This post is not a list of ten things. I named it that way and contrived a ridiculous, bug-eyed thumbnail to get you to click it, and also to illustrate that most of the list-based articles and videos you click are un-interesting horseshit non-journalism and come from sources not at all invested in bringing you news, entertainment or useful information, but only to expose you to advertisements.
Subscribe now for unlimited drum lesson downloads!
I bring it all.
Below is the greatest cymbal flight case in the world. The only improvements I can imagine are a seat, wings, engine and a stewardess with marzipan-thick foundation and a smile that seems to be just for me, even though she smiles at every farting dolt on every flight.
Because I’m so kind, and because a pretty girl who likes me put me in a positive mood, I’m showing you some photos along with a few tips on how to make your own, should you decide to give it a try. I’m not going to provide measurements or detailed instructions, because I don’t remember most of them, and I’m just not that nice. Use mine as a guide and design your own details – you’ll learn more and it’ll be more fun that way. If you’re a blonde on top, this’ll be a fucking riot. She has no idea what she’s in for.
The concept for this case was to be able to pack my cymbals, drumsticks, cowbells and other accessories (even clothes) into one case, making check-in easier with airlines that only allow 1 piece of check in luggage. I’m not going to complain about the muso check-in hassle & instrument damage situation because guitarists and horn players will provide that service all day, and all things considered I think we have it pretty good. As much as it sucks trying to get your instrument to another city safely, remember that the Wright Brothers didn’t have your shitty artistic dreams and budgetary concerns in mind when they engineered human flight and changed civilization forever. If you have a better idea, invent it, or shut up. I’m drunk, but it’s Christmas and at least I’m cutting down on weed.
Like all good endeavors, it starts with a pristine box. Mine is 6mm plywood, doubled up to 12mm at the top and bottom faces for mounting the handle, latches and wheels securely. To save weight I did the basic joinery with woodworking techniques as opposed to aluminium extrusions and rivets like a normal roadcase.
I use the finest, most expensive tools. They were not available for me here.
I added guide fins to keep the box and lid aligned when closed.
I took a photo of myself at the end of the day to humanize the narrative, like they say you should do in holiday pics. It’s gnocchi.
Because I’m a renaissance man who has to have everything, I added wheels and a retractable handle. You may not be awesome enough to do this yet, but you could always just give up and play video games.
If this bit confuses you, don’t try it yet, or your leading paradiddle finger will end up looking like a spent firecracker.
The plywood rails and plexiglass that hold down the handle look complicated but are actually a divine work of genius. I would do it differently next time though.
What goes in must come out.
I chose to stain and varnish the timber instead of painting it because it ultimately gets more attention that way.
Foam lining, a foam divider, and more wriggle room than your mum’s…ah, you get the point, it’s got plenty of space and I like jokes.
It came in dry at 8.4 kg, which is ok for all the features it has, and fully loaded for a flight it’s exactly 20kg. Isn’t it funny how my toes were clinging for dear life even though I was just leaning a bit to take that photo?
Remember, the best part of making something isn’t in using it and enjoying it for yourself, but in bragging about it to other people like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, and in doing so making yourself seem much more interesting and creative than you actually are.