My favorite “local” gig is at Cibolo Creek Ranch, a high-zoot resort for the rich and famous, as well as people who just have a lot of money (It’s a 130 mile round trip, which is nothing out here). I only get out there a couple of times a year, mostly because a few other local musicians who have been around here longer than I have ins to the place. So…
I had a blowout on the Ranch on the way in to the gig. Fortunately, the photographer was five minutes behind me, and she gave me a ride to the office. Unfortunately, her Honda Element was too small and packed with camera gear for me to put my stuff in. Fortunately, the hotel and events manager had a ranch truck handy, and so we went out and got my stuff.
I had been wanting to get some face time with this guy, and since it was a five mile ride back to my truck, I had my chance. This guy, it turns out, has managed hotels on Saipan, Guam, and three Hawaiian Islands… I’ve been to all of those places, and we hit it off great.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to change the tire before the gig, so we left my truck out on the ranch, and went back to do the shindig. I played really well… considering my stress level: “Am I going to have any light left to change that tire in?!” Fortunately, the gig was short.
Unfortunately, the HM had to schmooze with the guests; fortunately, the General Manager was available. Nobody ever gets face time with this guy! He was kind of distant at first – typical white person typical hard-ass cowboy – but then he asked… about my vehicle. Cowboys. like. trucks. We hit it off too, and both of them made sure they had my contact info before I left. Yesssssss!
Unfortunately, I had to change the tire wearing my suit (Well, the pants anyway), and it’s a disaster. ARG!
And I need new tires… at $450.00 a pop (Pun intended). Fuck. More beer.