We've all been there; either as the blocker or the blockee (or both!), but we've all been there. This thread is intended for all things cock-blocking related; a place to tell memorable tales, vent about past injustices, to purge one's self of pent-up guilt, to offer advice or whatever else.
My most memorable CB moment came @1983 when I was playing with The Blasters. It was springtime and we were home in L.A. but had to fly to Phoenix AZ to open a show for the Mick Fleetwood Blues Band. To make a long story short, it was Daylight Saving Time Sunday and both the lead singer and myself forgot to set our clocks ahead and missed the flight. No problem; there's flights from LAX to PHX every hour or so on one airline or another. We got there @2hrs late, which meant we went directly to the gig to soundcheck, eat and then play. When we got to the venue, the road manager handed us our hotel keys and I pocketed mine without even looking at it.
We played our opening-act show to a good reception at this minor league ballpark (we went on after a ballgame and the friggin' players kept coming into our dressing room looking for beer) and some of us hung around to watch Mick Fleetwood's band. Backstage, after the show, this super-hawt REDHEAD came and sat on my lap and I pronounced us "hooked-up". There was an after-party and I took this gal there and spent most of my time drinking, doing lines and watching all these pro-athletes and other rock&roll types get shot down by her because she was digging on me!
It was time to go and, because she lived with her mom, we couldn't go to her place so it was off to the hotel, where I hadn't yet been. I pulled out my key to get the name of the hotel and saw nothing but "Drop In Any Mailbox - Postage Guaranteed" and a P.O. box/zip-code. This is before cell phones so I gamely (lamely) decided to get a cab and hit the usual stretch of hotels/motels, stopping at each one and asking if our band was staying there. After @40mins of this my gal started sobering up and getting cranky. Finally I just put her in a cab and sent her home. Then I went to a Denny's to think things through and what I should've thought of in the first place suddenly popped into my head...I called the drummer's wife in L.A. and asked, "Jenny...where's our hotel?", and without even asking why she gave me the name, address and phone #.
One of the finest chicks I ever saw in my life, I had it nailed and I SERIOUSLY cock-blocked myself by not knowing where my fucking hotel was.







