I would never dare to call myself a musician. I'm pretty well rounded, and so a lot of different things, but I don't really excel at any of them.
But I keep three guitars in my office at work, and some of the slow hours have been passed with a tune or two, and occasionally a few of my coworkers pop in for some pickin' and singing.
I also play occasionally with a former client, who was kind enough to invite me to a few Friday night jam sessions, in which four or five of us do round robins by taking turns selecting songs and showing the others the chord progressions.
So I was surprised on Friday morning last week to learn that we had the opportunity to play at a little local hangout on the west side of Newnan. Although I was a bit apprehensive about both my skill level and going into an unfamiliar place, I thought "what the heck" and agreed to go.
The tavern we played at was one of those places that you drive by a thousand times but would never dare to go in alone. It was a little hole-in-the-wall cinder block building with peeling paint a few illuminated neon beer signs and a gravel parking area just in front of the building.
I walked uo to the entrance nervously and pulled the door open, and five or six faces seated around the aged and smoke-cured plywood bar immediately turned towards me and made eye contact. The dark and deteriorating ambience was a like a 1950's movie-set, with an old Route 66 aura of surrealism.
For some reason Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps" popped into my mind as time froze for an instant as I met each gaze. But the stalemate that seemed to last for an eternity was actually broken in a few seconds with a round of hearty welcomes as each individual offered the hand of friendship accompanied by a warm smile and an introduction!
In five minutes, we were all good friends. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the "band" showed up, and we spent the next four hours picking and caterwauling and having a grand old time.
I don't know if the inexpensive beer actually made the music better, or if it just made the music SOUND better, but as the evening woreon the camaraderie escalated and it was more like a family reunion than a public gathering.
Soon, everyone was singing together, like an English Pub, and laughing and crying and having the times of their lives! I even noticed one or two dancing on occasion! As long as one person knew all the words, the others would follow!
When I finally left early on Sunday morning, these salt of the earth good people all shook my hand again, told me how much they appreciated me playing for them, and asked me to please come back.
You bet I will!
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