San Diego, CA – “First Day of a New Tour” -The Casbah – June 13, 2000

With nothin’ but a skimpy six-day turnaround between tours, there wasn’t enough nighttime to make up for lost sleep. I didn’t even bother calling my best friend Laura when I got back to Boulder. There wasn’t adequate time to catch up. I didn’t even bother unpacking. I merely threw laundry in the wash and back in my bag.

The ride out to the left coast was filled with desert and dust and heatwaves and trees that looked like disfigured monsters against a sunsetting red horizon, and empty candy wrappers and empty minds attached to wandering eyes.

I drove the first day, to Vegas (baby). The boys were going to sleep on the way but were too amped up for a night in Sin City. They couldn’t shut up about it.
“Man, when I get to Vegas I’m gonna be like ‘Hit me bra, cha-ching!!!’”
“When I get to Vegas, I’m gonna ride the roller coaster on the top of that top-of-that-building, who’s coming with me?”
“Vegas, Vegas, Vegas…”
“Who’s coming to the nudie bar? Who’s gonna race me to the blackjack table? Who’s gonna stay out all night????” ….

Apparently no one. The minute we got into Vegas, the lights sucked all the energy right out of us and we were asleep by ten.
We made it to San Diego a whole day before our Casbah gig and when Rick Fagan, the head of artist relations at Taylor Guitars (no relation to me), called to see about getting tickets, he (probably unwisely) invited us to stay at his place instead of The Day’s Inn where we were booked.

“You sure?” I asked realizing most people don’t know what they’re getting into, asking a band to spend the night…. Sprawling, snoring bodies, messy bathrooms, dishes, late night arrivals and late afternoon departures.
“Yeah, I mean we don’t have many beds but you’re welcome to the couch and the inflatable mattresses in the kitchen… just make yourselves at home,” he said and thus we moved our lives from the back of the van, into Rick Fagan’s house. His beautiful wife, Cindy made us chicken and rice with walnut raspberry salad and we sat out on their porch talking music business, and working our way into a food coma as the sun wedged itself between the land and clouds.

The Casbah was as we remembered it—dark as a shadow at midnight. As the opening band played, people filed in and the boys helped me dig through my suitcase to pick an appropriate outfit. The gig was great. The place was packed and back at Rick’s crib, at 3 am, Cindy set us a table of home-baked crumb cake and freshly cut cantaloupe. There is nothing better than tasting freshly cut cantaloupe at 3 am after a gig. Really!!!! We fell on the Fagen’s hospitality like savages, laughed and danced, and probably made too much noise, sorry Rick, but we were just so grateful to be at (a) home.

There weren’t enough sleeping areas to go around and so I shared a space with Delucchi. I could hear his soft breathing as I tucked under a blanket next to him and we tumbled off to sleep.

I love my life.