Tampa Pt. 1

Last night as I was debating whether to go out of the hotel t all, after a relatively short 7 hour travel to Tampa from Greensboro, I was summoned to the lobby by a friend of mine. Quickly sampling the social options around the hotel bar and adjacent steakhouse, we aligned ourselves with a trio of colleagues looking for Italian food. The front desk called a local restaurant and arranged for us to be picked up at the front of the hotel. This was to avoid the observably dangerous Tampa gang scene just over the bridge from our condoed Starbucksian island digs. There are TV commercials that entreat local populations, through clever use of minority actors wearing oversized T-shirts, to curb their use of guns as playthings. These are in support of shows like Home Improvement and Ellen, both excellent. I found a neighborhood yesterday that hosts a large amount of gun violence just past the bank buildings, and I identified it as dangerous based on the three wig shops that had gone out of business on one block.

We were met outside by an old white minivan with a white haired driver who claimed to be a musician and he just had to drive the car because the other guy had a wife who is ill. Of course I didn’t believe him but he had a thick accent that suggested he was from Italy, and was quite talkative. He said he was the owner of the restaurant, which would be easily verifiable upon arrival, so we warmed to his enthusiastic hand gestures and answered his questions freely. The restaurant it turns out was only a block from the hotel and was within the confines of the white Christmas tree light decorations that mark where one can park their Porsche at curbside and return to find it right side up.

The place was at ground level on the corner of a condo building against one of the channels that separates Harbor Island from Tampa downtown. There was a small square bar stuck in one corner and a large dining area that featured a piano and drum set near the door. The tops of the piano and bar were glass and the tablecloths touch the floor. After sitting down everything happens very slowly, except the conversation. The man who picked us up did a few turns behind the bar and checked the kitchen before sitting down at the piano to play some extremely out of tune numbers with bluesy and timeless inflections, and sing. The waiter offered menus and mentioned some specials and filled waters. He looked and sounded Italian, was wearing all black, and only took orders for food or wine when we offered.

As the owner knew we were performers, he was excited to get someone up to sing a song with him. One of our lot, from outside the company, had played Evita at some point and it was insisted that she was excellent. I emphasized to her that Don’t Cry For Me Argentina was a bad choice to perform while sitting in during a dinner set. This song was found to be unfortunate common ground among the singer, the pianist and a woman sitting in the crook of the piano drinking wine and offering suggestions loudly and emotionally. So off they went, “Don’t think it sad/Don’t think it strange” or whatever the words are. The table closest to the piano was spooked by all this and was visibly distressed. When the number ended, after the woman sitting at the piano conducted and mimed them through the last couple of choruses, the pianist started right into New York, New York to get a man up to sing with him.

After this, the nice woman who had been helping out with lyrics took the mic to do a short set. This ended, unpredictably, with a couple storming out of the restaurant. The owner darted after them and the singing woman explained that he was just saying goodbye and they were actually all good friends.

Gainesville, FL

Here in Gainesville there are so many things to love, there is a motel that appears to be a converted storage unit and one with a pool that is as deep as it is wide. There’s a great Thai restaurant that serves a Tum Yum soup that might as well be holy water. It’s available in a vegan option, which is most likely still using Chicken stock. This is actually not vegan or vegetarian, but works just fine for all but the most high strung travelers.

Actually Current

I haven't had reliable internet access here in Tampa because we are staying in a hotel that is too nice. The venue is nice, and is reliably empty of paying customers, which helps us to hear every pin that may drop during the performance, don't want to lose those pins! There's a cruise ship in today so I can walk around and see all the imprisoned eastern europeans and southeast asians clamoring into taxis to get away from the ship to Gap or Victoria's Secret for an afternoon leave. There's a senior officer in this coffee shop video chatting in Danish (talking in Danish while taking in danish; a total experience for him I suspect). There's a bowling alley/pizza/sushi/bar/pool hall in this mall complex that marries all these pursuits incredibly well.

Today we bid auf weidersane to the German John Deere delegation with whom we shared our hotel the last few days. A fantastic looking group of women whose jobs selling tractors beg for drunken jokes involving plays on "hay bales" and variations of "how high is the grass today?" and "do I have to be seated to turn this on?" Have they said whether sexual harrasment is bad if you don't actually work for the same company? We also say ciao to the United Kingdom John Deere delegation with who we shared our hotel the last few days. A wonderfully drunk group of lawn care specialists and farmers responsible for the kilt friendly ride-on seat and putting the plowed in plow.

I now want to settle down with the circus. Yes, and I'd only go into Public Radio for the money. Things are not what they seem.

A man with a pug eating a bit of trash just walked by me and said "he ate a lighter today, I've got to pay closer attention."

Under Review

After a vacation in the north lasting a week, we are all back in FL again.

Our time in Elmira was well spent dodging some very nice people who were quite talkative. These included the hotel staff, who were completely attentive and well trained Country Inn employees. Also a bartendress who was sure that margaritas are tangier when made with half and half lime juice and lemonade, with a splash of tequila for flavor. The waitresses had nowhere else to go it seemed, night after night. Then there was the cell phone seller who spotted me immediately by the catcalls coming from the groups of pretty boys walking through the mall and urged me to bring a group of boys to a bar after the show that night. Everyone was really nice out there. Not at the bar, of course.

This brings me to a great surprise me and a boon for some: there are gay bars in all of these places we’ve been, often catering to large groups including prominent members of the upper class. There has been a connection already to the family behind the Abercrombie and Fitch clothing line and to the ownership of a major railroad.

After that we went to Hartford, CT for the first of hopefully not many awkward experiences with IATSE and AEA. These are unions that staff the well-known theaters across the country. Our company does not operate under union contracts and this is because the tour that did operate under these rules ceased to be profitable and so closed. Is this because the bosses were greedy? Maybe, but probably within what is their due as all of the tours are huge financial risks for the investors. The tour definitely closed because fewer people were buying tickets and the payroll was too high and the houses too large to pay the bills. So what are you going to do.
Having your various locals alienate the companies who literally roll up to their door to work alongside them and earn everybody a weekend’s pay is not good organizing practice. They would have done much better to hit their pillows Thursday night until they got all the bad feelings out and chin up Friday morning to show us the paradise of working backstage in Hartford. This was an opportunity missed for them, because how often do 55 non-union people wander in for the weekend? How did they let their presenter hire us, a company of migrant losers to play their? We can’t be the first, but if we are, why aren’t we contacted weekly in a professional manner by the unions?
To be clear, we are very well treated every day and our crew is very well treated, and we all aspire to be working under union contracts because those are the best jobs. Everybody understands how they can help protect our trades. We also imagine that there is room at the bottom for our type of job. Why was this the first stop that didn’t feed us between shows? Wouldn’t this have been a good move by the locals to take up the slack and say “hey, here’s dinner on us, why don’t you stop being such a bunch of scabby bastards?” And where was AFM this weekend? Why wasn’t I heckled? Of note; two of the very few concessions the local gave us was for our touring props dept to operate the Radio Control Rats and the CO2 Confetti guns. Rat Operators and CO2 Gun Specialists local #1 of Myskeara, South Dakota; you are on your own for health insurance!