Okay, actually on a roadtrip for the first time in a couple of months, so I guess I best try to live up to the blog’s namesake. On my way back from Boston, westbound on VX353, and writing, as I so often do, on the tail end of the trip.
I’ve been in Boston for a long weekend, gathered with my three other band-mates for the 25th anniversary reunion of The Hinge. We’ve seen each other every few years, at a college reunion, or wedding, but this is the first time since 1984 that the four of us have gathered in one room, plugged in, and let rip as best we could. Which, frankly, wasn’t all that good. Individually, I guess we were good. Chris’ voice can still whip out to the rafters like Robert Plant, Ken can still hammer a wall of drums like he’s got six arms, and Andy – man, Andy still remembers all the riffs, hooks and solos he tore through back when he was our lead guitarist. Me? Well, if this had been TV, I would have been voted off the island, but I mostly held up my part on bass and occasional acoustic six-string.
Problem was, of course, we’d not played most of these songs in over half our lifetime. And the ones we’d played, we’d played our own way, slowly diverging from the common root we’d first learned. But this wasn’t about playing well – this was about playing. Badly, if need be, but with enthusiasm. It’s the way I live my life, if you’ll recall.
But it was good, in many ways. Sitting around the breakfast table at Andy’s house this morning, a couple of acoustic guitars in our laps, deflecting kids while trying to remember the bridge in “Two of Us” – “You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead….” I slide into the walking bass riff as Chris reaches for the Lennon harmony. Andy ducks as a teddy bear flies his way. There’s something very Big Chill about the morning, but without the dead body in the bathtub.
(Speaking of bodies in bathtubs, I just watched 12 Monkeys on iTunes. A bit ominous to be seeing this on a plane, while scanning headlines about incipient pandemic spreading through airports, eh?)
Anyhow. Ahem. Around the table, we took our turns sharing little tidbits about the unexpected plot twists of our lives over the past couple of decades. They unfolded on the slightest turn of a phrase. When Chris mentioned “At one of the marathons I ran last year…” Chris? A marathon junkie? Andy, a senior management consultant? Me? Well, I guess I have my own stories.
But it was good.
And now I’m on my way back. Wicked long flight – 6 and a half hours. We’ve got a stronger headwind than forecast, so the pilots are jockeying for a better altitude. How do I know? I’m following the flight online using FlightAware (http://flightaware.com/live/flight/VRD353). Online? Yeah – we’ve got wireless megabit ethernet on board. It’s very sweet. But is it a good thing? Good: I’m able to check my email. Bad: I’m able to check my email. Good: I’m able to download movies from iTunes. Bad: uhhhh…. Okay, it’s a good thing. Except that I’m able to check my email, which means I’m tempted to do that, catch up on my RSS feeds, go after my quick-twitch news refreshes and do anything I possibly can rather than what I should be spending this time doing: writing up this blog entry. But here I go.
And just to try to round out the “Good” category, I’m going to wrap up now and post – while I’m still in the air. Take that you productivity demon!