Happiness isn't something you experience; it's something you remember.Oscar Levant (1906 - 1972)

There are times that are good. Very, very good. Last night was one of these nights. I was settling in to my usual routine of nighttime television and couch surfing when a friend of mine called up to say that he was heading downtown to catch The Del McCoury Band. At first I was leery; it is the end of the month and I don't have much money, I already have my pants off, there was a Cops marathon, for God's sake. Excuse, excuses abound. However, this friend of mine is a very forceful character and not one to take no for an answer. In fact I am almost absolutely sure that he can't actually hear the word "no." I think he somehow shut off those synapses in his head. So the answer to my excuses was a light-hearted, "I'll be at your place in 10 minutes, I have a six pack of Bud, and I'll need to piss. Get your pants on." You can't argue with logic like that.

Thank Crom for pushy friends. As we are roaring down the streets of downtown Chattanooga in his beat up '83 Dodge pick-up, covertly drinking Budweiser (I don't recommend drinking & driving, kids; it is a dangerous and irresponsible thing to do. That said, all the rules change when you're heading to a bluegrass show. Or to a strip bar in Panama City, oddly enough.), and I ask how much I will owe him for my ticket. In my thinking, if you call someone up and insist that they are going to see a show with you, you have a ticket on you that are going to waste unless you find a warm body to take it. Not so much. "Just walk in like you know what you're doing," he says. I have no problem sneaking into shows; I've done it plenty of times. Granted these shows we usually in over-priced or under-staffed venues where the worst that could happen is a bouncer telling you to scram. Granted, you'll occasionally run into the overly zealous, 'roid-head bouncer that will take it as a personal offence that you are trying to get in to someplace without paying. These guys are usually the types who want nothing better than a fight to break out and I've actually seen pouting at the end of a night because nothing happened. I've bounced for a living before, and I've seen this first hand. However, this wasn't my problem with sneaking in to see Del. My problem was that he was playing at a very nice theater her in town called the Tivoli. I knew there would be no bouncers, but I guessed there would be ticket takers. My friend, who had admittedly been drinking bourbon & sodas all afternoon while attempting to convince a Chili's waitress she desperately needed to see The Del McCoury band with him (I was actually about 4th or 5th down the line to go), was not in the mood to be told that he couldn't see Del by some guy in a tux out front of a theater. I saw this going the way of the police, and I was trapped in the Storm's grasp.

It is interesting how a bit of danger can make an experience sweeter. As it turned out, we got there just as the band was finishing their second number and there was no one watching the door. In we slipped, greeted by the sound of "Nashville Cats" floating out of the auditorium. The balcony was nearly empty; the band was amazingly traditional with a sound tighter than any other bluegrass I have heard before. This isn't surprising as the fiddle, mandolin, and banjo players are all national champions, and that Del McCoury is one of those rare living legends that we sometimes get to catch. This was bluegrass that sounded like it just walked out of the 1930's. It was mainly improv, requests from the audience that Del would say, "Alright, we'll play that one first, that one second and then that one" as the band smoothly retuned their instruments to the new key. The songs came fast and rollicking as well as slow and sweet. My friend, systematically going through the last three Buds he had snuck in with him and singing happily, although badly, along with every song, kept on slapping me on the knee and yelling in my ear, "ain't this the best." It really was, it really was.

As we driving back to my house, somewhere in between stopping for more beer (not my idea, but I was happy for the 2 left with me at my house as bedtime beers) and when my friend roll down his window and started serenading the city streets, I was encompassed with a great felling. This feeling was something akin to accomplishment. I had seen something that I never thought I would see, and something few people would see although more people should. I felt connected, like my experiences were unique and special. I felt like I had just experienced something I will remember. I hope I can keep it up, without getting in too much trouble.