Over the weekend, i attended a friend’s 50th birthday party. It was an outdoor picnic, complete with roast pork products, many dozen friends and relatives, and perhaps a few coolers full of beer. She’d asked me to bring my guitar, and be prepared to drop in with one of her other friends to provide some entertainment.
With my arm twisted so tightly behind my back, it took a full nanosecond for me to say “Sure!”, while simultaneously blowing the dust off my set books and digging my guitar case out from under the spare bed.
Dragging my friend Studley McRocklegs along
as roadie for the day, we spent a pleasant afternoon celebrating. When it was time to set up the amps/microphones, we ran the extension cords, and grabbed a few more beers. i had a wonderful time jamming with her friends, encouraging crowd participation*, and throwin’ down like a wannabe rock star!
On the drive back, Studley couldn’t wait to tell me about a conversation that occurred while i was performing.
Charlie [grillmaster, full of Bud Light]: Hey, you’re wife’s really good! Do you think she could play at our pig roast in September?
Abby [Charlie’s patient wife]: She’s not his wife!
Studley: She loves doing it! I’m sure she’d be willing to play…
Charlie: How much does she charge?
Studley: Nothing, she just does it for fun! If there’s a roasting pig, you probably can’t keep her away.
Charlie: She’s good! Seriously, how much does she charge?
Studley: Seriously, she’ll do it for free! [grinning] And careful how you ask that, Charlie!
Charlie: Oh, I ain’t sayin’ she’s a whore or anything…
*Always bring a cowbell. i never leave home without it…