 |
 |
Read the Goober Diary Archives
November
24, 2004: Gigs in the Heartland
I got back from Chicago Monday night.
There are lots of reasons I am not particularly
suited to the life of an aspiring Rock Star - I'm not great at networking, bars aren't my favorite places to hang out,
I hate driving at night, I hate hanging posters - but, you guys, I love to travel. I love to see new places
and to experience as much as I can of what those places have to offer. To quote my friend Jyoti, traveling "makes my eyes
big." I loved driving through the Indiana countryside, I loved driving past Lake Michigan on the highway, I loved
driving through Chicago, and I loved getting a rare taste of complete freedom. I was all alone, me and a rental car, and
I was tempted to follow the road signs to the states I'd never seen: Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin.
As it turned out, I did add one new state to the list I've been keeping
since I was eight years old, having already added Indiana and Michigan last July, when I went to meet my future in-laws for the first time. My total is
27 states now (though two or three of them I've only driven through, and that doesn't really count). There's still so much to see!!! I wonder if
I'll ever make that cross-country trip I promised myself when I got back from Europe in 1996. I hope so. The West beckons.
Ostensibly, I traveled to the Midwest to
play shows, but it's amazing how much you can pack into those hours between gigs, especially when you're staying with
friends you haven't seen in years. I flew into Chicago on Friday, picked up a Chevy Malibu from the rental place, and headed
East to Elkhart, Indiana. (Hot tip: if you want a mid-size car from a rental agency, reserve the smallest size
they have. They never have the smallest size available, so they'll upgrade you for free.) I was met in Elkhart
by my in-laws-to-be, Dennis and Charlene, who welcomed me back to Elkhart with their characteristic hospitality.
We had hours before my gig at the Daily Grind downtown, so we munched on cheese and crackers while Charlene and I
happily discussed wedding planning. Dennis and Charlene seem to have accepted me
as part of the family already, which I could tell by the teasing I received; Dennis wanted to know how long
my gig was and whether I would mind if he slept through it. I was also teased for my complete inability to pay
attention to directions, but I deserved that. I am constantly driving around lost, and it's my own fault.
There was some discussion of where to eat dinner.
I suggested just finding a place downtown, near the coffeeshop, until they explained to me that downtown Elkhart isn't
really a "downtown" where people go to eat and shop, like it is in other cities. We went to a Chinese buffet on the
main road instead (you know what I mean by "main road" - there's a Bob Evans and a supermarket and several gas
stations, and it leads to the interstate).
The show itself was a lot of fun.
I felt a little rusty in the first set, partly because it wasn't my usual audience. When I go out of town,
I have to remember how to play for people who haven't heard me play before and who don't already have
favorite songs of mine. I threw a few sing-alongs into the mix, and everybody was having as much fun as I was
by the time I started my second set. I sang a birthday song for Shellby, Derik's neice, who turned 11 on
Sunday. I love that I'm marrying into a whole new family! I feel like Elkhart, Indiana is a place that's mine now, as much as Fredericksburg, Virginia
or Atlanta, Georgia is. It's a really neat feeling.
Saturday morning, I headed out on Highway 90, and
after three hours and $5.40 in tolls, I ended up in Crystal Lake, Illinois at Jan and Pat's house. Some of
you Atlanta readers may remember The Official Amanda, the duo I used to be part of with Jan Denny. Well, Jan
Denny is now Jan Bayer, lives in Crystal Lake with her husband Pat and their 2-year-old, Jonathan, and is
expecting her second child. It's trippy to see my friends reproducing, but I'm getting used to it. Jonathan showed
off his running and ball-bouncing skills for a while, and then Jan and Pat ordered a Chicago-style deep-dish
pizza, a local delicacy I'd been ordered to try by several people. Everyone told me Chicago-style pizza was
very thick, but no one told me the sauce would be on the top! I didn't even know that could work, but it was
very delicious; I ate way too much, thinking two slices was an average serving (as with regular pizza). Public
service announcement for anyone traveling to Chicago: one slice is a full meal.
After dinner, Jan and I crammed for about an
hour, trying to remember all the songs we used to sing together. I was afraid it would be a lost cause, but I was
proud of how much came back once she sang the first line of one of her songs or I sang the first line of one of my
songs. Those songs are all still in our heads; it's just a matter of accessing the files. I go years without playing with
Jan, and when we do get together, I'm always surprised at how good we are. I really miss the harmonies we used to
do together, not to mention her guitar playing, which leaves mine in the dust. Jan had put together a house
concert for us, inviting her friends over and serving tea and cake. Jonathan and Emma (a friend's toddler) played
tambourines and wooden blocks during the loud songs and stomped their feet during the quiet ones. Everyone sat on
couches or on the floor. It was a really fun way to do a show, and I so enjoyed playing and singing songs I
hadn't even thought about in years. Some of Jan's songs are really, really fun to sing! I sold a couple of CD's, and
I think everyone enjoyed the show. Jan's friends especially enjoyed hearing her, I'm sure, since she hardly ever
plays guitar anymore. She is happy being a full-time mom, but she misses music. I know I would. (Will? Only
time will tell.) Jan, Pat, and Jonathan have a cozy little life.
After some girlie gossip time with Jan on Sunday
morning (and some Sesame Street and Blue's Clues, the regular watching of which would be the best part of being a parent,
in my opinion), I headed into downtown Chicago for the last gig of my little tour. I arrived at Ann and Allen's house around
2:00 p.m., just after Hannah's nap, and we all bundled up and went to the park. Hannah is 18 months old (I think that's right;
I'm still not used to counting ages in months) and has adorable little pink mittens and a matching hat. She's at
the age where her legs don't seem to quite work yet, but that doesn't stop her from using them. She seemed quite
solemn, but Allen told me it was because she didn't know me: "She takes new people and places very seriously." After
we hung out at the park and played on the swings, we walked around their neighborhood, Hannah in her little stroller and
the rest of us chattering. Well, I chattered, anyway; we had so much catching up to do. We explored the feminist bookstore, which had the
Best Thing Ever - a cardboard cut-out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with whom you could have a Polaroid taken for $2.
Needless to say, I went for it.
After we finished wandering, we went to an awesome
Middle Eastern restaurant for dinner. Their couscous had everything in it, and Ann and Allen discovered that Hannah had
a taste for hummus on pita bread. It was altogether a satisfactory day, and I decided that Derik and I would move to
Chicago, possibly into Ann and Allen's very building, until I realized that, if I actually moved to Chicago, I wouldn't get to
spend all of my time walking around cool neighborhoods and going to museums and stuff; I would have to get a job, and
then I would join a choir and make friends and play shows and end up with the exact same life I have in Atlanta, so busy that I would hardly
ever have time to go out and do stuff just for the hell of it.
My Chicago gig was at Uncommon Ground,
a coffeehouse with a separate listening room. A lot of really cool bands and singer/songwriters have played there,
so I was really excited to have booked the show. Ann and Allen were excited to see me play, and Allen had arranged for the downstairs neighbors
to watch Hannah just long enough for him to catch my set. Ann came early and stayed late, playing roadie and keeping me company
while I listened to the sets from the other two singer/songwriters on the bill. (I was sorry Allen missed Eric Jackson,
whose piano playing reminded me of his.) Allen told Ann to enjoy herself and take her time getting home, to
which she said, "We're going to eat cake as big as our head!" I would love to say that the show went well, but I made a lot of mistakes.
That was because the show was being recorded, so of course I had to make sure that every single song had at least one big, obvious mistake
in it so that none of the tracks were usable. It's just a nerves thing. I absolutely hate being recorded live. I also did my
nervous babbling thing a bit. Example: "OK, so I've heard that Chicago is the windy city, but I haven't found it to be particularly so.
Maybe I just came at the wrong time. Also, I've heard more about sports on the radio in three days than I have the entire time I've lived in
Atlanta. Whoever this Peyton guy is, they talk about him a lot. And, um, I wish him well in his endeavors
for whatever sport it is that he plays." And on like that. Sometimes when I babble, the audience finds it
rather charming and endearing. Sometimes, they just think I'm an idiot. In either case, I can't stop babbling
once I start, so I have to just hope for the former. Ann and Allen loved the show and thought I was awesome,
so I'll just assume that was the general concensus. (If you'd like to decide for yourself, they'll be playing
clips from the show on the streaming internet radio station on Uncommon Ground's web site.) I had on my favorite pants and my "Goober" t-shirt,
so I looked good, if nothing else.
After I played, Ann and I ate cake that, while
not quite as big as our heads, was more than satisfactory, being chocolate, accompanied by ice cream, and
drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauce. Brian McSweeney, the singer/songwriter who follwed me, said onstage
that he'd slept until 11:00 that day and then eaten Indian food, and Ann said, "Oh my God, it's been so long.
Suddenly, I'm eighty years old." I said, "But, Ann, you're here! You're out! We're rockin'!" That sent us into
a fit of giggles, and I was so happy to be hanging out with Ann again. Ann and Allen are so great - organized, focused,
neat (they seem to do everything right), but also funny, easygoing, and up for anything. I don't
know how they do it.
Monday morning we got up early (I have
learned this much: people with small children get up early) and ate waffles for breakfast while Hannah, who
had decided she was used to me, toddled from room to room, carrying around shoes, books, crayons, and Maurice,
her stuffed bear, all while doing her best imitation of Elton John with a pair of striped sunglasses.
The only stressful part of my whole trip
was the drive back to the airport. When I rented the car, I took the deal where you pay for a tank of gas up front
and don't have to fill it up before you take it back. Therefore, I was hoping to use exactly one tank of gas and no
more. When I left Ann and Allen's house, it seemed to me that I would end up at the airport with gas to spare, but
then I went the wrong way on Foster Street and had to turn around, which added about 40 minutes to my trip (good
thing I left plenty of time). The gas light came on during the unintentional detour, and I white-knuckled it all the way
to the airport, watching the needle hit the red line, praying that I wouldn't take any more wrong turns and that the airport really was only about thirty
minutes away. I did indeed make it to the airport without running out of gas (whew!) and congratulated myself on
being such a savvy car renter. From Chicago to Elkhart, IN, to Crystal Lake, IL, back to Chicago on one tank of gas
is not bad. (Of course, I would have had plenty of gas to spare if I hadn't spent so much of my driving time driving around lost,
but hey, it worked out.) Usually, I like to get to the airport hours early and just read a book, secure in the knowledge
that there's no possible way I will miss my flight, but my detour put me a bit behind schedule. Still, I made it in
plenty of time, and my flight got delayed an hour anyway, due to bad weather in Atlanta. (Chicago and Indiana, on the other
hand, were perfectly lovely, and not nearly as cold or windy as I'd been led to believe they would be.) My friend Wicked Pete "Yamguitar" Speakeasy
had loaned me his hard case for my guitar in case I had to gate check it, but the AirTran employees were actually
very cool about letting me stow it in the overhead bin. Given some of the horror stories I've heard from fellow
musicians, I was prepared for them to take a hard line, but it was all cool.
The Weekend of Kids came to a fitting end on the flight home, where
I ended up sitting in the last row with the unaccompanied minors, three kids who were on their way from one parent to another.
They kept me plenty entertained, although, when I finally got to Atlanta, I found that I was exhausted. The thing about kids is that
they never stop talking, and they never stop wanting attention. They were very cute, though. I felt bad for them, being shuttled
back and forth. Once, when I was 12 and my sister was 10, we were unaccompanied minors flying home, and, while there were perks
(we got upgraded to Business Class for free, and we felt awfully special), we were treated kind of like especially
inconvenient baggage; the airline staff who were assigned to us
didn't even try to pretend to be happy about being stuck with babysitting detail. (Then again, I
probably took that too personally; I hated being a kid.) Julian, a 4th grader, said that he was living in Chicago with his father that year and visiting
his mother in Raleigh for the holidays and that the next year, he would switch. He has to switch schools every single year! Maybe that
makes sense for the sake of "fairness" to both parents, but I can't help wondering what judge decided that arrangement would be
good for Julian's education. Julian likes video games, cartoons, and Mad Magazine, and he plays drums in his school band.
Ariana, a red-headed 9-year-old who looked younger, gave Julian and me a play-by-play of the scene outside, since
we didn't have a window. She wanted to show me silly games I'd forgotten all about, like when you make a "gate" with your
hands and go, "Open the gate. Who do you hate? That's your date!" My favorite Ariana quote from the trip was,
"Want to hear my name in Spanish? Ariana!" Julian said his name in Spanish was "Juliano," then asked me what my
name would be in Spanish. I didn't think Spanish had a version of my name, so Julian decided it was "Lindsayana."
I tried to tell them I was a famous musician, but they wouldn't believe me, so I said, "OK, I'm not really famous.
But I am a musician, though." They asked me to elaborate on my so-called music, which I did, but they were both skeptical. When we landed and
I took my guitar down from the overhead bin, Ariana's eyes lit up, and she said, "You really do play guitar!" I laughed,
"What, did you think I was lying to you?" She was on her way to visit her father, whom she hadn't seen in six years. That's a long
time when you're 9 years old! I hope they're both having a good Thanksgiving with families who love them.
Now I'm back at work, kind of wishing I was a Rock Star full-time. I just had such an amazing time
this weekend! I decided long ago that the best way to tour was to figure out who I wanted to visit and then get gigs in that area.
"Career" tours just aren't as much fun, and they're more of a pain; you don't have places to stay, you have to pay for all
your meals, you don't have anyone to talk to between shows. This tour, I only bought two meals, both at airports,
and I got my round-trip flight for free (it was payment for a caroling gig I did for AirTran last December). My only
expense was the rental car, and I made enough from tips and CD sales to cover that and turn a $30 profit! It's not a living,
I know, but it paid for a really nice vacation! Today is the day before Thanksgiving, and work is a ghost town.
It's just me, one person in the ticket office upstairs, and an occasional tumbleweed. Yesterday, the office was bubbly
with everyone's plans. One of my co-workers brought in his dog yesterday, and we all took turns chasing her around
the hallway. Everyone wore jeans, in flagrant disregard of the dress code. Perhaps today I will take the time to make
a list of the things I am thankful for. If I do, you will be on it, all of you who have listened over the years,
supported me in my endeavors, laughed along with me when I've done stupid things, cheered for me when I've gotten it
right, and believed in me through it all. I hope you never feel cheated by this part-time Rock Star; I hope I always
give you what you're looking for. Fame and fortune may never come my way, but I'll be here, writing and playing, whenever
you feel like listening.
When I got home Monday night, I was feeling philosophical
and trying to decide what I really wanted to do with my life. (I blame the rain.) I told Derik all about my adventures and how much
I loved being out on the open road, just a girl with a guitar and a dream. I told him how happy my friends seemed with their
adorable offspring, doing the mommy and daddy thing, but that they didn't get much time to themselves and that there
will definitely be sacrifices to be made if we should decide to go that route. I told him that I couldn't decide. Part of me wants to
be a free-spirit, an artist, the wind in my hair and the open road calling. But part of me missed my boy and my kitty
to distraction and wants nothing more than to go home every night to a warm house, cook dinner, and curl up with
the one I love. It's so hard to choose! Then Derik said, "In other words, you should keep doing exactly
what you're doing."
He's so smart.
What’s
in my stereo at home:
- Morphine - B-Sides & Otherwise
What’s
in my car:
What's
in my CD player at work:
- Cajun Hot Soles - Cajun Hot Soles
What
I'm reading:
|
|
|
