wedding night, I immediately called Antonia to apologize, but I didn’t get an answer. My good friend Lirinha advised me: “Let them not know it was you, it’s better.” Whether it was alcohol, stupidity, or both, I don’t know. I only know that in my city, when we’re lucky enough to run into friends at the traffic light after a night out, we take the opportunity to say hi, get out of the car, and maybe even stay the night at other bars. But one thing’s for sure: I’ve seen Evan’s expressions on so many levels, and the look of fear is one I wouldn’t want to see again. Even if it gives me stories to tell about a guy who doesn’t like pranks and another who doesn’t have the slightest skill to pull them off.