A Tedious Brief Scene of Tragical Mirth

Joe texted out of the blue on Tuesday and asked if I wanted to go to the John Prine's Birthday open mic at the Wild Goose. Hell yes says I, and we agreed to meet at his place. 

I know how much Sequoia misses playing music and hey, John Prine, so I told him about it and he said he wanted to come. I suggested we play Oughta Name a Drink After You and Chain of Sorrow. We've been playing those songs for decades and I figured we couldn’t fuck up too bad. Plus, I was sure someone else would play Fish & Whistle before we got a chance.

I dropped in at Joe's and we chatted for a bit then went to the Goose. The place was packed. There was no place to sit and the opening act played for more than an hour so Joe bailed.  I might have bailed too but Sequoia wanted to play, so we waited it out. 

As we were standing by the back door waiting to go on, a guy walked in who looked vaguely familiar, but I didn't give it much thought.

Finally we went up. I played the accordion and sang harmony which always charms people. It wasn’t our best outing ever, but it was at the Goose on a Tuesday night, people were drunk, who cares?  

I do, but that's another story.

We got a big ovation and people told us we were great, etc. I perform often enough now to take those kinds of compliments with a grain of salt. Mostly people are charmed by the accordion, not the music. By then it was past Sequoia’s bedtime and he left right after we played, but I decided to hang out.

The guy who looked vaguely familiar started chatting with me, told me we were terrific, we should do a few more songs, etc. I was gracious but skeptical. He said he loves accordions and mentioned he plays banjo. We both told banjo player jokes and talked shop a bit. I thought he must be a local musician and finally said, "You look so familiar to me, are you in a band?" He said, "Yeah, I play in a band called Devil Makes Three. We played here once many years ago."

I was standing in the fucking Wild Goose on a Tuesday night chatting up Pete Bernhardt.

I kept my cool, told him I'd missed them at Wild Goose but had seen them at Stillwater just up the street. He remembered that show and asked what happened to the people who ran that place. We talked about how Maria Kelly had been dumped by JPR. It was all very casual and relaxed. He went to stand in line at the bar. I hung out hoping he would come back, but his friends had gotten a booth and he sat down with them.

At that point I got inside my head, like I do. I was too intimidated to insert myself into their group and was overwhelmed by the whole scene. I looked in my car for a Bathtub Gin Serenaders CD to give him, but didn't have one so, coward that I am, I left. I know, I know, golden opportunity squandered; story of my life.

It was like something out of a fantasy, or maybe a nightmare.  If it had been a fantasy, I would have scripted a different ending.  The moral of the story is, I care far too much about what people think. It is my tragic flaw.