It was when I was drenched in rain water, holding wet boxes of shot glasses, and reaching my arm through a chain-link fence to grab hold of a passing plastic bag in the breeze that I realized I might have made a bad decision in life.
No, I wasn’t living out of my car at the time; I was on tour and I was stuck in a bad situation.
Matt Paxton once said “you’re always 5 decisions away from shitting in a bucket.” Well, I don’t know who that is and I might be paraphrasing a bit, but the idea holds true. It’s quite easy to get yourself in a bad situation (or a “bad sitch” as some of the kids-I-just-made-up might say) that’s hard to get out of.
One of the first bad decisions in my life was decided that I wanted to pursue a career in music. This life path can often lead a person down a road of unwanted scenarios, i.e. dealing with a bad credit score or trying to pick up extra cash as a music teacher. Yes, there are times that your life will become enriched with amazing tales that you can brag to your friends about. There are also times when you’ll find yourself in situations where you’ll be wishing and hoping that you won’t be seen by someone you know.
I found myself in a position one time that really had me questioning my decisions in life. It was a time when I found myself ducking under an overpass to stay dry from the rain while holding a deteriorating paper bag filled with shotglasses and newspapers.
It all began when I was playing a gig at the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel in Hollywood, FL. The Hard Rock was this huge facility that not only housed a casino and a hotel but a whole array of shopping centers and restaurants. I was there for an entire week and trying to live a bit frugal because all the restaurants on the premises were quite expensive (and not very good, to be honest). I could drop 20 bucks for a breakfast or I could leave the Hard Rock and venture down the road to find a Dunkin Donuts or a Burger King.
While on this particular tour I was picking up presents for friends back home. If I ran across an LP that I knew someone would like I’d pick it up for them, stash it away for a while, and whenever I ran across a FedEx hub I’d mail it back home. So during my travels I had sent a lot of packages back to my house. Well, at the Hard Rock I ran across some cool leather bound shot glasses, beer steins, and coffee mugs. I had also come across some cool news paper articles that had me in it.
I had all this new stuff and I didn’t want to lug it around in my suitcase. It was time to find a mail place to ship my stash off.
On one of my walks outside of the Hard Rock I ran across a Publix grocery store. Right next to that grocery store was a locally owned Mail Boxes Etc. style place. This place caught my eye one night when I was shopping for a bottle of wine or something at the store. I took a look through the window and saw that this mailing place was fully stocked with boxes and bubble wrap. I checked out the hours and they were indeed open on Saturdays. So I had a plan. I’d wake up Saturday and bring my Hard Rock gifts to have them mailed off.
A little less stuff to carry around with me in my suitcase.
Alright, so it’s Saturday afternoon and I load up all my gifts into a Hard Rock shopping bag. This thing was packed with little boxes containing the glasses and other items I wanted to send back home. As soon as I started taking that one mile walk to the mail place I noticed a little rain drop hitting me. Just a slight indication that it might drizzle a bit. I look up and see that the sky is a little dark but I think, ‘fuck it,’ I’ll get there and back before it starts really pouring.
“I’m not sugar, I won’t melt.”
Right after I clear the parking lot and start to head over the interstate the clouds open up and it starts pouring rain on me. I laugh a little bit because, “just my luck. Of course it starts pouring down when I’m half way there.”
Yeah, I’m halfway into my mile long hike to the post office place and I’m getting soaked. But it’s too far to run back – I’ll get wet anyway. Might as well continue on.
So I keep walking. No need to run because I’m in the wide open. It’s not like I’m going to get less wet. But then I notice that the paper bag containing all my stuff is rapidly deteriorating. I’m talking about this thing is dissolving before my eyes. It’s like the thing is made out of rice paper. The handle completely comes off. The sides give way. Soon, all that’s left is the bottom of the bag. So now all I have are these boxes and my newspapers wrapped in tattered paper bag rags.
As soon as I cross over the interstate I duck under the overpass and try and wait out the rain.
I’m soaked at this point. I stack up my gifts on the concrete and think about what I’m going to do. I sure hope no crazy homeless bum tries to stab me to steal my stuff. It’s just all stacked up in a pile on the dirty concrete.
I need a new bag.
I see that there is a plastic bag being blown in the wind. But this bag is on the other side of a chain-link fence. Fuck, maybe I can catch it when it blows past me. I go over to the fence and stick my hand through, waiting for the bag to blow past me. Lucky for me, I was able to catch it and pull it through the fence. Yay!
The bag is a little small and dirty but I think it’ll do. As I’m stuffing my goodies into this plastic bag I have this realization that this must be what it feels like to be a homeless person. I suddenly feel like a failure in life. Here I am under an overpass, holding a dirty plastic bag, I’m soaking wet, and I have these worldly goods that I’m clinging to as if it’s all I have in the world. I have a god damn college degree for fuck’s sake. I have a BA in Criminal Justice and English. What the hell am I doing, man? Why don’t I just cut my hair and get a real job. I’m under an overpass in the pouring rain trying to stuff boxes and newspapers into a plastic bag that’s way to small to hold them.
At least I could say that, unlike a hobo, I had a wallet on me with cash and credit cards and at any moment I could probably call up a cab. But I’ve never called a cab before. Plus, fuck it, I don’t know anybody in Florida. I’m not gonna see anybody I know.
And then I remembered this time I was at this restaurant with my friends. I’m sitting there eating dinner and this guy at the table next to me leans over and asks, “Jay?”
“Yeah, what’s up,” I answer.
Apparently it was this guy I went to High School with. I guess he recognized my voice or something. He couldn’t wait to brag about where he was at in life. He told me he was going to become a lawyer and blah blah blah, who gives a shit. Oh good, another lawyer. We really need more of those.
My only response to beat him was “I’m a musician, my album just came out, I married a porn star.”
None of which he believed but my friends backed me up. So go take your law degree and stuff it. I hope you failed the bar exam and your wife cheats on you.
But that’s the kind of shit we have to put up with sometimes as musicians. Sure, there are those times when you get that awesome opportunity to play in an arena in front of thousands of people but there are also those times when you’re in the ebb of your flow and you don’t have a lot to brag about. You get back from tour and you have to pick up an extra job as you wait for your next gig. It’s not a stable life. But for me, it’s living. It’s doing things that few other people get a chance to do. I don’t want to be a teacher. I don’t want to work in a cubicle. I don’t want to wear a uniform.
When it comes to questions about my job I want them to consist of things like, “what kind of strings do you use,” and “why do you have 7 strings on your bass?”
As I sat there under that overpass with my dirty bag of Hard Rock Hotel glassware I had to reassure myself. This little hobo experience was just an annoying (and slightly funny) footnote of the day. Because I knew that when I got finished with this little trek that I’d head back to the casino’s arena and put on a stellar show.
Well, the rain slacked up. It was time to head out.
I passed the pawn shops, passed the coin-op laundromats, passed the Dunkin Donuts, and finally got to where the Publix was in sight.
That’s when it started pouring down rain again.
I made a run for the first place that could keep me and my stash of stuff somewhat dry: under the awning of a local bank.
Let me just describe what I looked like at that moment standing outside that bank…because the people that were driving up were taking a look at me and not wanting to get out of their cars.
I had long wet hair. I had facial hair. I was wearing black. I was holding a dirty plastic bag stuffed with newspapers and boxes. And I don’t usually have the most pleasant expression on my face at all times.
I looked a little dangerous.
I looked a little suspect.
It was only a matter of time before someone told me to clear out, that I couldn’t be standing there.
So, again, I just made a break for it. I ran off to the Publix to shimmy along the side of the building, making my way to the local mailing company.
God dammit, this better be worth it. I instinctively checked my back pocket (like I do throughout the day) to make sure my wallet was there.
All good. Just a little further.
Ah, here we are. Finally, the post office place.
I pull on the handle and THE FUCKING THING IS LOCKED!!!!
What the hell, man?
I look down at the hours and it says it right there, they should be open.
Are they at lunch?
I look around to see if there are any signs saying that someone’s gone to lunch and will be back in ten minutes.
Well, I see a sign on the door but it doesn’t say anything about lunch.
It says that the business has closed. As in for good.
What the hell?
The sign read (and in rather small type) that the store was closing down and if anyone had a P.O. Box with them that they should take immediate procedures to forward their mail to a new place.
God dammit all to hell. I didn’t see that sign the previous night.
Well then, what’s the deal with all the junk inside? I can look inside and see that there’s still stuff in there: packing material, boxes, Styrofoam peanuts.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
I was livid at myself.
All that nonsense for nothing?
Alright, well, let’s make the best of this. I’ll go inside Publix, get a better plastic bag then go across the street to Dunkin and get me a nice hot coffee and a chicken salad sandwich on a croissant….YES! I CAN AFFORD IT. I HAVE MONEY. I’M NOT HOMELESS, I JUST LOOK LIKE IT. Don’t give me the stink-eye Dunkin employee – just heat up those hashbrowns in the microwave and make it snappy. I got a gig to get to.
Even on my way back to the hotel it would start/stop with the pouring rain. It rained even harder on my way back, in fact. I had to actually duck under a driveway to some church and stand there with my phone for about thirty minutes trying to see if I could get a cab to come pick me up. But no luck. Why should I call a cab now, anyway?
So, lesson learned here, folks. Next time I had to go to the mail place I called a cab.
Actually, strike that. I didn’t really learn a lesson.
Alright, just quickly, in closing here. The next time I went to mail some stuff off I discovered that the FedEx store was 5 miles away. So I call a cab to bring me to the place. But as we went there I noticed that we passed up a Steak N’ Shake. I also noticed that that five mile drive cost me over 20 bucks. So…uh, fuck that.
The cab driver goes, “you want me to wait for you?”
No, “no thanks, I’ll walk back.” Holy shit, over 20 bucks for five miles? What is this, a shakedown?
Mmmmm, Steak N’ Shake.
So I walked back. I walked back 5 miles…to that yummy ass Steak N’ Shake.
That’s when I decided to buy a skate board.
Another huge mistake.
