I had an interesting issue come up the other day out here.  I put new strings on my guitar and was tuning it up to record when my high E string broke.  No problem I thought, I'll just grab a new pack of strings from my bag..... except that I didn't have any left.  I had just used the last set.

In a state of panic (because in the studio, time is money) Jason and I set Aaron to working on vocals with Sam and hopped in the car to go grab a new set of strings from a store around the corner.  Sam warned us that the guy there was a little off.... but how hard could it be to buy a pack of strings?

10 Minutes later we were at the store.  Upon walking in, three things immediatly struck me: 1) this place has not been cleaned/organized in about 30 years 2) those are some incredibly old guitars on the wall and 3) if that guy who hasn't showered or shaved in a week with the white t-shirt and suspenders on is the owner, I'm getting out of here.  He smelled like cabbage and walked with an odd gait.  The owner soon greeted us and said he had a high E string he could sell us.  Once he dug it out I asked how much.  "That'll be ten." he said.  "Ten cents?" I said.  No, he meant ten DOLLARS for a frickin string.  Since a pack of SIX nice electric strings can be had for around 4-5 bucks, I was taken aback.  However, I was in a bit of a bind so I asked if he'd take five bucks for one, thinking myself generous.  "No," he said, "I only sell to movie stars and rock stars here and these are really special strings.  10 bucks a piece...."

At this point, it dawned on me that this man had legitmate mental issues and this conversation was going nowhere fast.  I bailed.

Jason and I then called Sam to figure out where else in this God forsaken city one might find a high E string.  Several of the places we would usually go to were closed on Tuesday (why?  Because it's Aurora, that's why).  Eventually we figured out that Wal-Mart was a possibility.

We started driving across town in semi-crappy traffic with Jason's windshield covered in ice and mud (because his heater and defroster work only when they so desire - see studio blog one).  Every 25-37 seconds I had to grab some shop towels off a roll Jason keeps in his car and clean off the condensation from the inside so that he could see.  Eventually, we made it to Wal-Mart.... and amazingly enough, in one piece.

After walking around Wal-Mart looking for strings with no luck, we decided to ask someone in the electronics department.  I mean, after all, Wal-Mart has greeters.  These peoples only job is to be nice to you when you walk in.  Despite this, the staff did not impress.

"I think they're in automotive." said Goth Girl in a Wal-Mart vest with a smiley face on it.  She had cleary been exposed to a mind-altering substance within the last 6 hours; my guess was a household cleaning product... from aisle 4.  I think she was grinning evil-ly, but it was hard to tell through the piercings.  Something about this seemed sad, even despite the smiley face.  Apparently my expression betrayed this as she then followed up with, "Well, it's not like they're in shoes."

Ignoring our better judgement, we searched automotive with no luck and then asked someone else for help.

"Try Electronics." said Sassy Mom of three, also donning a Wal-Mart vest with a smiley face on it.  We informed her that Goth Girl from electronics had already told us it was not there.  "I'm just a cashier."  she replied.

"Well, can you tell me who in this entire of store of 60 employees CAN help me?" I said in a slightly more frustrated tone.  She pointed at someone wearing a more official looking plastic badge and no smiley face.  This person was able to tell us immediatly that there were no strings in Wal-Mart, or anywhere in the tri-state as far as they knew.

After getting back in the car, and then pulling over to wipe off more condensation, we stopped at a Hobby Lobby.  They did not have strings, but informed us about a Target that might.  On the way to Target (insert condensation wiping here) Sam called and had found a friend back by his studio that had some strings he was willing to lend us.  He gave us the address and I typed it into the GPS on my phone to navigate.  Being raised on a farm, all suburbs look identical to me.  Leaving me in the suburbs without a GPS is akin to dropping the average person into the middle of the Serengeti. 

My friendly GPS led us several miles back across town to Gates street, where Sam's friend Marco lived.  After driving up and down the block a few times, we discovered that Marco's house was either invisble or had been destroyed in the few minutes since we had last talked to Sam on the phone.  Further investigation revealed that Marco actually lived on Gates AVENUE and not Gates STREET.  Gates Avenue was on the other side of town.....  (wipe condensation).

Eventually we made it to Marco's.  He turned out to be one of the largest Hispanic men I have ever met.  He was very, very nice and if he reads this blog, I'd like to say thanks!  I'd also like to say that he could have broken me in half like a string bean.  I mean it,  this guy is probably in the UFC.

Anyway, we made it back to the studio, changed strings and moved on.  If anything, the visit gave me a newfound appreciation that most of my time in the suburbs has been spent in an underground studio making music.