It was another quiet day, so I spent most of it on the phone to California, which is a nice place but I cannot afford to live there. Neither can most of the people that do. You’ve never seen a place that runs totally on credit till you’ve seen Stockton, Anaheim, Cathedral City and the entire area around Wilshire Blvd.
The Pentium computer is causing me headaches. It booted once Fred used a system format on the hard drive, but now the flat screen stays too dark and it is stuck in low-res. I worked on it for a few hours, we need that unit. It has a turbo switch so we are talking technology from the twentieth century. It can be set to 700 MHz, better than what is now in service, so it must be made to work.Dickens called from the Keys over some prices I needed and told about something I could not have imagined. He was at the beach and the place was full of people getting married. Apparently the date 07/07/07 is perceived as lucky. I know, dang it, that means go buy a lottery ticket, not get hitched. I think that the nearby shoreline was not the shallowest thing in the vicinity. It does seem that a lot of people’s chances of success at marriage are determined by such factors, so I wonder how the couples who married on 06/06/06 are doing?
That’s my venue, the Show-Off pub. Way out on Johnson and 441, except hard to find. Myself, I would not paint a pub pink even if it is full of older married couples. This is the place recommended by Jimbo’s and I’ve hit a small gold mine. My traditional average of one dollar per patron per hour was handily bested in this tiny bar. The show was an overwhelming success, although as usual, only the wives were dancing while the husbands played pool.
My tactic of focusing the tipping onto the servers paid off big time, as they kicked in $10 each for me after closing time. My guess is I tripled their take, making me instantly popular. I was also shocked at the number of five-dollar bills in the bucket, as I was expecting just a few [the average person tipped me five and yes, that surprised me]. I can hear my west coast people saying they knew that I would eventually get right back to music. Yeah, okay, I did, and, if this keeps up, I’ll soon be banking money.
I’m invited back next Saturday evening and the following Saturday afternoon when the place is reportedly packed. It was two-thirds empty tonight. Furthermore, my reputation preceded me and the bar owner knows that she has connected. People were staying longer and spending more. The owner is a spry blonde lady whose eyes are that “makes you stare” blue. Like mine.
Things can still go wrong, but I will be laughing if I get the afternoon gig as a steady. No competition and it is so nice to tank up the car (I usually stop at $30), buy the best cuts (meat is expensive in Florida, but the quality is very high) and still have a pocketful of strays to shoot on anything I want. While not quite next door, the pub is close enough to not interfere with any Blue Crows gigs. I’ve made it clear to the gang that I don’t go on the road. And I’ve now got a solid backup plan if the Crows don’t fly, laugh here, that is humor, get it, “fly”.
Analysis. I used up all my material. I play slightly under twenty tunes per hour, so I need another entire set, then yet another for variation. That means 100 tunes total but give me two weeks. The challenge is to find the correct mix of music for my paying public, but I seem to have met with the bulls-eye so far. Even my weaker material went over because my old set list is astonishingly eclectic. Not many single-man acts play the Pointer Sisters and the Dixie Chicks. I now know that I can carry a full evening, so watch out, I have some ideas I’ve never used. Should I find out I can pack a pub during their usual off hours, double watch out.
I was on stage a total of five hours, just able to get by with a minimum of repeats. I dislike that ploy because it does not work on the staff. The bad news is that around midnight, I began to get a leg cramp. This is entirely my own fault, as I know I have to keep limber riding my bicycle, and I’ve been using the Taurus to haul my equipment. Within a few minutes, it developed into the worst cramp I’ve ever had, not only hurt but not going away. I had to hobble off the stage and get a bar stool and play the last two sets back to back. The show must go on.
What? Okay, the details. Left leg, smack in the fleshy part of the shin. It abated by closing time but if it had been my right leg, I could not have driven home. I had a heck of a time loading my equipment. Plus, I had to leave my gear in the car overnight when I got back, something I’m usually cautious about. My consolation is that tomorrow, I’m going out for a big breakfast on Florida.
ADDENDUM
[Author's note 2016: I was to find out later this cramp was the precursor of several conditions experienced by people who have had an early heart attack. Still, it was big news to my life on this day in history, and that makes it bloggable.]
Interesting TV statistic. How many “millionaires” are there in the USA? Myself, I balk at the figure because the term was not defined. What do you expect from TV-brains? They probably included those people whose net worth exceeds that figure, but strictly speaking that does not make one a millionaire. You could have a million dollar house and no money for food. The true definition of a millionaire is a person whose non-earned income annually exceeds $400,000. Thus a doctor who earned $401,000 per year is not a millionaire, because he worked for it. However, if he invested wisely and made the same amount from that source, he qualifies. Okay, the TV said there are nine million millionaires. I doubt it, but there you go.
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