A Splended Time is Guaranteed for All (part 1)

Saturday afternoon, I was at work, doing anything to not remind myself about that night.

Playing in front of a live audience...

Nevermind awaiting me at home was my polished and tuned (for the billionth time) 62' Rickenbacher in it's hardshell case. Inside there was an army of picks, 12 copies of lyrics to tape to the stage (or what would pass for a stage). My clothes laid out. My bag of centering stones Heather gave me. Various change in case i needed to pay for parking in Portland. Gas up and wash my Herbie. Supergule for my fingertips. Trying and failing to avoid stress acne. And Kimberlinas special stone I had in my car for me to be safe driving home in that hideous snow storm and I'd forgotten to give back.

Yeah, nevermind that. I packed for a war. Which is ironic, because superglue was invented as a field dress bandaid in world war two. Now I use it to avoid blisters on my fingers.

No one knew were I was going, and at the time I preferred it that way. last thing I needed to worry about was my friends watching me potentially bomb out. At least with a sea of people I didn't know who think I suck, I can just be forgotten.

And I hate Portland downtown. It's crazyville, a mass on one way streets and old blue haired ladies in big cars with eternally blinking right turn lights rolling into bus benches. God, I fear driving there. But, i needed to do this. So I braved the hell that is earthbound: paid parking lots with hourly rates. It's were you take cars to scare them straight.

So, I park and pray for the health of my beetle, then remove my guitar case and walk the few blocks to the coffeehouse's open mike night. It would be so easy to turn away. How cool would it be if the place was just shut down by the health board for way too much rat feces? I'm really grasping at straws now and each step is getting harder. I am so hating life and hating being alone here.

And yet me and the Ricky make it to the place: A small business with a pseudostage, various chairs and table, and lots of P.A. equipment and mini 40 watt amps the size of a box of CherrieO's. They even have a keyboard and drum set. The place smells of caffeine and smoke, and I sign in at the counter...one of five names.

Whew! At least it'll be a small crowd right? So, I wait and look around the guitar shop next door. Looking at the forest of pretty pretty guitars and basses, and frolicking with the treble clef faries. Faries. Damn, i starting to wish Heather and Kim were her to give me some support. I'm starting to get nervous. Time to get back to the coffeehouse and just play that one song to the probably two tables of people. there for their lattes.

What the Crap!!!! The place is packed!!! WAY to many people! Wait..wait...wait...what happened... Lets see...Awwww crap. Five people playing tonight. And these people probably have families that pushed them for a career in music, so their whole family and/or friends are here to see lil' Johnny's debut. There's like 30 people here! 30 people all intently watching the open mike night.

30 people to judge my soul.

Okay, dooooon't panic. I'll just ask to be last, on the grounds that i'm using an electric guitar so i need more time, YEAH, that's it, more time to prepare! Then, these people will filter out when their little boy is done with his piece. I'm a genius!

I'm an idiot. I just watch the previous four acts, three acoustic sets and an interesting keyboard/bass husband and wife combo. And all of them played cover songs...i'm going to be the only dork playing an original. Playing something no one has ever heard, or would have no interest in. And when it's time for me....no one had left...

I'm starting to rethink the not having friends idea. Big time.

I've unpacked my guitar, and realize I forgot to bring the strap. Figures. I borrow one off the guy who did the Nirvana cover. I go out on stage to the scattered polite clapping and spend way too much time adjusting the mike for my height. I even cause some feedback: Nice beginning.

Oh god. I wish I wasn't here. My throat is dry, I feel dizzy. I wish I didn't bring my glasses so I can make out the staring faces in the audience. I decide to tune the guitar one more time right here as I clear my mouth of the cotton and try to come up with another stalling tactic.

And I can' t think of any. Time to jump in feet first...

I play.

(end of part one)