Musician's Widow

"Drive Dunk, Get Nailed" cars are popping up around Nashville...

This week has been one for the record books for me. Simply due to how “different” it really was from beginning to end.

Many probably don’t know that I work at a hot dog stand in a bar in downtown Nashville for extra money. It’s a fun job and I get to listen to amazing live music, have a drink if I want one, and meet all kinds of interesting people. Not a bad day at work!

However, the week was kicked off with a strange Sunday in which the downtown in general was just dead. Not even Broadway could boast much of a “crowd.” And adding to the strange quiet of downtown, our full band didn’t start until midnight! Ultimately, I think those of us working agreed that we should have just closed early and cut our losses. Surely Monday would be better.

Monday, however, simply upped the strange factor.

A torrential downpour left my husband and I doing 20 mph on the Interstate as debris from trees swirled through the air, and our ability to see ahead of us was diminished down to a few feet. Once the storm cleared and we were able to go again at a normal pace, a woman in an SUV pulled out in front of us. She merged onto the Interstate, crossed two lanes into our lane, doing maybe 40 while we were going 70. It was physically impossible for us to slow fast enough to not rear end her, and I’m still thankful the next lane over was empty and we could swerve around her. Its not the first time that’s happened on a Nashville interstate to us (apparently checking to see if a lane is clear is not necessary, and turn signals don’t come standard on vehicles here) but it never ceases to leave my heart pounding wildly.

That evening’s highlight was getting to have dinner with my husband at his lodge meeting before going to work. THAT was a treat. Work, however, was simply bizarre again. Downtown was once again pretty much dead, but the city’s homeless were moving around a lot.

The night ended with a homeless woman rushing into the bar demanding that I call 9-1-1, because “he’s laying on the steps bleeding! He’s all beat up!” The woman said she and this man had only been in Nashville three days. However, she could not tell us who or where “he” was. My husband went with her to look, but came up with no one.

About half an hour later, the lady came back hysterical again to call 9-1-1. This time, my husband and the lead singer of our night’s entertainment went with her together to hunt for her friend. They did find the man this time, looking like he’d been beaten up and passed out in an alley.  My husband called for help, and soon three police cars, firetrucks and an ambulance appeared to help the man. I do hope the man and woman are all right, but I also hope to not go through that scavenger hunt again any time soon.

Things looked up come Tuesday. My husband sold a piece of gear and a roadcase he’d been trying to sell for awhile. I got the oil changed in my truck for a better price than I had anticipated it costing. And we arrived downtown for my husband to play the late shift to discover a music video being filmed outside the bar. The bonus was that I got asked to be an extra in the video! Definitely not your typical night out! Everyone has their list of things they want to do someday. A deep secret dream of mine has been to be in a music video. Now I can say I have!

Wednesday was gloriously normal. Thursday, I flew to Texas for a visit with my family. My husband jumped in a tour bus and headed north to Iowa and Wisconsin. Definitely a case of our going opposite directions! Not the first time. Nor will it be the last. (I can’t leave out that Thursday was also the day that Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson both passed away, leaving the news world spinning as well.)

Now, I’ve lived in Nashville just shy of three years, and in that time my ability to handle cold weather has gotten better, and my ability to handle hot weather has diminished. So not only was my Friday swim date with my nephew and niece a priceless period of time with my two favorite kids in this world, but it was a nice reprieve from the 100+ temps!

To round out the week came Saturday. I had tickets, thanks to a friend, to see a Texas artist do a show in Waco. However, I was not aware it was an outdoor show until the night before. My parents and I went, but ended up not staying. The heat was just too much for all of us. (I suppose on my part, it also doesn’t help that I’ve admittedly gotten a bit spoiled to having a cool tour bus to hide out in at outdoor shows when I go see my husband play a show!) The inside of the club was reserved for VIP ticket holders, and with General Admission tickets we couldn’t go inside. So without reprieve from the heat, we left not long after the music had started.

Strange for me to not stay for a concert! But this year’s summer in Texas is setting record highs… and I suppose that in and of itself tops out a very different week for me. One for the books.

Or atleast for this blog.

I have a fairly staunch rule I set into place years ago.

I don’t let random men buy me drinks in bars. I know, many just gasped in horror, but its my rule and its served me well for many years and avoided many misunderstandings.

The other night, I was at a bar in downtown Nashville, visiting with friends and watching my husband play, when a guy decided to buy me and another friend of mine a drink. Under the impression (based on the conversation, etc.) that he knew my friend, I broke my rule and went along with it in the spirit of socializing with my friends.

I felt the need to walk away, though, when he would not take me seriously when I stated that my dream in life is to be a writer and that that is indeed what I have chosen as my career. Writing apparently was not a good enough for him and he kept pestering me for a different answer, and it was on that note that I walked away. I simply walked away and visited elsewhere until he left.

It was after this that I learned that he had been making a pill of himself with ALL the ladies in the bar and he was not, in fact, an acquaintance of my friend as I had believed. If he felt himself a “player,” he’d failed miserably.

Strike one: being a pill to all. Strike two: misrepresentation. Strike three: not taking me seriously.

It is cases like this that interactions both socially and professionally can be quite the minefield. You never know when someone is going to be legitimate. And it is within this uncertainty that I made my own three strikes in my discussion with this person.

1 – They make the first move, but reveal nothing about themselves.
In my interaction with this guy, I realized he told me nothing about himself, and I told him random facts about me. I was cagey, yes, but he learned I am married, work part-time at the bar, went to Texas A&M and that my passion is writing. None of this is exactly a secret, but its still more than I learned about him. I never asked, I admit. I didn’t want to know, and I hoped my disinterest in him would make it clear he needed to leave me alone. When it didn’t, I chose to walk away. But it is within this that I realized that I knew nothing about this guy. Nothing except that I didn’t trust him…

2 – Making an assumption.
No one told me this guy was an acquaintance of my friend. I drew that conclusion based on the fact that he was talking with my friend in close proximity, bought her a drink as well, and that they knew where one another was originally from. With those facts in hand, I made an assumption.

As my Dad reminds me regularly. Never assume. It makes an ass out of you and me. Call this a lesson proven true.

3 – Breaking my own rules.
When you have those personal rules, you stick with them. Go with your gut. Even if its not the most “cool” thing to do. Your instincts are there for a reason. Listen to them. I didn’t and I broke my rule of “no strange guy buying me a drink.” My very own strike three.

This whole thing is in the past and thus not worth my time to think about… however, its also a lesson to myself that I learned and will heed in the future.

I never say it enough. I love my city.

I grew up a small town girl. 3A high school graduate. Living in the country until college. And even then, I went to college in… what you’d pretty much STILL call a small town in a way. (A small city, perhaps?) Believing myself to be that small town kid for life, I was surprised how the pull of the city tugged at me. I knew for YEARS I’d end up in Nashville eventually. I just figured it would be via Dallas, Texas, first. But, instead I skipped the middle step and went from small town to “big city.”

Here is the craziest thing of it all, though. I have more friends here than I ever did “back home.” Sure, my closest friends — the ones dearest to my heart and that I confide in most — come from years of experiences in our small town(s). But the sheer number of people I know now boggles my mind some times. And I am constantly making new friends and acquaintances.

A step beyond that, I’ve found I love to keep my finger on the pulse of the city. No, I don’t know everything that is happening. But I like to have a general idea of things that are happening. Simply because I love my city!

It’s so funny how… I will always feel Small Town Texas to be my home, but I have this love for Nashville. I think the skyline is beautiful. I love the general vibe it has. This has become home now, and… it makes me happy. It’s where I belong now.

With my husband currently not on the road — still shopping for a new artist gig — he’s working harder than ever, grabbing gigs in downtown Nashville in the bars and clubs along Broadway and in Printer’s Alley.

The best part of it all is that he’s home at the end of the night every night. I get to see and spend time with him every day of the week, and for that I do feel very grateful. I am accustomed to the “widow” life of seeing my husband leave for days or weeks on the road, and I know that as soon as he gets a new gig we’ll fall right back into that pace of life. So I am savoring this time together with more fervor than anyone knows, because it could change tomorrow.

The worst part of it, is that he’s working over twice as hard for less pay. We’re having to “tighten up the boot straps” quite a bit, and it’s exhausting going six nights a week. But in that same vein, and I grateful for there being work to do. Many people are getting laid off in their industries, and at least he (we) still has work to do. I give myself that reality check almost daily. Reminding myself that even when I’m tired and want a vacation, I need to instead of grateful to have work and to still be able to pay the bills.

Somewhere in the middle of it all has to be “people.” It’s frustrating to see people (ie the crowd) treat his speakers and keyboard cases like their chairs or drink holders. There is no regard for personal property — for the tools needed for him to do his job. At times I want to ask people if they’d like for me to set my beer on their laptops or blackberrys. If I can perch upon their copy machines. They’d probably be appalled, but in a round about way its the same idea.

In a similar vein, I came in with a group of friends to watch my husband play last night. Slowly, one by one, they meandered off to head home, tired from their work days. Soon, there was only me at the table…

But that never lasted long, as one by one I got hit on by men. It was flattering, yes. (Where were all these men when I was single??) But slowly it grew annoying.

Can a woman not sit at a table alone in a bar and not be needing male company? All were very polite and respectful once I explained the my husband was in the band, and that I was there to see him play. But at the same time, it made me want to find a shirt that said, “Married and with the band. Don’t bother. Save your breath and creativity to find the right line.” I amuse myself some times.

In every business, you deal with the good, the bad and the… frustrating. And every day you go back to your job knowing you’ll have to deal with it all over again. Tonight, my husband will haul his gear back into yet another bar and see his equipment get “disrespected.” I’ll go along, helping to move gear and enjoy a night of good music and people watching… and probably at some point try to politely get someone (male, female, sometimes a whole group of friends there to party) to understand why I am there and that, no, I do not need to be taken care of because I am alone.

My husband does it for his love of music, as well as to pay the bills. I come along for both my own love of music, but mostly for my love and support of my husband. It’s a hat I wear (along with “writer, designer, daughter, sister, friend, etc.)… and it’s the one I am most proud to wear.