November 29

Our day started off with the leisurely inclination to get a good southern cooked meal, seeing as how the drive to Jacksonville would be relatively painless and minutely time consuming. When I think of the words “leisure” and “southern”, no appropriate destination for food constituting both strikes my fancy more than Cracker Barrel. We were still hanging strong with Dr. Manhattan and they agreed that a feast of southern proportions was much needed. We cruised for an hour down the interstate as the golden Floridian sun lit up the aquamarine sky with its opulent rays; our stomachs aching for the fortifying fullness of a home cooked meal. Cracker Barrel is basically a restaurant chain of rocking chair lovin’, lemonade sippin’, life lovin’, kindred souls---there to serve persons of any race, lifestyle, age or political preference with open arms warmer than the piping hot endless plates of biscuits they serve. It was time to chow. After a harmless 10 minutes spent in the gift shop decked out in sparkling Christmas decorations and animated snowmen singing heavenly choruses of carols, our table was soon prepared for our hands to be clenching knife and fork, hungry as orphans. We passed the heaping piles of buttery biscuits and crisp corn bread around and feasted like Grecian gods, all for a very appropriate and affordable price. My favorite part of the table conversation was the radical idea of waitresses from Cracker Barrel and waitresses from Hooters switching positions and the absolute humor that would ensue if they were to do so. If you have been to either restaurant chain, you know where I am coming from in saying that no two profiles of waitresses could be more completely opposite. Hilarious. After we were done eating and ready to be rolled out of the doors like tubs of butter, we finished the drive and arrived in Jacksonville, FL. We loaded in and found ourselves with nothing better to do and nowhere better to go than behind the venue where our vans were parked and bust out the acoustic guitars and makeshift percussion instruments of sticks and foot stomps, playing out our favorite 90’s hits as we danced around like drunken sailors. The show was pretty mild and not much for a remarkable turnout, but we had a great time playing. During the middle of the show I was lucky enough to be outside as downtown Jacksonville celebrated their annual parade of lights. They set off a skyline of breathtaking fireworks over the towering buildings. My jaw dropped as I watched the fizzling dazzle of florid explosions fall to the earth like comets. After the show, the owner was very nice and let us stay after hours, giving us gratuitous pints of fancy brew and stories up the wazoo about Jacksonville folk. Soon after we boarded our vans and made destination to a local motel, all three bands sharing two rooms to be economical. We were blessed with the kind gift from a friend of ours that had been at the venue the night before; a towering shiny bottle of Jameson Irish whiskey and a good-natured hand written note on the label saying how much he misses us. We took numerous shots of the brown elixir in his honor and played card games until our bellies and brains were full of too much stimuli and drink. We all fell asleep scattered everywhere about the hotel rooms and welcomed in another successful day of rock n’ roll.