Tour, Entry III. Asheville, North Carolina. Late June, Like Wicked
Late June, Dude, Year 2013
Quick Dip South
Ah, Asheville. Good ole North Carolina. One of my favorite places.
When I stop living the life of a gypsy, it's one of the top ten
places I have under consideration to stay-detached from my luggage.
Asheville is a hip, happening, historic, holistic, and hedonistic
little city. They have microbreweries, mountains, and movie theaters-three
important prerequisites for me to become detached from my luggage.
We, your favorite band and their crew, have a day off here, and
everyone is rearing and ready to go, or should be. After three
days of a steaming sauna in the City and a 700 mile drive, Asheville
is a welcome relief. Oh, yes it is, even though our collective
asses are dragging.
is-what to do? We are on tour, but we are not tourists. We check
into a hotel, but it is for one night. Some of us have been here
before, others have not. I'm kind of in the middle. I've been
here with moe. several times but have only ventured a few blocks
radius from the Orange Peel. I don't have a plan, just yet, other
than I'm hungry. Some of us go to our rooms, others initiate a
pub crawl--we are in microbrew heaven. I follow Rob and Chuck
who have been here mega--times, and know of a great little café
near Pack Square. We have breakfast for 3 at 2.
that, they go one way, and I go buy a cigar and wander over to
the Thomas Wolfe House on Spruce Street (the only thing I had
planned). There I find a park bench, sit, and light it up. It's
something I do in my travels. Whenever I'm in a town where one
of my favorite writer's lived, I'll seek them out, drop by and
catch a vibe. Thomas Wolfe is one such writer (if you're looking
to read the great American novel this summer, look no further
than, Look Homeward, Angel). I don't go in the house. I
have no need to actually see where he ate, slept, and shat. I
hang and puff and write a blog about NYC
And lose complete track of time. It's after 6, and I'm getting
bombarded with text messages-who's eating what and where with
whom; then movie, entertainment, or beer? Of course it's beer-we're
in Asheville. I pass some of my kind--Vinnie, Al, Steve--on the
bus--but again lose track of time. Before I know it, everyone's
off doing something. It's after ten. I'm wondering if I'm missing
out on anything? I send text messages but only get a few replies,
until the next morning, when this exchange, bizarrely, came in
all at once:
Skip-10 am bus call?
Frank-you guys just starting or winding it up? Long walk from
hotel room comfy bed.
Huffer-you want to do Belgians at the thirsty monk? The players
here are all played out
Al-Rob and I are on bus right now
Skip-for the night?
Rob-Lookin' to hook up sailorman?
Huffer-we're leaving the pool hall. Bus sounds good
I didn't feel like I missed that much. Today there is so much
to do. We're off to Black Mountain and the mighty Pisgah ... brewery,
that is, to play and put on a party.