The 2012 No Hotel? No Problem Tour: Part 3

Amy LaVere, Dave Cousar, and Shawn Zorn, Angry Mom Records, Ithaca, NY

Wednesday, March 14 

Bus from Rochester to Ithaca: 10:55 a.m. 

After a quick breakfast with Liz and her mom, it was back to the bus for me, for a two-hour ride back to Ithaca to see Amy and her band play an in-store at one of my favorite record stores (Angry Mom Records) before the official show at Lot 10 (formerly Delilah's, formerly something or other in my college days but definitely not a bar). The bus wasn't all that crowded, so I figured it's be a quick, uneventful ride. And it was.

Until we almost killed a dog.

I was trying to block out the smell of urine hovering in the bus, reading my book, and occasionally taking a peek at the towns we were passing by when the driver started laying on his horn. When I looked outside and saw that we appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, I thought it odd that we would be close enough to a car to warrant some honking. And then the driver hit the horn a few more times and I saw a mangy-looking dog just sitting down in the middle of the road. And the pooch seemed pretty indifferent to the honking. Oh boy.

I braced for an awful thud, but thankfully it never came. Without swerving at all, the driver somehow managed to drive over the dog, who, the woman across the aisle from me reported, came out safely on the other side. When we got to Ithaca, I commended the driver on a job well done. Killing a dog really would've put a damper on the trip.

Turkey burger on waffle bun, Waffle Frolic, Ithaca, NY

Since I had already overloaded on nostalgia on my Sunday visit to Ithaca, and I was carrying around four days' worth of dirty clothes, I declared Wednesday Laundry Day. I briefly debated breaking into Terrace 12 or using the laundry room at the off-campus apartment where I lived my senior year but decided being arrested for doing laundry would be funny but ultimately embarrassing. So I settled on the laundromat closest to the bus station. And after that was done, I consumed one of my favorite sandwiches in America, the turkey burger on a waffle bun from Waffle Frolic. The cafe didn't exist when I was at IC, and that's probably for the best. Not only would I have spent entirely too much money there, but it would've made weekend breakfasts at the Terrace Dining Hall, where you could make your own waffles, less exciting. And, really, there was nothing quite like the feeling of waking up on Saturday knowing that you were going to be able to make your own waffle.

Amy LaVere and Dave Cousar, Angry Mom Records, Ithaca, NY

I made a quick run (via bus) back to campus to grab a copy of the latest Buzzsaw (of which I am a founder and former executive publisher) before the in-store at Angry Mom. When I saw Amy, she noted that the cold was now gone but there was still recovering from Rochester going on. The in-store went well, though, with a decent crowd showing up to watch Amy from her spot in the Comedy section.

Amy LaVere, Angry Mom Records, Ithaca, NY

As the band headed back for some rest, I wandered back into Angry Mom and bought a Steve Goodman LP and a CD by Auburn, NY's A Cast of Thousands (the most controlled purchasing I've ever done at Angry Mom) before drifting around Ithaca in search of a place to eat dinner. There are a bunch of new places, so I looked at some menus, hoping something would pique my interest. There were a few possibilities, but then I realized, "Hey, I've never actually eaten dinner at Moosewood," one of the more famous vegetarian restaurants in America. I think I had a piece of pumpkin pie there once when my sister (the vegetarian of the family) came up for a visit, but I never got past my skepticism of vegetarian restaurants enough to go there for dinner. Now that I've learned to love a few vegetarian restaurants (and one vegan food truck), it seemed like the right time. And when I saw spinach cheese ravioli on the menu (which changes daily), I was in. And so now I've eaten dinner not only at Dinosaur BBQ but also at Moosewood. And I declare Moosewood good (the cream of asparagus soup was a winner, too; it didn't last long enough for the photograph).

Spinach and cheese ravioli, w/ side of bread, Moosewood Restaurant, Ithaca, NY

Feeling slightly bloated (I probably should've spaced out lunch and dinner a little more), I made my way to Lot 10 a few minutes before showtime. Everybody seemed rested and ready to go, crowd included, except, apparently, for the one guy Dave said got angry when they started setting up the merch table. We weren't exactly sure what bothered him so much about it, but Dave said the guy moaned something about "coming here to hear music." Ithaca: you've gotta love it.

Dave Cousar, Amy LaVere, and Shawn Zorn, Lot 10, Ithaca, NY

And for the second Amy show in Ithaca in a row, there were some verbal fireworks between a  gentleman and a lady in the middle of Amy's set. Last time, the gentleman (same guy both times) chastised a woman for talking loudly during the show (for which I applaud him, though I'll admit he could've been more tactful), which she didn't take too kindly to and responded in a measured but vaguely combative tone. This time, the gentleman was irked by an Ithaca staple, the woman twirling and wildly gesticulating around the room and occasionally attempting to rope a gentleman into gesticulating with her. I was safely behind a wall of guys occasionally humoring her, but the gentleman in question was all alone in front of the stage and not enjoying the interpretive dance show. So, after trying to deal with it for a while, he eventually stormed off to get someone from the bar involved, with the twirling lady soon following behind. I'm not sure how it was resolved, but I didn't see her much after that, and she was definitely gone by night's end.

As for the show, it was another good one, highlighted by Amy's cover of David Bowie's "Moonage Daydream" and Dave's take on Tom Waits's "Clap Hands." I realized this was probably the last night of the tour that I'd see Dave do his mini-set (and definitely the last "long" show of the tour, with the rest of the shows likely being 40-minute opening slots), so I was glad I'd decided to go to the Rochester and Ithaca shows. He's a good one.

I helped out with merch at the Ithaca show, because I like to be useful and I actually enjoy selling merch at shows. In fact, if that were a legitimate career. I'd pursue it over copy editing. I would've even gotten a degree in merch selling if it were offered. How could it be less useful than the journalism degree that I have?

Unfortunately, I experienced the downside of merch selling at the end of the night when I made the foolish decision to try to carry both the t-shirt suitcase and the CD suitcase down the stairs and out to the van. Note "try to." I failed. Well, actually I got down the stairs, but somewhere between opening the door and stepping onto the sidewalk, I also stepped on a strap at the bottom of the t-shirt suitcase and promptly tipped over like a Little Teapot. And, so after all that time sober and staying on my feet outside the bars of Ithaca, my streak ended on the pavement outside of Lot 10. It was a good run.

I came out of the fall with only a skinned left knee and a slightly bruised left shoulder, so I was still cleared for travel, and shipping off to Boston, by way of New York City, via bus and train.

Kaelin

Thursday, March 15

Bus to New York City, 1:30 a.m.
Train to Boston, 8:30 a.m.
Bus to New York City, 11:59 p.m.

Yes, that's a busy travel day. No, I didn't think it through properly.

I forgot to factor in that, despite my bag full of clean clothes, I wouldn't have a chance to shower on Thursday. And, not only that, but if I wanted to change my clothes, I would probably have to do that in a bathroom somewhere. And that didn't seem like it would be fun.

So, as the Coach USA bus wound its way through upstate New York and in between grabbing about 30 minutes of sleep at a time, I decided I would take a chance on missing the Amtrak to Boston in an attempt to rush home, drop my bag off, and take a shower. If I made the 8:30, cool; I'd maybe take a tour of Fenway Park to kill a few hours, since I hadn't heard back from my friend D.J. (and understandably so; you don't want to know about the week he had) and wasn't sure what else to do in Boston. If I missed the train, I'd just take the next one, pay whatever fee I had to, skip the Fenway tour, and bum around Boston (bag-free, which would make the day much more enjoyable).

We got in a little early, so it looked like I might make it. But I just missed the PATH train to Journal Square and, after the bag dropoff and cursory shower, just missed the PATH train back to NYC, so I wound up getting to Penn Station at about 8:35. Oh well. At least I didn't stink.

The next train wasn't for a few hours. Well, there was an Acela Express leaving sooner, but that was an upgrade fee I was not willing to pay, so I forked over $20 for the next regional train, went to the FedEx Office for a bit, and then went back to Penn Station to read the newspapers and wait for the train. In that time, D.J. texted me to tell me he and his daughter, Kaelin, would be more than happy to hang out if I so desired. I did, and since it'd been a few days since I'd seen one of my friend's adorable kids, I was happy to have some more kid time.

But before the train pulled into Boston (after leaving NYC 15 minutes late...the laws of travel: the train you show up late for will always leave right on time, and the next one will always be late), I got to overhear my favorite conversation of the trip. It seems the woman seated in front of me was not pleased with her doctor, and she was expressing her displeasure on her cell phone to someone connected with said doctor. The problem at hand was some test results that she was waiting on, but it turns out there was another, more pressing issue. My fellow passenger had "done a stupid human thing" (her words) and now had a codeine situation. See, in the process of pouring the large bottle of Tylenol with codeine into a smaller, more manageable bottle (because she wanted to carry it in a bottle that "wouldn't break her back"), she spilled "a third to a half" of the liquid codeine. Oopsie!

So, clearly, she would be in need of more codeine, please. From what I could gather from the side of the conversation I was hearing, I don't think it worked out. An important lesson: be careful with your codeine, kids. And I also learned that Tylenol with codeine is now dispensed in gallon jugs. You learn so much when you travel on trains and buses.

Anyway, after my train arrived, and I hopped on a couple of Ts to get closer to where D.J. lived, I was in his apartment in Peabody and under the watchful eye of a very wary one-year-old. But Kaelin eventually decided I was less frightening than I appeared and even showed off both her expert head-dancing skills while she ate and her nascent walking skills afterward.

Alas, after D.J. made dinner, it was soon bedtime for Kaelin and almost showtime for Amy. So I bid Kaelin and her mom, Wendy, adieu, and D.J. drove me back to the T station so I could get to the show at TT the Bear's (so many Ts!) in Cambridge. I arrived with plenty of time to spare and got to see Amy's first show back with her bass. She seemed glad to have it back, and she got a good response from the Rich Robinson fans, both in the crowd and at the merch table. I did have to deftly avoid a haggling session with a guy recommending Stevie Ray Vaughan DVDs to me. After the Stevie Ray talk, he turned to me and said, "Here's $40. I want everything." It was an enticing proposition, considering Amy was selling four CDs, an LP, and a T-shirt, which would run the average concertgoer a total of $90. Still, I decided not to jump on the deal and suggested he might want to wait for Amy to come over and see how she felt about the offer. He did. She wasn't that impressed. But he did get a slight deal on not quite everything.

C'mon, music lovers. Don't haggle at the merch table. It's not a flea market or an episode of American Pickers. You look bad when you do it. If someone's gone to the trouble of coming up with a price for their art, why don't you just go ahead and pay that price. Or if you don't have the cash on you, just wait and buy it some other time. No one will think less of you, whereas someone (namely, me, and probably a few others) will think less of you when you haggle.

And so ends my anti-haggling PSA. It's one to grow on...

After trying to straighten up the t-shirt situation (finding sizes was a struggle) and meeting Rich Robinson's merch guy, the Dude (or Dennis, if you prefer; I prefer the Dude), I had to cut out during Rich Robinson's set in order to successfully wrap up my brief run through Boston and catch the Megabus back to New York City to, with any luck, grab a few hours of sleep in my own bed before moving on to Philadelphia.

As it turns out, I didn't really need to rush.

UP NEXT: One overnight bus ride too many, two shows in Philly, and three kinds of meat in our nation's capital.

The 2012 No Hotel? No Problem Tour: Part 1

Preamble

As avid Tinsel & Rot readers (both of you) know, I occasionally get the urge to travel. And, for me, traveling does not involve heading to a peaceful locale where I can catch up on sleep and slow down for a bit. On the contrary, I frequently set an itinerary, usually built around seeing friends and/or going to shows, that I know will completely and utterly exhaust me and lead to at least a week of recovery from the supposedly relaxing break from cubicle life.


So, when I saw that Amy LaVere would be opening for Rich Robinson for a string of dates in the Northeast, most of which were in or near cities where friends lived, the wheels started turning. I originally thought about just taking a few days off, but when she announced headlining shows in Rochester and Ithaca, a new plan started to take root. I had already thought about going to Ithaca the Sunday of the week she'd be in town, because Todd Snider was playing in Ithaca for the first time, roughly 16 years after I first wished that would happen (see here for details about that, although, really, you should have this whole blog committed to memory by now). And if I was going to go to that, well then why not just go for the whole week? And maybe I could get the ball rolling on the Critical, But Stable 10th Anniversary Audio Book while I was at it.


Thus, a vacation was born.


As I started figuring out bus and train schedules and how much all this would run me, I decided that I would try to keep it down to no more than two nights in a hotel. Sure, this would mean imposing upon friends and perhaps taking a few overnight bus rides, but I could do that. Heck, I've been doing it for years, and though the knees and back get a little stiffer on those long bus rides these days, maybe I could make it all happen one last time. Then, because my friends are such lovely, giving people, it began to look like I could do the whole trip without staying in even one hotel. And some might even be able to come out to the shows. Nice!


So, what follows over the next few posts is the summary of the No Hotel? No Problem tour, as best as I can recall it.

Saturday, March 10
Bus from NYC to Oneonta: 8:30 am

After a Thursday night at the Todd Snider show at Irving Plaza and a Friday night with Bobby Keys and the Suffering Bastards at the Highline Ballroom (during which I thought Mr. Keys might pass out), I rose and shone and made the bus to Oneonta with about 30 seconds left to spare. The driver informed me I was lucky when he took my ticket, but I prefer to think of myself as a professional bus rider who knows exactly when I need to be at the gate. In fact, I think I've taken enough buses in my life now that I deserve one of those bus driver jackets. It seems like the right thing to do. Please contact me at your earliest convenience, Greyhound and/or Coach USA.

I actually didn't really need to get the 8:30 bus, but, because I am such a pro, I know that the 8:30 bus is my best shot at having enough of a layover in Kingston that I can get to Deising's Bakery in Kingston to get a bunch of the soft pretzels they make on the weekends. And I did (and also picked up some Irish soda bread rolls), thus providing much joy to two of the families who would be   providing shelter on the first leg of the trip.

I got into Oneonta around 1 pm, and my friend Jessica (who, as a mother of two who had her parents up for the weekend, was more than willing to get out of the house to pick me up at the bus station) and I soon found ourselves in Silks and Treasures, the local consignment shop at which everything in the store was $5 that day only. Jessica scored some deals on clothes, and I picked up a $5 pair of sneakers that looked like they may have been worn once. A nice start to the trip, followed up by a visit to the local hoarditorium, where boxes of records, shelves of VHS tapes and DVDs, and piles of books lived together peacefully, willing to go to a new home for a reasonable price but just as content to stay there until the endtimes. I kept myself mainly in check, buying only two records, a Dean Martin LP and this, which I wasn't willing to buy for $10 but gladly walked away with for $5.

Sealed! With the exercise poster untouched! I cannot wait to do the Fire Hydrant while I listen to "Elvira"!

By the time we got back to the house, daily quiet time was almost over, and I was soon drafted by young Sam into playing with trains, climbing into the not-really-for-35-year-old-legs fire truck/tent, and serving as a nurse in the animal hospital. I'm not bragging, but we saved a cat from a fire, and that was even after the cat, in something I didn't think was felinely possible, went back on fire after we had seemingly put the flames out. It was tense for a bit and I'd love to take most of the credit, but the doctor really came through on this one.

My friend Brett, fresh from supervising a Model UN afternoon, came home just after the cat situation was resolved, and we went out for dinner, to Andre's Blue Ribbon BBQ, where we were treated to good food (any place with a baked sweet potato has a special place in my heart) and generally playful though occasionally uncomfortable rapport between the husband and wife who own the restaurant (we were the only two people in the place, so that might have caused some of the discomfort on my end...also "Prairie Home Companion" was on). This is one of the few places I ate where I didn't take pictures of the food, so you'll have to just trust me that it was good.

And then it was back home, and soon time for sleep after a successful Day One. It was not, however, the best day of the year for me to be losing an hour. Thanks a lot, stupid Daylight Savings Time.


Sunday, March 11

Bus from Oneonta to Binghamton: 12:50 or 1:00 (depending on which Coach USA schedule you consulted); Bus from Binghamton to Ithaca: 2:05


 





















After some early-morning churching and the first dancing Bocephus sighting of the day (in a deli in Oneonta), there was some heavy conversation at the breakfast table between Sam and me on the topics of pirates, sharks, and poop. I can't entirely recall how the three connected, but suffice it to say it was the best conversation I've had all year, perhaps in my entire life.

Unfortunately, I could not spend more time traversing the pirate-shark-poop triangle, because I had to get back on the road. So, after a little more playtime, Brett's stellar work on getting the audio book project started, a quick goodbye to Jessica and her parents, and a parting snapshot of baby Fiona, Brett, Sam, and I headed to the bus station, to catch the bus to Binghamton, where, if we hit no traffic and arrived right on time, I could catch my connecting bus to Ithaca. It is such a precise connection that they don't even give you the hope of making it at the Oneonta bus terminal, instead telling you the time when the next bus to Ithaca (4:15) leaves from Binghamton.

Please. Of course I made it.

The above is, essentially, the view just outside of the window of the room where I lived for two years at Ithaca College. It turns out I was not aware of this. Or maybe it's because the day I arrived in Ithaca was far and away the nicest day I've ever seen in Ithaca. I had layered up for the trip, assuming that my few days in central New York would involve some combination of wind, clouds, and precipitation. Pretty much wrong on all fronts, so I had to de-layer once my friend Bryan arrived in town. So, that done and my Huey Lewis and the News shirt now uncovered for the fine people of Ithaca to see (multiple compliments, thank you very much), Bryan and I took a walk down memory lane on campus (largely shut down for spring break) as we tried to remember where our friends lived when we were in college. I was a little better at that than Bryan, which may have something to do with the difference in the amount of alcohol we consumed in college.

Here are a few pictures that won't mean a thing to you. But what is a blog if not a place where one can post things of no importance to the rest of the world? Good. That's settled.

The middle room on the left is where I lived for two years: Terrace 12, Room 220. You can't see it too well from the picture, but the room on the bottom right has a Justin Bieber poster in the window. I am hoping it is ironic. I fear it is not.

And this is the room where I lived my junior year: Terrace 2, Room 102. Excellent, easy access to the Terrace Dining Hall, but a bit of a challenge because it was right next to the main door, which meant every time someone needed to get into the building and the door was locked, my window would get a tap. I noted that the current resident has his or her bed right up against the window, so maybe that isn't a problem anymore. Or maybe the current resident is just a people person.

Junior year was the year I first felt completely comfortable in college. And kind of in life in general. I miss junior year.

OK, enough wistful, nostalgic longings. Let's get to some pictures of food! There are many fine eating establishments from my days in college that are now gone (Gino's, I miss you most of all), but, luckily, the Glenwood Pines still remains. I actually think I was there no more than once while in college, but it became the go-to stop in the years immediately after, and it remains so today. The food is good, but the old school bowling game is even better.

And no trip to the Pines is complete without a piece of Kentucky Derby Pie. I had already marked this as a trip highlight before the first bite entered my mouth. You might not match it with a pint, but Bryan knows what he's doing, so let's not question him. And, anyway, it is what Tom Waits would do.

Then it was time for the first rock show of the trip, a show I'd been waiting for since the fall of 1996, when I first started checking Pollstar (a concert website) during breaks between classes on the computers in the Friends Hall computer lab and the Ithacan office. Finally, Todd Snider was coming to Ithaca. I was maybe a little less excited than I would've been in 1996 and if it was a Nervous Wrecks show at the old, smaller Haunt, but not much. After all, it was still a band show (though the band had lost two members from the show I saw in NYC on Thursday), and that was enough reason to rejoice, since Todd's generally a solo act these days.

After a bit of a rocky start due to some guitar issues, Todd and crew settled into a groove and played a looser, rowdier, and generally more fun show than the NYC show (which was still plenty of fun). He seemed less intent on showcasing his new record and more focused on just having a good time on a Sunday night in Ithaca. It was a good-sized crowd for a Sunday night, too, and I was proud of the people of Ithaca for coming out on a Sunday night. By the time Todd settled into a reworked version of "Doublewide Blues" (off of Viva Satellite, the very CD I was obsessing over as graduation approached in 1998), it felt a little bit like college again. And then when I finally got to see Todd's road manager, Dave, do his best Elvis during the encore (he does it fairly frequently but somehow never at the shows I go to), I was really happy with how this trip was turning out.

And, really, any day where you see two different dancing Bocephi (and you're not in my apartment, where one stands in my bedroom and one's in the kitchen) is a good day.

NEXT UP: The last day of no music, I almost knock myself out, and my long-awaited return to Rochester, NY.