From my friend Lee's house in PA to NYC it's about 100 miles. From NYC to Somerville, MA it's just over 200 miles. Even driving at 55 miles per hour and stopping every couple of hours, that's 300 miles and typically takes about 6 hours. "Typically" meaning, when not driving around Philadelphia, through New Jersey and into NYC in pouring rain. "Typically" meaning when on the Interstate driving from somewhere like Buffalo to Columbus, OH.

Anyway, I drove all 300 plus miles on Saturday into Sunday and wore myself out. I had picked up a little something following my stellar show with Beaucoup Blue in Phoenixville at Steel City Coffeehouse. I got decent rest that Friday night, but it all caught up with me on Sunday. Sunday, when I would wake up at 9:30am after finishing the drive at 3am and falling asleep at 4. With a show in Cambridge on Friday night, I spent 2 1/2 hours walking all over town on Sunday putting up fliers. That was the end of my immune system's rope. Today, Monday, I have given my body the break it needs. Now, I just need to rest up for Friday's show.

Saturday was the day, man. Saturday was the crazy driving. It took four hours to get from Lee's house to the venue in NYC; it took another four to drive to Boston that night. It's just so expensive to park in the city overnight and I hate driving in morning traffic, even on Sunday. I was set: I would leave after the gig.

On the way to that gig, the one in NYC, I had a golden moment. All the shit you just read, file it under ramblin'. The reason I'm blogging today is to tell you this story:

After a meal with my friends Lee and Peter, I lit out for the Apple - New York City - for my debut gig at Postcrypt. I had just had a fine show the night before opening for Beaucoup Blue. I was well rested, in good spirits and, thanks to Lee, well fed. It was 4:30pm when I started out. I had 100 miles to drive. If it took even three hours to do this, I would have an hour to chill before my set.

It had been raining all night on Friday. Adrian from Beaucoup Blue had told me that it always rains when they play Steel City. Fuck the Farmer's Almanac; look at their schedule to predict the next storm. That evening's rain continued into Saturday morning. It rained hard the whole time I drove.

That rain did two things in particular that I noticed. Firstly, it brought out the idiots. It really is amazing how so few people make allowances for driving on wet surfaces on dark, dreary days. Secondly, it added significant time to the trip. It took a little over three hours to make it to the Lincoln Tunnel from Lee's driveway. It would take another 48 minutes to get the few miles from the Lincoln Tunnel to the campus of Columbia University, where I would get soaked running from my parked van to the Chapel basement and the Postcrypt stage.

After paying my toll, I proceeded to the tunnel. Traffic cones narrowed the traffic to just a lane or two coming through the toll booths. It was bumper to bumper as we crawled along on our radials. So why the person behind me blew the horn at me in an effort to dart around me was just a little perplexing... and grating. Personally, I don't mind the horn for that friendly honk when you see a friend walking on the sidewalk, but when you share your frustrations with me and everyone around me by leaning on the thing as folks so often do in NYC and Boston, well, go fuck yourself you irritable fuck.

But I digress...

Traffic was inching its way through the tunnel. My set was at 8:30. It was 7:40 or thereabouts. I was thinking I should be fine. When I emerged on the other side of the tunnel, oh, 10-15 minutes later, I was getting a little concerned. Especially since I emerged into an equally messy scene of traffic. Traffic I wouldn't have minded nearly as much had it not just taken 3 hours to travel 100 miles.

It finally came to pass that I could make my left onto 42nd Street. I worked my way into the right hand lane in preparation for the turn I had to make a few blocks up onto 12th Ave. I was the first vehicle in the line at the traffic light at 10th and 42nd.

Gridlock is evil. You don't have to be a fan of the music of Dan Bern to understand this. It's also a traffic violation, but I've yet to see a cop present to hand out the tickets. If you don't know about gridlock, google it. It's evil.

The light changed from red to green meaning in theory that I, the first car at the signal, would get through this intersection no problem. However, four taxis had pulled into the intersection despite the traffic conjestion in front of them creating gridlock. I waited where I was while the clock ticked on my green light and my 8:30 start time got nearer. I waited until there was one taxi left and then I started into the intersection, believing I would be able to make it through.

As the light turned to yellow, something amazing happened. To have happened in such a tight time framework is just... wow.

As that final cab made way and I finally had a clear drive ahead of me, a minivan behind me pulled around on my driver's side cut around in front of me and made a right-hand turn into the congestion that had been blocking up the taxi, thereby T-boning me under the light. Now *I* was the asshole gridlocking the intersection.

As this genius crawled painfully forward, I made, in the continuing rain, an effort to motion around him/her. Now, however, other motorists, realizing they could not continue forward, began to make left-hand turns onto 42nd Street keeping me under the night. I refused to blow the horn, but I did begin to consider owning a revolver.

I was sweating the time a little more by the time I got to 12th Av to make my right hand turn. My ethic is a preference to be at any gig 2 hours early rather than even 1 minute late. The gig would ultimately prove to be pretty chill but I was not in the frame of mind to consider it at this point in the drive.

Off of 12th, I was to make a left onto Broadway and then drive 20 or so blocks to 116th where I'd park at a meter in front of Columbia University. There were two cars in front of me also making lefts. As the second auto turned left, the light turned yellow and I hit the brakes. The nose of my van was in the crosswalk. I was not happy about that.

Pedestrians began to cross, almost all of them huddled under umbrellas. An Asian woman crossing from my passenger side nearly walked into the nose of my van. She stopped just short, side-stepped to her right and continued to cross the street. As she did so, she stopped in the center of my view - about the place where a hood ornament would be - and turned to me. She turned, made eye contact and smiled.

It was at this precise moment that I realized "Everything's gonna be just fine."

~ gK ~