Part of me had hoped that the
government shutdown might at least make it so there'd be no traffic
getting through DC. That part of me was wrong. Very very wrong. Late
again to the first show of the tour! Thanks, Obama...
But the show ended up being pretty fun. Jamie came out, as did a
bunch of the owner's friends. It turns out they all work for the
federal government and were furloughed. This shouldn't surprise me,
as my life is a swirling vortex of coincidence. Here's Pen Pen and
one of my good friends' CDs just happening to be on the TV of the
collective I stayed at, despite him having never been there,
coincidentally.
Wednesday,
I made good time at first through the Blue Ridge Mountains. I didn't
need to be at Acoustic Coffee until 7pm, really. I had tons of time!
So I pulled off the highway following the siren song of signs for a
national park. Part of me (the part that was driving) wasn't thinking
at all about anything in the previous paragraph that might lead me to
believe this was a pointless endeavor. It was a pointless endeavor.
This is Pen Pen and futility.
I'd
burned an hour in pursuit of happiness, but still: TONS OF TIME! The
federal government may be shutdown, there may be a battle over
whether having access to healthcare and thus remaining alive is a
right or a privilege, but at least I'll get to see my friends in
Johnson City! I took a detour through the Blue Ridge Highway.
Stopping in the unfortunately named town of Vesuvius, I walked into a
Gertie's Country Store. Unsurprisingly, the conversation hovered
around the Government Shutdown. “Someone ought to start a
revolution!” The woman I presume was Gertie said. “Funny thing
about that...” I said. She gave me her contact info and told me to
let her know when we march on Washington. She said she didn't care if
it was right or left, she'd be there. My kind of person. This is Pen
Pen and the preposterous beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
But
then: traffic. (Thanks again, Obama...I'm
not sure how this one is your fault. But Ted Cruz knows...) 2 hours
of not moving. Finally liberated from the traffic, I made it to the
Coffeehouse 45 minutes late, and more than a little cranky. But as is
often the case, the general air of comeradery and warmth of Johnson
City made it impossible to be cranky for too long. The band after
me, There Is No Mountain
were incredibly nice, and it turns out lived in Boston for a while. I
tire of coincidences. (No I don't.) Then, halfway through my set:
Karla. In the middle of a song I looked out the window to see a tuft
of bobbing blond curls and a mandolin case walking up. She walked
right on stage and jumped in the middle of the stage. Sheer musical
joy. There could have been 10 people or 10,000 people watching at
that point. I really didn't care. We stayed up late catching up.
While I told her about Marisa “Black Bird” came on. Because
obviously the first song I played for her when we were 14 would haunt
me thus. I'll never tire of coincidences. This is Pen Pen hopping a
train out of Johnson City, but anxious to come back.
