It’s an absolutely stunning day. The sun sets ahead of us as we slowly turn north to creep our way up the far edge of Pennsylvania. We’re taking a slightly more circuitous route to avoid the nastiness of Pittsburghian traffic as we make our way to Bocktown Beer and Grill. Heather sticks her tongue out at me as my eyes wander out her window…she’s got a Lovely golden aura from the low-hanging sun that I normally associate with Kristen’s hair. Our cellist, on the other hand, keeps her glow to herself, curled up and snoozing in the back seat.
Sometimes I’m amazed at what we can fit in this Saturn. This is one of those days. Merch, three people’s instruments, bodies, random trappings and our clothes for a week’s worth of time, plus a full PA system (that we’ll use for only ONE night of the next five!) and a pillow or two.
Shit. Actually – we might NOT have a pillow or two. I think I forgot my pillow!
After two dates in Pittsburgh we’ll be heading seven or so hours east to NERFA (North Eastern Regional Folk Alliance). We’ll be performing at least half a dozen times throughout the conference and taking notes on the rest. We hope to re-meet with lots of friends and newly meet plenty more, and I’ll see if I can remember ANYONE’S name. I’ll be lucky if I can remember my OWN by the end of the third night and then Sunday morning we’ve got to get up early (after a 1.30am performance the night before), drive about eight hours, and run my open mic back in Takoma Park. Greg Klyma will be my featured artist and any claim I’ll have to fatigue he’ll have an even greater claim to – he’ll have played a house concert betwixt Kerhonkson, NY and Takoma Park, MD.
The moon is hanging to my right and the sun is hidden behind the mountains to my left and somewhere up above me an asteroid is hurtling past. It’ll pass as close as it plans to pass in about two hours and WTOP has melodramatically dubbed it a “murderous heavenly body” despite the fact that it will miss quite thoroughly. Just another example of how the media likes to colour our world.
A sign declares it 51 miles to Pittsburgh yet and it seems like the ride’s been inordinately long. Perhaps it’s just that we haven’t taken a trip in a while, or perhaps it’s the tight pack making it all feel slightly more claustrophobic. Maybe it’s my shoulder, which hurts more and more over the years, especially when I’m trapped in a car. For some reason the drive is just dragging on and just as the GPS and the road signs assure me but another hour confined on the road, the traffic slows for construction, a lane closure, flagmen, flashing lights. Good a place as any to slow to a halt and watch the sun go down under a cloudless sky.
