Chapter Twenty Five Planes, Trains, Busses, Automobiles and Cheese A Winter Weekend on the East Coast January 2005 by Amy Bob

Wednesday 1/5/05: Los Angeles/Chicago/Hartford/Worcester

You can't fly direct to Hartford from LA or San Francisco, and that's where Richard and I are headed.

But this is the day 600 flights, most of which go through O'Hare, are cancelled due to a massive snow and ice storm. My 6:30 am American bird to O'Hare is loaded up when they announce our new wheels up time: 8:50am. Sitting on the runway, I call Richard, who answers the phone, "I know exactly where you are and what you're doing!" My normal inability to sleep on planes (can't sleep sitting up) is bypassed as I have miraculously snagged an exit row window, nice and cool, and I wake up drooling on the tray table around 7:45, at which point we are cleared to take off.

The connection in Chicago too, is delayed, so I sit in a food court returning phone calls as customer service counters become frenzied hives of frustration. My pal Cindy Bourquin (of awesome vocal jazz sextet Sixth Wave) and I yak about possible replacements for their departing alto as I experience a "Chicago flatbread salad" (Lettuce with tomatoes, red onions, cheddar and crackers. Quelle oversell! Cindy laughs.) She's a breathtaking singer - I could literally listen to her sing the phonebook. How I wish I could also sing with Sixth Wave... but as I tell Cindy, I'm not ready to give up the title of "best female singer in the group." : )

I finally get to Hartford around 6:45pm, 2 hours and 15 minutes after both Richard and I were scheduled to land. Robert "Fig" Newton, producer of the DVD we were coming to edit, fetches me at the terminal at 8pm and we head into Windsor Locks, the strip of businesses about two miles from Bradley Airport, to find dinner and wait for Richard's plane. I have stayed on this strip-o-travel-stuff many times with The Bobs and with Alex, whose folks live in Amherst, Mass. Our editing schedule (start tonight, finish tomorrow) is pretty much toast at this point since Worcester is about 75 minutes away or more in the snow, which is now happily floating earthward here in Connecticut. Over an overpriced, semi-yum dinner, Fig and I discuss other films at his MassBay Film Project, for which The Bobs might do a tune. Richard calls around 10. Two flights he was on sat on runways for hours, both ultimately cancelled. He is stuck in Chicago. Fig and I head up to Worcester. I feel just terrible for Richard - someone was watching over me today but HIS guardian angel was asleep at the wheel!

As we pull into the Crowne Plaza, I fondly recall the week we spent here rehearsing for the filming of this concert (in November 2003 - see the Bob Tale, Rhapsody in Bob). This time I score a Priority Club room loaded up with foofy stuff - a CD for "sleep enhancement" (gee, that could be almost ANY band on almost ANY radio station today), eye mask, "lavender linen spray." I have some sort of survivor's guilt having actually gotten here, just thinking about Richard. I don't sleep a wink under the comfy covers!

Thursday, 1/6/05: Worcester/Hartford/New York

Fig fetches me at 9:30 and we head over to the editing house in the snow. The whole city is blanketed. It's kind of cool. I'm barreling back to my Boston years, trudging home in the slush from the Davis Square T after a long day at Berklee, singing "Body and Soul." I yearn to live, once more, in a place where it snows. I never thought I'd say that after 4 years in Syracuse. I don't miss THAT kind of snow but I do miss... I dunno... the sad, romantic feel of a snowfall. The way you're cold but not cold, the quiet wonder of it all. The orangey sky under suburbia streetlights, the way it covers any ugly and gives you a profound sense of hope. Sledding and sliding, straining to hear those treasured words on the radio the next morning: SNOW DAY.

+ = Richard will not make it into Hartford until 2pm, although he was back at O'Hare at 7am... So I'll be doing the Franken-edit solo - selecting the best parts of two takes of "Rhapsody in Bob" from the Novemver concert footage for Fig's forthcoming DVD The Bobs Remain the Same. This is actually OK since I've already done the groundwork and know this piece like the back of my hand. The edit goes very smoothly - Pete LaPriore's dexterity with Final Cut Pro being a primary factor - THANKS, DUDE!

Since Amtrak sucked so major league on the last trip, Robert suggested the bus to NY, so he drops me at the Greyhound station. After Hartford, the bus expresses to NYC. Richard cabs over from Bradley to the Hartford Greyhound station and we finally meet there at 6pm. He's understandably exhausted and sleeps the whole way to NYC! The bus ride is oddly soothing... we barrel down rainy 91, then rainy 95. I've driven all of these highways so many times. Now I float above them in the dark, dazed and half-asleep, leaning over my carryon and coat, as odd clumps of Northeast forest on the sides of the highway bear silent witness to the whooshing traffic. Glistening snowbanks on the shoulder, ripe for tramplage that noone will actually disturb. Twinkling Christmas lights on houses just beyond the thin lines of trees. Hi, don't mind me, bulleting past your backyard in the grey wetness. I want to write about the woozy sadness I am struck by but can't find the right words.

Port Authority has cleaned up SO MUCH in the past 20 years - I'll say that much. But life's rich pageant (LRP for short) greets us upon arrival! Richard and I part company - he's off to Dan's brother's place in Queens, I'm headed uptown. The wheelaboard clacks and clunks over the subway stairs. I put the MetroCard I have from my last trip into the machine and it comes up empty. Ha! Probably revenge for all the empty MetroCards I've unwittingly given friends over the years! A young German tourist offers me his $21 Unlimited Ride MetroCard with four days left on it for $5. He's leaving town and doesn't need it anymore. "How do I know it's really for unlimited rides?" He looks honest enough... I ask where he's from. He says "Near Stuttgart." I ask the name of the town. "Schwabisch Hall." Alex's mother grew up there - I've been there several times - so I accept this as a sign that he's for real, hand him $5 and wish him safe travels. (He was for real - and I'll use this card a lot both today and Monday.) Cool stuff like this happens when you travel - you follow small hunches, can't quantify it, and it's beyond explanation. Gotta love it.

Uptown I dump my stuff then head out for a bite to eat with my host. Joe is the father I never had - a former Broadway musical director turned educator and my chief mentor at Syracuse, the person who first steered me towards writing, comedy, and all the things eventually I ended up doing. We catch up over soup and salad, I show him some cool pix from my Iceland trip this fall with Alex, and trade bad jokes. His apartment is blissfully cool and quiet, and although I don't sleep until about 3am, I don't wake up until 10:30!

Friday 1/7/05: New York/The Berkshires

A quick breakfast at a local diner, then back downtown to rehearse for our Monday showcase of "Rhapsody in Bob." It's the weekend of the annual APAP conference, a huge national (and some international) gathering of fine arts bookers, promoters, managers, agents, etc. Some presenters literally book their entire seasons based on these conventions, so showcasing new material here can be very helpful to an artist. CAMI Hall, the venue, is literally across from Carnegie Hall - Matthew says he told the cabbie, "Carnegie Hall!" then sprinted across the street giggling when they arrived. Bob Malone is meeting us here to run everything in the hall several times. Sound and lighting techs John, Guy and Brenda are fabulous, quick and complete pros - we are in good hands. The rehearsal goes very well, and we meet on and off with our agent, whose office is just outside the recital hall, discussing Europe, a new CD, our Christmas show, and various projects.

Matthew dines with friends and Richard, Dan and I head for Carmine's, for a wondrously garlic-filled dinner. (See the October 2001 Bob Tale Autumn Adventures ). Later, as we climb up the Taconic Parkway with the leftovers percolating in the backseat, we discuss possible cover tunes to add to the set. Dan's recommended Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla," which I will only do if Matthew agrees to lurch across the stage crushing cardboard towns. I am working on an arrangement of Tom Petty's "Freefallin" for myself on lead; Richard says he thinks it's a good challenge as it's so laid back. His new lead will be Spike Jones's "I Was A Teenage Brain Surgeon." Suddenly, the local NPR music program DJ announces that since many of the requests she had tonight were artists named Bob, she is going to close the show with a track from The Bobs. Janie Bob's lead on "White Room" pounds the airwaves, fading as we climb into the mountains...

The only place open in Pittsfield, Massachusetts is "A Mart" (conveniently enough), where we stock up on water, snacks, etc. and I pick up a copy of the Berkshire Eagle. We're on the front page. Dan Bob is so impressed he bobbles his bags-o-snax at the checkout counter. "Hey, that's me!" I muse that there really must be nothing else going on here this weekend for THAT to happen! We all have huge suites here for two nights, yay! Of course that doesn't ensure sleep: I am still up until 3, have a nightmare and move to the livingroom, falling asleep on the couch from 4 until 11:30AM. I will not be able to kick over to Eastern time this tour for some reason - it's all going to be like this... life on the road...

Saturday 1/8/05: Berkshire Winter Wonderland

Dan is unroustable, but Richard, Matthew and I brave the winter wonderland outside to raid a local diner for hearty omelettes and not so hearty coffee. Matthew, in his Australian Duster coat and Russian hat, looks completely out of place, crossing North Street in downtown Pittsfield, Mass. It reminds me of our pals The Flying Karamazov Brothers, who often do not blend into their surroundings - they just look different. Theatrical. When Matthew starts getting visibly irked about the lack of French roast available (genetics, combined a Seattle mortgage have turned him coffee wacky - see 3/5/2000 of the Bob Tale, I Bob, Therefore I-95), I turn to Richard and say, in an irony-free voice, "He's gonna get beat up." He replies, "Yep."

I read e-mails from folks I did a project for in Washington, DC last week, talk to Alex, laze around and watch the Weather Channel. A local snow emergency is declared in Pittsfield. Will the sold out show actually be sold out?

Yes! Bobs fans (and Pittsfielders) cannot be deterred by a little Berkshire frosting. In a lovely little auditorium surrounded by reptile exhibits and geologic wonders, we igneous rock the Berkshire Museum audience to within an inch of their radioactive half-lives. We premiere "My, I'm Large" with Dan, the Tallest Bob Ever, appropriately taking the lead and immediately making it his own. We'll be adding a lot of old Bobs gems back into the set in the coming months, as well as a bunch of all new tunes and cover arrangements for the Rhapsody show. A fan just sent me an old mp3 of Janie singing "Beluga" - that's on the list.

The snow has stopped by the time the show is over, but I'm betting that, down in Pawling, Phil (owner of the Towne Crier, a longtime Bobs staple in NY state) is burying his head in his hands. Every time we play there, a weather event occurs - an ice storm, blizzard or torrential rain. Hopefully the clearing will last.

Sunday 1/9/05: Berkshires/Pawling, NY/NJ suburbs

Brunch at Dakota's in Lee, Mass. is indeed a Mass. experience. Hugeness abounds. And I don't just mean the stuffed bear in the lobby. We wind down Route 7 through charming small towns, noting the modern, tech businesses alongside more traditional New England sites. It reminds me of Europe in that way - how you'll see a Benetton next to a cathedral that dates back to the Middle Ages. Not all progress is for the better. And the source of the odd smell is the car is traced to the Carmine's leftovers - apparently Dan forgot to take them out of the car all weekend!

We stop to admire Phil's house over coffee (down, Matthew!) once we get to the Pawling area, then retrieve Bob Malone from the train station before heading to the Towne Crier. (And yes, the weather is clear all day.) We rehearse Rhapsody after soundcheck, then I sit down briefly for dinner with my friend Michael. The kitchen here usually serves the band a big meal that may or may not be on the menu - I ask for just a simple salad but head chef Andrew prepares a beautiful, tasty treat. They are too nice to us here.

Bob Malone opens, wowing the crowd as usual with his monster piano chops and cool tunes. Particularly awesome is his rendition of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," recently released as a holiday EP. (Go hear it at www.bobmalone.com!) Our one long set includes a revival of "You Can't Do That" (I told you we were bringing back vintage Bobs arrangements), Dan's second go at "My, I'm Large" (even larger!) and a particularly long and wanky "Prisoner of Funk," which I must say I am having a blast singing. I don't have that many uptempo tunes in the set these days, and Dan's super-charged funk shui is propelling that tune straight into Slyness. After the show, we talk about adding a Pawling date to the 2.5 week already and growing April tour. Looks like we'll find a way to do it. I'm hoping that noone gets sick during that run - it's gonna be a killer.

Michael lives way out in Bergen County, NJ with his wife and two kids. Although I'm staying out there tonight, it works out well, since the Bobs rental car is small and Malone is riding with the guys back to NYC. I sit on the hump too many times as it is!

Monday 1/10/05: NJ suburbs/New York

Out in NJ, I sleep surprisingly well. When we got there I told Michael, "If you don't hear from me by 10am, enter the tomb," and that's what happens. His kids call me Auntie Macassar, after a character on the show Big Comfy Couch. Per one of the websites about the show: "Auntie Macassar is Loonette's globe-trotting aunt. Although she travels far and wide, she always remembers Loonette with postcards, packages, and letters. Auntie Macassar's funny cards usually impart some new-found wisdom she has acquired in her travels, and reminds Loonette and the viewers alike that the world is full of diversity and adventure." Pretty cool, eh? Now if I could only remember where I put that wisdom...Sadly, Michael's eldest daughter is sick today (although I sound more like Mothra this morning than she does), and the little goofy one's in school (I left her an equally goofy present a la Auntie Macassar- an Icelandair moist towelette!).

Sadly, this isn't a real social visit - these days I need an entire week East for that kind of thing - and I'm already breaking my no-staying-with-friends-during-tours rule. If you've never read my stories, I'm not diva-ing out here - it's an exhausting privilege to be a touring performer - but you've got to preserve your energy and voice (for The People!), and when you stay with friends the temptation to yak and laugh all night is just too great. So if I have to do so I stay with folks who totally get it, most of whom have been on tour themselves. Oh - and you really can't chance being around sick people. Period. There's only so much Emergen-C one can drink!

There is time today for a treat, however....Michael and I head into NY for lunch at Bistro Moderne, where he goes way ape over a burger with a layer of black truffles. I gotta say here and now that I just don't get it. They look like moldy frosted flakes and taste like a combination of potato chips, swiss cheese and... nothing. $70 for a layer of these "delicacies" atop a hamburger? That better include something great... like cleaning my bathrooms! Despite the fact that I can deftly identify the composition of aged dairy products (and will do so tomorrow) I simply cannot taste the supposed big deal that is a truffle. It's just like that Star Trek episode "The Trouble with Truffles". My lobster salad is lovely, though. So thanks, Michael!

I cab uptown to the Newton, a hotel on 94th and Broadway that I'm liking more and more each time. It's a block away from the 2/3 train, the internet rates are great and since it's so far uptown, it is really, really quiet. With many factors in play on tour in terms of sleeping or not, quiet needs to be a given. I may not sleep at all, but if there's noise it's a total wipeout from the beginning and extremely frustrating. The nice guy at the desk (named Alex, an obvious hint) tosses me a free upgrade to a suite, way bigger than the usual rooms.... How nice!!! I try for a nap and get about 20 minutes... then Alex calls with some great news about his script (which I can't write about yet!)... so that's that. A long shower helps with the vocal scratchiness and exhaustion before I head downtown. Dan is standing at the corner where I emerge from the subway, so we heed the Starbucks siren call. Sugar free vanilla latte for me, baybee. Then it's upstairs to CAMI Hall to prep for the showcase.

The showcase is a smash. "Rhapsody" goes VERY well, even generating laughs in the right places. The sales staff and promoters in the audience are really responsive and we couldn't be happier. I talk to folks from places as diverse as Maui and Iowa about playing there (and anywhere else with four letter names.... Um.... Can we please go to Anch(orage), too?) and buzz with our agent about upcoming stuff. Matthew and I print boarding passes for tomorrow in their offices (he's going home , I'm going to Florida to visit relatives).

Richard, Dan and I head out to Heartland Brewery with Dan's brothers and their wives and girlfriends for a terrific, well-earned chilling out. I happily down two Cosmopolitans as we discuss how cute our respective cats are, singing classically (his brothers also sing) and gourmet chocolate. Afterwards, I head back to the hotel, smiling, utterly content with the whole evening. The Weather Channel sez LA is almost in the clear - it's been deluged with rain... I find the Daily Show, yay... but don't sleep until 4:30. The saga continues.

Tuesday 1/11/05: New York/Cheese/Descent Into Sneezeville

My pal Joe meets me in the lobby at noon and we head to.... ARTISANAL, OF COURSE! (see Bob Tale Rhapsody in Bob for extended rhapsodairyizing) Like I could be in New York for more than 24 hours and miss it! Joe owes me a birthday lunch here. Last Thursday I told him, "This will be the best lunch you will ever have with me - you will both weep openly and pay the check under a spell of extreme lacto-joy." Was it true? WHADDAYA THINK!!!!!

The linger of the Artisanal experience - the Brillat Savarin and Bleu des Basques - sustains me through the rest of the day - even though Delta Airlines cancels my flight, rebooks me without notice, puts me in the middle seat of the last row of my NEW flight to Atlanta, and ultimately loses my bag overnight. And I am about to discover that I am allergic to Florida in January.

AH, THE ENDLESS GLAMOUR!!!!

(c) 2005 Amy Bob Engelhardt