Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Snow, Nor Hail...

I loaded up my gear in my truck for the trek to the 10 High last night, and the sky was grumbling.  I thought maybe I'd be able to get away before it struck, so I jumped in and took off.  By the time I got to I-75, the clouds were really dark and low, and most were poised just south of me.  It looked like I was definitely going to have to go through it, but if I could go really fast, maybe I could get out from under it before my gear got wet.

Just south of Delk Road, the sky was creepy and dark.  All of the sudden--POW!--a big piece of hail hit my windshield, then another, then another!  Aghh!!!  Before I knew it, I was in the middle of the most ferocious hailstorm I'd ever seen--and all my gear was getting pounded in the bed of my truck!  The interstate was completely covered in ice, so much that you could no longer see the lanes.  People were pulling over and slowing way down, while I tried to weave through them at sixty miles and hour, fishtailing madly on the ice.  I needed an overpass to get under, but every one I came to was already packed with people waiting out the storm, so on I drove!

I stopped screaming long enough to look down and see that I was doing eighty.

I finally found an open overpass, so I pulled over.  The bed of my truck had a bucket's worth of ice in it.  As I grabbed the first cases and moved them into the cab, a car came flying up behind me.  A guy jumped out and screamed "THAT WAS FUCKED UP!!!!!!!!"

In a few minutes, I had all my gear reconfigured, and the hail had switched to rain, so I headed out again. By the time I got south of West Paces Ferry, the rain had stopped, and it the ground was dry when I got into the city.  Crazy weather!

Yacht Rock was at the 10 High again.  We had a better crowd than the previous week, though it looked bad until just before we started.  It definitely helps when the door guy isn't stealing money.

The first set was ok.  I played pretty well.  Monkey was having a bad night.  We went on break, and I gave up.  The second set, I busied myself by adding Hot in Herre (an homage to Chuck Brown, and an attempt to piss Bencuya off) into every song, sometimes transposed and sometimes not, and almost always between songs.  It actually sounds OK in the verses of Power of Love.  When I had an organ sound dialed up, I tried the beginning of Bustin' Loose, but he ignored me.  I wished I'd brought seven band aids.  Dannells was drunk enough that he started singing along.  No worries until he actually takes off all his clothes.

That was it.  Another night of being subversive and annoying.  No rain at load out.

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