Wastin'
Away Again
Could
someone please remind me one
more time why it is that I
continue to live in the Northeast?
I don't like snow, nor any
snow-related activity. Winter,
to me, is one series of uncomfortable
inconveniences after another.
Remember
those two weather phenomenons?
El Nino and La Nina or whatever?
Aberrations of the atmosphere,
maybe, but they gave us here
in the northeast a few of
the calmest, warmest winters
ever. Quite frankly, I almost
forgot how much I hate winter...
I started to think that maybe
I was adjusting to the climate
here - perhaps I was mellowing
with age. Winter isn't that
bad, I thought. Maybe I just
overreacted in past years.
Maybe I could be happy here
in the northeast passing the
time between warm-weather
seasons....
Ha!
Winter
2000/2001 has been a classic
New England winter. Big storms
followed by a day of rest
and then another big storm.
Ski areas are happy for the
first time in years. I, on
the other hand, am miserable.
Now
before you start flooding
me with hate mail, let me
make one thing perfectly clear
- I think every Christmas
should be a white Christmas.
Let it snow on Christmas eve
(after, of course, I've arrived
safely wherever it is that
I'm headed) and let the kids
and the romantics wake up
to a nice, frosty holiday
morning. But come 8AM on the
26th of December.... bring
on the 70 degree days.
You
see, for the most part my
job is pretty cushy - I sleep
in late, only work a few hours
a day and (theoretically anyway)
have young, nubile women throw
themselves at me because of
what I do. But the job really
sucks in the winter because
musicians, unfortunately,
don't get snow days.
It
goes something like this:
The
weather people predict a big
storm (usually with some made-for-tv
dramatic name like "The Winter
Blitz") and lots of people
who hate winter as much as
I do decide to go out to their
local bar and drink themselves
silly. Bar owners the figure
that if you have a bunch of
people, you should really
have someone there to entertain
them.
Namely,
me.
So
I trudge two hours through
the snow, risking life and
limb, to play to this crowd
who, at the end of the night,
all stagger down the block
to their nearby homes while
I load out all my gear and
then try to trudge back home.
Now
I don't know if you've ever
driven long distances in the
snow at 3AM but between the
piles of slush and ice on
the highway, the people who
probably shouldn't be behind
the wheel of a car on a DRY
road and battalions of road
plows stretched across the
highway in formation who think
that they are re-enacting
some scene from "Road Warrior",
it is a real adventure.
And,
honestly, nothing brings a
tear to my eye quicker than
singing Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville"
on a snowy New England night.
It makes me dream of the warm
smell of south Florida, the
sounds of Key West and the
bright sun shining on the
Gulf of Mexico. The dream
is shattered, of course, when
I step knee deep in slush
a few hours later.
Sometimes,
just for fun, the locals come
out en force early, so the
bar owners DEFINITELY want
entertainment. Then, as the
road conditions worsen, the
locals get nervous and head
home leaving... just the entertainment.
On one such occasion a few
weeks ago I was left playing
to the bartender and two customers
- and one of the customers
was passed out on the bar.
For
those of you readers who currently
reside in a warm-weather climate
(you know who you are) where
you can read this Ramblings
and then amble outside in
your flip-flops and shorts,
fear not - I harbor no ill-will
or jealousy towards you. Just
remember that it is considered
good form to invite a musician/writer
type into your home for a
week or so somewhere between
the months of November and
April....
Here's
to praying for a West coast
or Southeast tour sometime
real soon.....
This
column © 2001 Lee Totten
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