Texas Exodus
I will be the first to admit a certain bias against the Republic of Texas. Largely due to the dark years of the previous administration and the state’s overwhelming pride in being the rightest of the right, the gun-totin’est wild westerners of modern history, the most conservative (and therefore better than you) Biblethumpers you ever did see. Could be wrong. Not terribly though.
We flew in to El Paso by way of Dallas. Easy travel day. No delays. In the Dallas airport I encountered a wonderful TSA agent who was oh so eager to explain to me how we are becoming a socialist nay communist nation and by this time next year the airline industry would be government controlled. Big Brother would know exactly where I was flying and with whom. Hmmmm. Goodbye to that anonymity we so enjoyed from a hands-off non-intrusionist regime of old. When queried about the Patriot Act (couldn’t resist) my new Texan compadre hid behind the necessity of the terrorist not winning. Fox News couldn’t have made a better case for this. No, they really couldn’t. This guy was good. I told him I had to catch my flight, and he told me that the kindly folks of Dallas were always ready to adopt the fallen dirty commie pinko liberal queers who apparently I was representing that day.
El Paso. Well. Beautiful Theater!!! And we’re done here.
Waco. Well. Great uh. Um. Ok. So maybe the hotel was venue provided and maybe there was some behind the scenes dealbreaking going on and maybe that meant that everyone got single rooms for double occupancy and maybe that meant between soundcheck and the show the company manager and I had to walk back to the hotel and pack up our rooms and move to an apartment a couple of blocks away which was just maybe being shown the next morning because there is the slightest chance that it was a model apartment for showing to perspective buyers. It was a very nice place, no complaints there. But kind of a pain in the ass that could have been averted if the hotel and presenter had their shizzle a bit more togizzle. Word?
The presenter then made it up to us after the show by buying a round in the “VIP” lounge of a local watering hole. Cool right? Except. Nobody told the bartender or the kitchen. And the “VIP” lounge ended up being the upstairs where anybody could go. It felt a bit too fancy to me so I let my wife be my ambassador to the event while I martyred myself and went home to do the laundry. I am so awesome!!!
On to Corpus Christi. Stayed at the beautiful Omni Bayfront overlooking the gulf. The venue was fantastic and the crowd loved the play. Best response we got in all of Tejas which was a bit off-put as our show may have hit a little close to home. Conservative values meet the angst of youth who just wanna dance. Kenny Loggins you beautiful bastard!!! My buddy Smitty drove up from Mexico (literally) to see the show and we got to hang out over dinner. Fun times! Another advantage to being on the road. Hadn’t seen him since college. A fun side note: The hotel threatened to arrest our crewbus driver as he wasn’t a part of our group for some reason. Security was called three times with a threat of police to follow. Ever the hero, our company manager went to his rescue and Texas marshal justice was indeed averted. Shewwwww
Then the cherry on top. Beaumont!!! Our show takes place in the (yes) fictional town of Bomont. A sure shot at an adoring audience. Except. They seemed to be offended that A. We misspelled the name of their fair burg, and B. Would have the audacity to suggest that they would be so uptight about the kids just wantin’ to dance. Catch 22 anyone? They seemed pissed that we would pass judgement on their town in the art form that is musical theater while being confused and further pissed at the fact that the fictional town of Bomont was not their very town. Confused? Me too. They laughed at the “Bomont, where the hell is Bomont?” joke in the opening and that is about it. The merch lady was verbally assaulted for hawking her devilish wares with the name of the town that we were in that had nothing to do with the town in the show misspelled. And I had a couple comment on how clever it was that we changed the name on the entire set, costumes, and merchandise for whatever city we’re in. But guess what silly drummer? You guys misspelled Beaumont!!! I assured them that quality control was our number one priority. Can’t win ‘em all.
Tonight we got to play on the loading dock in Mt Pleasant. Drums sounded great in that room. Seriously. Felt like I was out with Zeppelin. Or at the very least, Yanni. And they made special vegetarian samiches just for little ‘ole me. It really is the little things.
All things said and done, we played Texas and survived relatively unscathed. I don’t think I’m going to move there, but it wasn’t quite as scary as I thought it could have been. I guess when you expect to be burnt at the liberal and literal stake at every turn, and you’re not, perhaps there is room to try and forgive the heros of the Alamo for giving a breeding ground to produce a baseball-team-owning hilljack who lovingly brought us the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, the collapse of the global economy, the intrusion on privacy guaranteed by the Constitution, the revisitation of torture the likes of which have never been seen in the modern era, and the general hatred of America by the vast majority of the global population. But I digress. On to Nashville. Until we meet again ‘O Great (should-be-independent) Republic of Texas.
