Friday, January 30, 9pm
Texas Hall of Fame
Bryan, TX
With Reckless Kelly

Saturday, January 31, 9pm
Floore's Country Store
Helotes, TX
With Stoney Larue

Sunday, February 1, 1pm
Luckenbach Dance Hall
Luckenbach, TX
Song swap with Walt Wilkins

Jason Eady on iLike - Add iLike to your MySpace

I had a surreal moment yesterday.  I was coming off of a 10 day run and had to return a rental car to the DFW airport.  When I got to the drop off point the guy that was checking in the cars told me that there was a mistake on my account and that I needed to go to the counter downstairs and have it corrected.  I guess that for some reason they weren't able to credit the security deposit back to my account upstairs.  So I made my way downstairs and when I rounded the corner I saw a line of about 30 people waiting for cars at the same counter that I needed to get to.  So now I had a choice to make... I could wait in line for what would probably be an hour or two or I could decide that I didn't need the $300 as much as I thought I did.  Well, it turns out that I did need the money but I didn't feel like waiting in line so I decided to do something that I haven't done since I was in 3rd grade - I cut!  I walked straight to the front of the line because my rationale was that this was something that was the company's fault, not mine, and I shouldn't have to suffer for their mistake.  So I reverted back to my 3rd grade frame of mind (which was actually much easier to do than I thought) and made my way up to the front like it was no big deal.  When I got there I noticed that while all of those people were in line there was no one at any of the counters.  I walked up and told the clerk, who was standing at a counter talking about football to another clerk, that I needed to get my deposit back.  I was fully prepared for my "I shouldn't have to suffer" speech but instead they stopped their conversation and immediately helped me.  Maybe my elementary school charm had paid off.  They took me over to the counter that was nearest to the front of the line.  While the clerk was helping me he stopped to make an announcement.

"I just talked to the guys upstairs and they said that they are cleaning the cars and turning them around as soon as they come in." 

I realized that because of Hurricane Ike everyone needed cars and there weren't enough to go around.  All of these people had their reservations in their hands so it was obvious that they felt a little cheated.

One of the people asked "But what about our reservations?"

The clerk said "Well, a lot of people are extending their rentals by phone and some people are just late turning in the cars."

I immediately thought of the Seinfeld show about this exact problem... "You know how to TAKE the reservation, you just don't know how to HOLD the reservation." 

Actually, I completely sympathized with these people.  The company should never make reservations if it can't guarantee a car, but these people were ready to take it out on this poor clerk.  They were yelling at him like he could possibly do anything about it.  I'm sure he wanted to help them and I'm sure he felt bad for them but short of shitting a new car there wasn't much he could do.

Then it started...

I heard a rustle in the line and then the rustle became whispers which turned into audible tones until finally the one loud guy who doesn't take shit off of anybody (you know the guy) decided to speak up...

"Who is this guy?  How did he get to the front of the line?  Was he in front of you?"

"He wasn't in front of me" said the loud lady who doesn't take shit off of anybody as long as there is someone there to not take shit first.

Then it spread like wildfire.  Now no one was taking shit from anybody.

I realized what was going on and I reluctantly turned around to face the mob.  It was horrifying.  I felt like the one guy in the zombie movies who hasn't turned into a zombie yet.  They were coming at me with blank faces, groans and torches (in black and white).  I was seriously ready to run.  I thought maybe the clerk would speak up and tell them what I was doing but he looked more scared than I was.  That would be two strikes against him.  He kept his head down.

Then I heard the voice of an angel.  It turns out my wife, who had come to pick me up at the airport, had walked in and was standing behind me without me even knowing it.  She told them that I was returning a car and that they should be glad that I was there because that meant that one of them would get a car quicker. 

The voice of reason is a sweet song. 

This was the funniest part because the mob didn't want to be rational.  You could tell that they really had a hard time letting go of the thought that they were going to have someone to burn at the stake. 

After she said this the clerk said "Yeah, that's right."  (Thanks)

We settled up as quickly as we could and turned around to leave (the crowd murmur had still not settled completely).

As we were leaving the clerk said "Ma'am, you don't have to explain yourselves to them."  

Wow.  We nodded but didn't turn back around. 

I hope he made it.

Last night my wife and I went to do our civic duty.  After voting earlier in the day we went back for the Texas caucus process at night (that's right… we got to vote for the same candidate twice).  I expected to walk in, sit in a room with 50 or so other people, stand on one side of the room to show my support for one candidate or the other, be counted and then leave.  I was wrong.  After driving half a mile away from the voting center just to find a place to park, we walked the half mile back and arrived at 7:15 (the time we were supposed to start).  When we walked up all we could see were people waiting outside – hundreds of them.   We walked up to what looked like a line of people and asked "is this the line for the caucus?"  The answer was "I guess so".  So we stayed in line.  Then some people walked up and asked us "is this the line for the caucus?" and we answered "I guess so."  And on it went.  We could have all been standing in line for the vending machine and nobody would have known.  After standing still for another ten minutes someone came out to tell us that because of the unexpectedly high turnout they were looking for other areas to hold the caucuses.  This was all taking place at a local high school and we were all supposed to fit in the theater.  It didn't look like that was going to happen.  We remained in line and became close personal friends with the people around us.  One couple had just moved in from LA.  Another man had just finished law school.  One family ordered pizza and was eating it in front of the rest of us who thought we would be home eating dinner by this point.  Finally a man came out and said that we would be splitting off into other areas in groups based on our precincts.  We were supposed to stay in line and there would be a "splitting off point".  This went exactly the way you would imagine it would go.  The line completely disintegrated and reformed in pieces at the new rendezvous points – which we all discovered by walking up to any gathered group of people and asking if this was the line.  Again, where we stood was all based on trust of the person standing in front of you.   We stood in this line for another fifteen minutes and got to know a brand new group of people.  We all complained to each other about various political issues but of course we all agreed with each other – that's why we were there after all.  Oddly enough no one was complaining about this event.

After solving all of the problems of the US political system in five minutes we started to move.  We were led through a winding hallway and past another precinct that had assembled in the cafeteria. It felt like the first day of school when you see new faces, some already know each other, and everyone is trying to act cool but secretly has no clue what is going on.  Finally we found ourselves in the gymnasium.  The bleachers filled up quickly and people were sitting on the floor and standing against the wall.  Finally the poor guy whose job it was to lead our little group started to talk.  It took a while for the crowd to quiet down enough to hear him and he turned out to be a pretty funny guy.  He first read from the election commission's formal instructions, which of course read like a tax form, and then he explained the process using normal words.  There were two tables set up – one for each candidate.  We were to take our voter registration cards, line up at the table of the candidate we were supporting, and when we got to the table we would sign in.  That was it.  Simple enough.  But of course then came the questions from the audience.  It's funny how in every group setting since first grade there have always been these people.  The ones that have an urgent and rare exception that they must get cleared up right then and in front of everyone.  "What if I left my voter registration card at home?", "What if they misspelled my name on my card?", "What if my mom forgot to buy number two lead pencils?"  Thankfully, our heroic leader immediately stepped in and told them that there would be a separate table set up for anyone who had questions or issues.  Genius! Maybe this guy should be president.   

Then came the best part.  He called for the elderly to line up first.  Believe me, I love elderly people.  I hope to be one someday.  But they are not the fastest lot.  They made their way up to the lines and I swear I saw a few of them start to shove each other.  These people were serious.  Just as I thought we were about to see some real fireworks a low rumbling sound started to make its way through the arena.  I looked around and noticed that the inevitable chaos had begun.  Political rebels from every region of the room led the charge and everyone started forming the lines without the permission of the leader.  It wasn't quite UC-Berkley in 1968 but I guess it will have to do.  We decided to join in the rebellion and made our way over to the line that had already started to form behind our candidate's table.  I was convinced that we would be in that line for hours because the deal was that you had to go up to the table, show your voter id, and sign your name and address on a piece of paper endorsing your candidate.  It turned out that things moved much quicker than I thought they would.  The leader of the room (he was still there and had not been taken hostage) decided to bring in extra tables and volunteers so that they could sign in five voters at a time instead of just one.  I started to wonder if there was a place to write in a candidate.  We moved quickly (glancing over every minute or two to size up the other person's line), signed in and left.  The ending was a little anticlimactic for an event that had such an audacious beginning.  We walked the half mile back to our car and drove home.

Through all of this I made a few observations: 

This was democracy in its purest form.  Sure our electoral system has its flaws like any other complex system but on this night in this room it was all about the people.  This was as basic as it gets.  That was pretty cool to watch.

When people are truly passionate about something they will tolerate much more than they would normally.  With all of the confusion and chaos surrounding the night I never heard anyone complain about the situation.  There were complaints about other unrelated things but no one complained about the lines or having to wait or the overall confusion.  Everyone's spirits were high and that's what made the night tolerable – even fun. 

Everyone there realized what a historic time this is for American politics.  Regardless of what your position is there is no denying the fact that this will be an election that will be remembered for a long time.  I would imagine my grandchildren will read about it.  I think everyone realized that and was ecstatic about the fact that we got to be a part of it.

In late January I set out on a twenty-five day tour sponsored by American Songwriter Magazine –hence the name.  I wasn't quite sure what to expect given that 1) I've been playing with the band for the last two years and haven't played most of these songs solo acoustic in a long time – some of them never – and 2) I didn't know any of the people I was going on tour with.  I knew their music but not them personally.  The others were Stephen Simmons and Adam & Shannon Wright (The Wrights) – all from Nashville.  Stephen and I decided to ride together in a rented car which could have been a horrible mistake if we did not get along. 

So on January 28 I picked up the rental car and drove to Nashville.  I met everybody for the first time at our show at The Mercy Lounge.  We exchanged the usual first meeting pleasantries and then I took the stage first since I was the one from out of town.  After I was finished I tried to stay around for everyone's set but I really started to feel like I couldn't stand up anymore.  I figured I was still pretty tired from the drive so I left the show early and turned in for the night.  The next morning I felt like I was dying.  I drove the car to Stephen's house and within tens of minutes we were on our way.  The further we got the worse I felt.  When we finally got to Knoxville I couldn't take it anymore.  I broke down and went to a doctor.  Within minutes of my arrival the doctor told me that I had the flu and that I needed to stay home from work and to stay in bed for the next few days.  I told him that wasn't possible and asked if there was some magic shot he could give me to just make it go away.  There wasn't.  I had to do something I have never done before.  I had to cancel my part of the show.  I went straight to the hotel room in Knoxville and slept for thirteen straight hours.  The next day wasn't any better and by now I could see the terror in Stephen's eyes as we drove down the highway because we both knew that it was inevitable that he was going to eventually catch what I had.  That night I missed the next show in Atlanta – two in a row. 

Sure enough the next morning Stephen and Adam were both sick.  I had managed to give three fourths of our tour the flu.  I'm not quite sure what they thought of me at this point.  We had never met, we had been on the road for three days and I had virtually disappeared, and now I had gotten them all sick.  So that was the beginning of what Adam termed "Lalafluenza".  For the next week we all struggled through shows throughout South Carolina.  We would play the show and then all meet up at the CVS to discuss who had anything remaining on their Tamiflu prescription and comparing the benefits of different pain relievers and sleep aids.  Not quite the rock star life I had once imagined.   After the first weekend we had three days off.  Our next show would be in Winston-Salem so we drove straight there, each got our own room and basically hibernated for the next three days.  That did the trick and pretty much ends the saga of the flu.  Now the tour was ready to begin.  Here's how it went from there:

We emerged from the depths for our show in Winston-Salem and all seemed to start singing and playing for real again.  In Greenville, SC and Raleigh, NC we played to our lightest crowds of the tour.  I'm not quite sure what happened in Raleigh.  We have all had great turnouts there before.  Maybe there's something about February.  Or maybe word of our flu train got their before we did.

Our DC show was great.  Great room, great crowd, great food.  My only disappointment in DC was that the Library of Congress closes on Sundays.  I was really looking forward to that - but what can you do?  I guess nobody called ahead to tell them I was coming. 

On to Baltimore.  We played at a cool little record shop downtown.  There's not enough of those left anymore.  Completely unplugged and intimate.  We even got a nice little serenade of our own after the show.  We left Baltimore and started making our way down the ten hour drive we had in front of us to get to our next show.  **Important thing to know:  Gas stations in Maryland are all at least three miles off of the interstate, close sometime after midnight, and leave all of the lights on so you think they are open but find out otherwise when the pumps don't work and the doors are locked.**  After turning off the heat (in 18 degree weather), cursing the Maryland fuel industry and praying for forgiveness for whatever wrong we had committed that was going to leave us stranded in the middle of the "Old Line State" we finally found one station that had intentionally or unintentionally left their pumps on.  We all celebrated by huddling in the car and turning the heat back on. 

The next day we finished the drive through the Appalachian mountains, across Ohio, and ended up in Cincinnati just as a snow and ice storm was approaching.  We barely beat it, checked into the room, and stayed in the room the entire next day because the roads were too icy to go anywhere.  I spent the day watching in amazement as our illustrious congress used our nation's leadership's time and energy to fight what is obviously our most important fight in this otherwise peaceful and perfect world that we live in – steroids in baseball. 

The next four days took us through shows in Cincinnati, St Louis, Omaha, and Kansas City.  All great venues.  We never saw temperatures above 30 degrees the entire time we were in the Midwest.  During all of this time we were finally all getting to know each other much better.  I was finally able to settle into the fact that I had gotten extremely lucky.  Not only were they all great songwriters – and I mean that – but they are all wonderful people.  Sometimes when you are getting to know people you slowly start to see chinks in their armor as the shields come down.  This seemed to be exactly the reverse.  The more I got to know them the more I liked and respected them.  That's pretty uncommon.

Now we were on to Texas.  Home sweet home.  Houston, Austin, New Braunfels, Dallas, and Fort Worth.  We traded our overcoats for t-shirts, thawed out, and drove around the Lone Star State with our windows down.  By this time we were doing our shows in a round, as opposed to the one person at a time thing we started out doing.  I personally like this approach much better.  I always like the energy of a good round.  "Good" being the key word there.  A bad round can be hell.  We learned each other's songs and played like it was our last week together.  I really had a blast. 

On Sunday we woke up in Fort Worth and said our goodbyes as we all headed back to reality.  The day to day can sometimes take over and make me forget why I started doing this in the first place.  To connect.  To connect with listeners, other musicians, and with the songs themselves.  I was reminded.