But first...Thursday night, I played with the Atlanta Latin Jazz Orchestra at Venkman's. Not my best playing! I came up short in preparation, and it bit me in the butt. Several of those charts are much too difficult to sightread (or play after working through them the night before, as I attempted). Add to that a pretty lame solo, and, yeah...I was kind of disappointed in myself.
Friday: We came in to Denver through what was probably thirty minutes of consecutive turbulence. Monkeyboy almost broke the armrests off his seat. I slept through most of it (though I had a dream that I was flying, but I was in a closet inside the plane, and the only other guy in the closet was eating potato chips and trying not to throw up).
Anyway, the Colorado sky. Beautiful.
Our show was at the Mission Ballroom, a relatively new place and a venue we've never seen before. Quite big and well laid out. We like it!
After soundcheck, I jumped in a Lyft to make the short (2.5 mile) ride to my favorite Indian food restaurant. The quickest way to get there, unfortunately, was on the interstate, and by the time I'd gotten there, eaten, and gotten a ride back, I'd probably wasted $20. Should've just ordered it delivered!
I made it back to the venue with plenty of time to warm up and change clothes, and also injured my big toe while throwing a tampon a Monkeyboy. It was as stupid as it sounds. I immediately had to put on the shoes that I would wear on stage and go play, and I wondered if my toe would swell up so much that I wouldn't be able to take them off later. For the first four or five songs of the night, it really hurt, and then the Advil kicked in.
Anyway, it was an epic night. 3,300 people in attendance. Lots of fun.
The next day, I went back to the same Indian restaurant, had the same waiter, and sat at the same table, and the food was just as good.
By the way, my toe wasn't too bad. The tip is bruised (maybe?), but I was able to run, the nail did not turn black, and I can grip with it.
After lunch, we headed off to our gig in Breckenridge, where they apparently had more snow.
Here's some news: altitude matters for wind players. Holy hell! My reeds felt kind of stiff, but not awful, in Denver (5,280 feet). Breckenridge's altitude (9,600 feet) was tough! It felt like I had popsicle sticks on my mouthpieces instead of reeds, and the solo I played at soundcheck felt like my sinuses were going to explode from the back pressure. I actually looked inside my tenor to see if there was something stuck inside.
I warmed up a ton and felt better by the time we started the gig, but geez. Maybe I should pack some softer reeds next time we come through here.
Other than that, nice room! The place holds 750 people; I'd guess there were 400 people?
The hotel sells oxygen bottles. How crazy is that?
We woke up Sunday morning to six inches of fresh powder. Wow! It made for a tricky journey back down the mountain to the Denver airport. Hard to believe that I was snorkeling in the Bahamas six days ago.
