You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory 4103 (62)
Sunday, April 2, 2006-2:10 P.M.
What's worse than losing a precious gift? Probably, never having it in the first place. But definitely, being tricked sucks the worst of all.
Corning, NY, home of the Corning glass works and Fat Cats blues 'n' jazz club, home of the Friday night comedy show that was watered down like a pack of Kool Aid thrown into a swimming pool, is over now, and just a memory. Washed away by a two-hour drive home and a good night's sleep, I can talk about it.
As previously chronicled, Friday's show was considerably less than somewhat, artistically and in audience response...I'm no com to be entertaining the old folks. They're patient with me, but I never get off the ground with them, their frame of reference just isn't playful enough to enjoy me. I'll pull every trick out of the bag, sight gags, book jokes, and Don Rickles-style abuse, but somewhere along the line, I can't shake the feeling that they think I should be delivering their newspaper or something.
I slept in Saturday, to be good and rested for the night driving after the show. A trip to a comic book shop that was closed turned into a good thing; I found a newsstand with an old creaky metal comic book rack, and several copies of Marvel's "Exiles" title to be had, to finish up a two-part story I'd been looking forward to. Dumb luck, providence and the good Lord smile every once in a blue moon.
A trip to Wegman's (thank God for Wegman's) and a nice roast beef sub with their new special horseradish mayonnaise, and I was back to the Best Western to kill another five hours until showtime. Unfortunately, I spent part of that time talking with my wife on the phone about the bastard family that lives next door to us...there was a verbal altercation Friday afternoon regarding some of their crap that found it's way onto our front lawn, and my mother-in-law who lives downstairs from us took it upon herselfto throw the crap out. The thugs that live next door, whom we've never liked, threatened my wife's mother, and said something to my wife as she left to go out with our daughter. Of course, she had no clue what the neighbors were talking about, so she let it go, and then when Mama Davis filled her in, she felt a little threatened and scared. Once upon a time, Rochester Police reported seizing a sawed-off shotgun from one of the three apartments next door to us, so you never know what surprises there are to pop out at any moment. It's no way to live, and I certainly don't appreciate these people speaking to anyone in my family, especially when I'm miles (and hours) away.
I strolled in to Fat Cat's just a little before showtime, anxious to get the whole evening over with and get in the car and head home, if nothing else, to reassure my wife that she was somewhat protected. The neighbors aren't very confrontational when I'm home, and have never said anything to me. I think they know that I've read enough Batman comics that I could chill their blood just by looking at them, although I've never tried it. I'm only hoping that if push came to shove, I could dodge bullets like Batman, but criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot, and when they're afraid, they fire their weapons blindly and with no accuracy, so I've got that going for me.
I had a brief conversation with the owner's wife, and I mentioned that I was going to be splitting after showtime, because of the situation back home. She asked me if I checked out of the hotel, and I told her no, because I was there all day and if I had checked out, at noon, or whatever check out time the Best Western offered, I would have had to sit in my car all day, and wouldn't have had anywhere to shower and get ready for the 8:00 P.M. show.
The show was decently attended, not as full as last night, but a more public show and a group of people I felt I didn't have to censor myself for. I had a loose, fluid feel, was good and funny, and got some nice results. At one point, I ditched the microphone, to give the theatrical illusion that I was about to reveal some truths that were "just between you and me," and I really didn't need the mic, because there were only about 50 people in the room, and they could hear me fine. Hans, the owner, who also doubles as the mc, went up after me and ribbed me a little bit about not using the mic, that he had rented it and I didn't wind up using it. I used it for much of the show, I just ditched it for the last 10 or 15 minutes. Hans has a weird way of saying something where you don't know if he's joking or not...I don't care for it very much, but the gig was only two days, so you suffer it and move on.
Miss Gayle went and did her thing, and I retired to the first floor for a complimentary food item. I enjoyed a plate of chicken salad-stuffed tomatoes, a modestly priced menu item, as I don't like to abuse the food and beverage privilege when a club extends it to me...I think it's only respectful. At the bar, I struck up a conversation with a young lady who had seen my performance last night and liked it. She was a medical person, a nurse, and she was there with one of her friends who was playing in the blues band that was to perform later in the evening. The girls in the band had a severe Indigo Girls thing going, but I don't wish to cast any aspersions, everyone was pleasant enough, and then I realized that I virtually opened my Friday show with a joke that could be conceived as gay-bashing, but apparently, no umbrage was taken, because the girl probably wouldn't have started the conversation with me if she were gay (which I can't be certain of) and took offense at my joke (which she may or may not have, and was just talking with me to be polite). Luckily, I didn't put two and two together until just now, or I'm certain I would have been embarrassed and said something untoward in the purpose of being apologetic.
After a few minutes, I headed back upstairs, where Miss Gayle was still doing her thing, and got ready for the closing of the show, the settling up of payment, and the road home. I had already packed my car, so I didn't even need to go back to the hotel, and I was anxious to knot things up and shove off. We shook hands with the audience on the way out, and I actually had a young lady ask me if I had performed at the Hilton in Elmira, just a few miles down route 86, a couple of years ago, and I had, and was surprised that she remembered me! It was actually October 11-12, 2002, and I can tell you that because I keep my engagement books back that far-how anal can you get?
So Miss Gayle and her husband and I head on downstairs while Hans is getting our checks ready. I hate check gigs...if the check's no good, you're hundreds of miles away when you find out, particularly when they hand it to you on Saturday, and you can't cash it until Monday. For the second time in a month, the check was drawn on my bank, so I didn't worry too much about it, I just headed back to Rochester and deposited it. But in the handing off of the check and the obligatory hand-shaking and thank-you's, Hans started asking me if I was driving home or if I was staying the night. I again replied that I was heading home, and he informed me that he paid for two nights, and didn't say it, but sounded like somehow I was wasting his money by not staying.
Now, if this gig had only been one night, believe me, I would have driven down and driven back, and had no problems with it. But it's 120 miles from my club to his house, and the money just wasn't good enough to drive down and back twice. So I stayed over Friday night into Saturday morning, and after the second show, made my plans to drive home. I still used the room all day Saturday...like I said before, if I checked out, I'd be homeless for the day and have to sit in my car. If I slept over and left at 6:00 in the morning, he'd still have to pay for the room, if I left at 3:00 in the morning, he'd still have to pay for the room. If I choose to leave at 10:00 at night, isn't that my prerogative? Isn't the room part of my compensation? I apologized, pleading that I didn't mean to step on any toes, but what else was I to do? He shook my hand, and said that he hoped I'd be back, that I did a good job, but with that tone of his that you don't know if he's breaking your balls or not. I drove home in a huff.
I picked up some food on the way home, and my wife and I ate at the kitchen table while I recounted the evening and read the paper. She finished and left to go check on the baby, and I picked up SPIN magazine, where the coup de grace happened. I was reading the mag, and looking how decidedly un-cool I was...I don't know any of the bands in this magazine. It's a by-product of being a shade under 40, and compounded by being a radio veteran...I used to be the hippest guy around to new bands in almost every genre, now I don't know the Strokes from my earlobe. The SPIN top 15, for example...I've heard of Warren G. and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but I've never "heard" them... the other bands are a fog of college-rock pretentiousness to me. C.L. Smooth? Sufjan Stevens? Art Brut? I'm lost.
So then I head off to the reviews section, and Chuck Klosterman has a review of Guns 'N' Roses "Chinese Democracy." After 15 years, the wait is over! I read the piece hungrily, not realizing what a GNR fan I was, and the review was pretty amazing. I had to get this CD just to read the liner notes, never mind what the album sounded like! And how had I missed the news that a new Guns album was coming out, anyway?
Because it ain't At the very end of the review, there's a little sidebar box with five "Fast Facts" about the album, the last fact being that the record doesn't exist, only in an alternate universe where the "Fools of April" rule. I'd been had! And I laughed and felt good for the first time in the whole weekend. I actually got the April Fool's joke on the actual April Fool's Day, and I felt good about it.
This week, I got a nice-paying corporate show and a weekend in Utica, NY, my third New York State gig in three weeks, and I'm happy to be home (or close to it) before my big road trip to Tennessee, then no break before I have to go to Minnesota. April should fly by almost as quick as March did, and hopefully with fewer car accidents, speeding tickets, and bitchy club owners.
I know this was a particularly long-winded entry, but thanks for hanging in with me on my emotional roller coaster. Have a good week.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY