| Austin, Texas / January 2004 |
| We're in Austin for three days, so we hit the Motel 6 and get separate rooms. We do separate rooms whenever possible and practical in order to stay out of each other's way for a awhile, know what I mean? You can only talk about rock & roll, movies and books for so many hours a day. Ed knows people in Austin, he lived there in the mid-90's, got signed to the Mercury Records deal there. (Hey, how would you stop the spread of Aids? Have Mercury distribute it. - Hamell On Trial.) I know nobody in Texas, so when there's a knock on my door about seven o'clock our first evening I assume it's Ed. Instead of a bald rocker, however, I'm greeted by a middle-aged black woman who asks me if Ray is in. I tell her there's no Ray here, she must have the wrong room, she mumbles an apology and leaves. A little while later she knocks again, mumbles on about how she couldn't find Ray's room and says some other stuff I can't make out through her slow, quiet Texas drawl. After some further confusion I eventually ascertain that she's offering me something she calls "the Special" (pronounced "Spatial") for 50 bucks. "Oh, no, no, no." I stammer out when I finally decipher her mushmouthed proposal. "25 dollars?" she bargains as I close the door in her face. The next morning at breakfast I mention the encounter to Ed and he perks up. "Fifty-ish African American woman, looking for Ray, offering the Spatial for 50 bucks?" We're simultaneously proud and sad at our naivete, thinking we were unique and that there really was a guy named Ray in a forgotten room. All Material © 2004 by Ric Cacchione, all rights reserved. |