Monday, January 19, 2015
Playing in the Band (Part 1)
We walked through the restaurant and took three seats at the bar, and the bartender set us up with tall glasses of ice water with lemon. We'd played here before, and it was a nice little neighborhood restaurant, and a good place to play. It was also gratifying to see some familiar faces - people who'd seen us here before and had come back to see us.
The singer wandered off to talk to someone, and a waitress came behind the bar and started a conversation with the guitar player and me.
"You guys sound great."
We thanked her.
She complimented us up and down, and of course who doesn't like having their ego stroked? She told us that she was learning to play guitar, and we encouraged her to do it.
I looked her up and down. Too young. Too thin...almost scrawny. Even in her standard-issue waitress uniform of black skirt and short-sleeve white blouse, there was a little bit of a rough edge to her, and she had tattoos from shoulder to elbow. But she was sweet as could be and wanted to talk about playing music.
She told us about her guitar - she'd bought it at a pawnshop for $25. I suppressed a smile and turned to my band-mate. "Yours cost a little more than that." I knew it probably cost 100 times that. He laughed and shook his head and said he'd better get back and tune up for the second set.
She ran off to look after one of her tables, and then came back as I was getting ready to go back and get ready to play. She asked what songs we'd be playing, and I told her with a wink that she'd have to listen and find out. She called me a bastard, and we both laughed.
She paused, then asked me how long the second set would be? I told her, around 45 minutes.
"As soon as your set is over, come and see me. Go down the stairs. The bathrooms are on the left. There's a supply closet on the right." She paused. "If you want to."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and went back to work.