Blood, Glass and Plant

Heading into San Francisco on 5  hours sleep (having performed at 2 radio stations and to shows in Seattle and Portland in 48 hours) we are pulled over for driving in the "non-uhaul lane" by the local police. An hour later we arrive at Hotel Carlton. The lobby is filled with guitar and banjo cases, suitcases and headcases. We are shuttled to Golden Gate Park where the "Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival" is about to begin. Sharon Little, Ronny Crawford, Mark Getten and I are joined by our friend and roadie Tom Laskas and head of CBS Records marketing  woman Audrey Faine. Backstage at this hippie-filled west coast fest are familiar folks like Elvis Costello and, of all people, MC Hammer. In front of a few thousand people Sharon and band deliver some sexy soul to a hip-grooving hand clapping response. Minutes after we are whisked off to not one but two "meet and greets" for the record label where Sharon and I perform and shake hands. 

Passing out after a smoked salmon and free booze coma I wake up with a sore back like Stretch Armstrong after some yoga gone wrong. The hotel people tell me an in-room massgage is $120. "Anyone in the area cheaper?" I ask. "sure, up the street is a good place called 'Olay' ". Sharon and I walk in and notice it smells a bit. Not like lotion or clean but like someone's aunt's house. 

They ask for cash ($60) and point to a private room. I tell the girl that my back is sensitive and she promptly stands on it, full force. I realize that this is not a real massuesse pretty quickly. In fact,  I feel fairly certain when she offers me a "happy ending" via swift hand motions and even swifter chinese speaking. We return to the hotel to pack, now late morning, when Tom calls from the parking lot. "we got broken into". Of course, I think. Someone punched their first through our driver's side window and stole, get this, our GPS. Nothing else, not my camera...or cd's or the radio. There is blood and glass on the driver's seat.

It's now around 2pm. We have to return the car to the San Fran aiport and get a new non-broken window replacement. A tough day to make it through the city by the bay. Not only is the Bluegrass fest still going, but it's Love Fest too! Great. We are not feeling much love as we get the new wheels. It's now after 4pm and we find out tonight's show, the 2nd to last Plant/Krauss show, is an early one. Showtime is 7pm. Shit! Getting there on time (it's in wine country, Kelseyville, California) is tough but possible. The only thing that would make it nearly treacherous and nearly impossible would be having to tow a uhaul through hair-pin turns high up in the mountains. Why this route? Cuz we ain't got no GPS and google tells us this is the best way. It's not. It's now after 6pm and I am texting their tour manager that we are almost there. I am lying. 6:28 and we are still winding around the highest of mountains, kind of like...a stairway to heaven perhaps. 6:47, 13 minutes befor showtime (!!). we pile out of the car. There are crew people and security everywhere with walkie talkies. "we got'em" I overhear. Sharon is throwing clothes all over the car looking for her lipstick. The sun is down and the winds are whipping like wild horses, the way they do just before a downpour. The headliner's drum kit is covered in a tarp that looks like it's about to fly off into the sea, which is right next to the stage. There are approximately 3,000 people there...the smalles venue on this whole tour. It's ahigh ticket price for a somewhat "private show" for the local fat cat wine lover's. All I know is, I have to pee like a racehorse. Where the hell is the bathroom? I am fixing my tie and adjusting my hat (not my regular pimp hat, too windy, but a skull cap that says "WEED California" on it. I frantically knock on a door to one of the many trailors and who do i interrupt? You guessed it. The door swings open and stairing back at me, complete with the WEED hat and sideways tie, is Robert Plant, Alison Krauss and T-Bone Burnett. "Can't help ya, mate" Plant says. I feel like an idiot, yes. With no soundchecj, we take the stage and somehow it all goes over flawlessly. Another great set of sexy blues is delivered. Sharon's face is glowing from the orange and red lights, her blonde strands are like shoelaces blowing in the wind just outside her beret. "Sorry we are a little late but somebody stole our GPS" i tell the crowd, They laugh and cheer. They think I am kidding. I wish I was.

That night as I drift off to sleep, a special on CNBC comes on the hotel room TV. "Tonight we look at the massage parlor scam in San Francisco and the sex slave trade that is behind the scenes".

True story.