Tips from Tunisia

Wrapping up a couple of weeks in Tunisia, where, among other things, I took a Star Wars tour. Specifically, this one: https://www.tourradar.com/t/154446 through a company called Saraharansky, but more on that another day; just a few photos for now.

The tour covered quite a bit of the country, as the starting point is in the north and most filming locations are in the south. All told, it as six days and five nights and I had both a tour guide and a driver. The tour was billed as a group tour and the company told me it wouldn’t go unless there were at least two people. I wound up being the only one.

The dilemma became what to do about a tip. Americans are the biggest tippers in the world; for now 20 percent is minimum, but I’m not in America, or even a place frequented by American tourists. (When it becomes clear I speak no French, more times than not, I’m asked if I’m German.) Tipping 20 percent on a tour package is a freaking huge number, and it’s never clear if it’s that amount total or that amount for the guide and the driver.

In other parts of the world, tipping just isn’t done or is minimal, like if your taxi ride costs 19.80 taxi ride, you’d give a 20 and leave the change. I really didn’t know where Tunisia stood on the whole tipping thing, so I turned to internet searches. It didn’t help.

Here’s an example of the information out there. It’s from one site under the heading “Should you tip your tour guide?” Under it, there’s a huge headline that says “Don’t tip,” then there’s the following:

“Hotels and professional travel organisations arrange group tours for all tastes tipping tour guides is unnecessary. If, on the other hand, you’re the adventurous type and you want to hire your own driver come tour guide, then you’re going to have to negotiate prices directly. Your hotel is a good resource for estimates regarding what a particular trip might cost and, if all goes well, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t add an extra 20 to 50 dinar for the ride of your life.”

Otherwise, tipping isn’t necessary, but you can do it anyway. Other sites yielded equally unhelpful information. One would say don’t tip, another would say absolutely. Amounts varied. “Between 5-10 dinars a day or more.” Yeah, that’s helpful. “It’s not expected, but do it anyway.” One said only to pay in Tunisian currency and another suggested Euros.

One of the guides pointed out the daily salary for tour guides and then turned around and suggested tipping an amount that was more than that. This is what happens on the Internet – everyone’s an expert and in the end, no one knows what the heck is happening in real life. One site, I think it was the one linked above, clearly copied and pasted from a separate entry, because on the Tunisia page, one section started, “In Morocco …” Yeah, there’s credibility on the Internet

When you just want to do the right thing, it’s never easy. I also had the dilemma that I’d signed up for a group tour, so this poor guy normally would be making more tips had more people signed up. Do I compensate for that? OTOH, I paid extra because I was single (damn single supplement!). But from a different perspective, I got a private tour at a group rate. What to do?

The night before I left the last tour hotel, I sat down with a calculator and ran some numbers, putting aside two piles. I hope I did the right thing. The guide was amazing. The driver was nice but on the last drive back (which was after I’d set aside the tip money), he took a wrong turn, insisting a road was finished. The tour guide told him it wasn’t and not to go that way, but he did anyway, and guess what? The road was not finished. (Cue “Speed”: “It’s finished on the map!” “I guess they fell behind.”) We wound up off-roading in a minivan and had to double back more times than I cared to count. It probably added two hours to the total drive time.

Anyway, I’m parked at an AirBnB on La Marsa beach now and head back tomorrow. Yesterday was another full day on Cap Bon, meaning I’ve pretty much seen all of this country, which I really like. By the time we hit the medina yesterday, though, I was whipped. I’ve no room in my suitcase and just couldn’t handle all the “come into my store, no pressure to buy” from every single shop owner.

My days in Tunis – six days before the tour and four on the back end – have been spent on little day trips with a guide the hotel set me up with. (Since he was an independent contractor, I didn’t tip.) We did Carthage, Dougga and then Cap Bon. I’m done. Today is the dentist and tomorrow I’m headed out.

More on Star Wars later.

An R&R in ruins

 

It’s a great time to get a break from work. Since our people are mostly coming in on charter flights, we just got 10 of them, including my new bosses. The old bosses are still there, too, plus among the 10 there’s another senior person in my section and an additional deputy. Basically just layers and layers of people, and everyone has some kind of onboarding issue. That’s not their fault, of course, but trying to get one person lined up to receive a shipment while working on another’s email and yet another’s Teams account while simultaneously trying to get another couple of bosses out … it was just a good time to squeeze in R&R No. 2. I’m due three, but ran out of time.

But this time, I didn’t want to go far and opted for Tunis, which is a nonstop from Amman. Really, that’s how I landed on it. I just didn’t want to go more than four hours. It came down to this or London, which I figured would be far more expensive and a lot more lonely with just me. On this one, I am joining a tour on Monday and I’m also meeting a colleague tomorrow, so it’s not bad.

Today, I had a doctor appointment (gotta do these on R&R!) and just went to the mall afterwards. I wanted a real meal – I’m eating in the hotel lounge while I can – but couldn’t find a table to just park it and eat. I wound up finding a mostly empty table and kind of motioned to guy sitting there that I just wanted to sit and eat. He was too bewildered, I’m sure, to brush me off. I mean, some random tourist in a goofy hat just sits down and starts to eat. I’m sure he had no clue.

After I had been eating a fast-food meal from a Lebanese place – schwarma and hummus – for a little, a lady sat down with the guy. In broken English, she asked where I was from and I told her I was American. We wound up chatting – a little English, a little Arabic and a little French – for over an hour and a half! It was so much fun. She is from Libya and moved to Tunis for cancer treatment. The guy is her brother – one of three – and he has three kids; she married at 14 and has six! They were killing time before a doctor’s appointment and just hanging out. (It was maybe 1 p.m. and her appointment was at 4.) At one point, her mom called and I heard her say something about eating with an American, so I popped up behind her and photobombed the call. It made her day. Before that, they’d done a round of selfies.

It was just a totally random thing to do and was the absolute highlight of my day, and theirs, too. I mean, even if I hadn’t been coming from a doctor appointment and they hadn’t been heading to one, it would have still been the highlight. Something so insignificant as strangers sitting down together and talking. I had a great time.

Yesterday was more of a tourist day. I got a driver and did Carthage! Wow. I am so at home in ruins. I love this part of the world. I went to the amphitheater, which is still in use. The tour guide said he saw James Brown perform there, and there was some kind of event going on that evening. The “good seats” had cushions laid out – colorful rugs over a section of seats.

Oh man, the rugs. I do not need any more, but man, I love them. I already found one that I am still thinking about, which is not a good sign. It’s gray with Berber designs. Unfortunately, he has the same design in many shapes. I bet I could fit it in somewhere, but I don’t need to get another. I need to stay strong.

The Roman baths were phenomenal, too. Gosh, I wandered around forever. My driver guy probably thought I was insane. He was a great guide and I might see if he can take me somewhere else on Sunday. Saturday the plan is to visit the American cemetery – WWII – which I did not know existed until yesterday. The driver gave me a drive-by yesterday and it’s pretty moving. Tomorrow I’m headed to another set of Roman ruins, which are the largest in Africa.

Despite doing little to no planning, this is coming together all right.

Positively doing time

Don’t tell anyone, but I just took my trash out. The garbage room is maybe 50 steps outside my apartment door, down to the right. I also grabbed a couple of Vanity Fairs that were lying on the free table. But please keep it a secret.

I’m in jail and cannot leave my apartment until Tuesday. I tested positive. Crap! 

Somehow, this is my first go-round with COVID, and it hit me like a truck. I felt fine until Tuesday night, but I still didn’t think anything of it. I NyQuil’d myself to death and felt better Wednesday morning, so I went to spin class. Right now, the spin class consists of me and the instructor, who happens to be one of our nurses.

Came home, showered and ate breakfast. Business as usual. I was dressed for work and even had my bag over my shoulder when I got hit by a truck. It was mostly exhaustion. I took my temperature and was shocked that it was pretty high, but I figured it was a mistake. I gave it a few minutes and took it again, and it had gone up.

Since I figured it had to be COVID, I felt I owed it to the spin class instructor to warn her, because, although we were more than six feet apart and in a giant room, she would have been my closest contact. And since she was the nurse, she came over and tested me. At that point my fever had started to come down – it hit about 102.5 – but I was still exhausted. The nurse asked me why I still dressed for work, and it was simply because I was too tired to change. I couldn’t even pick up the remote.

I worked from home, which was a bummer because last night was my boss’s going-away party. The bigger boss is leaving and was giving all the big bosses send-offs, and last night was my boss’s turn. I was bummed to miss it. Although someone brought me take-out, we were giving him going-away gifts and I wanted to be a part of that.

Instead, I crawled into bed at 7 p.m., which was the same time the party started. I guess it went well; I haven’t heard, and I haven’t eaten the take-out. Really, I haven’t eaten much. I haven’t lost my taste but so far I have zero appetite, which seems strange because I am hungry.

Fortunately, I still have plenty of food in my apartment. I’ve found lots of pasta on the free table, plus some quinoa. The freezer also has a couple meals, so hopefully I’ll make it till Tuesday. If I change my mind, though, I can always ask someone to bring me something from the cafeteria.   

Mostly, though, it’s just going to be fighting boredom. I mean, I have work to do, but tomorrow is the weekend. I have no idea what I am going to do to stay busy. I guess it will probably be streaming, because there’s really nothing else to do. I can’t even go outside and walk around the compound.

This place is already like a minimum-security prison, and now I am in solitary confinement.

Yeah. It’s hot. It’s July. What did I expect, right?

 

Happy Independence Day!

Happy America’s birthday from The 100 Acre Sandbox. We had a congressional visitor, which is when someone who depends on being elected wants to come and take patriotic pictures with military people in uniform.  Even though the U.S. is in Iraq solely in an advisory capacity, we have some teams over here doing other work, like medical stuff and to support the Americans who live in the Sandbox. We gathered in our lovely dining facility, where our cafeteria employees went all-out and laid out a great menu, including mock Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. They were fantastic, as was the fruit carvings they’d done, like this fantastic watermelon. But our carvers’ talents are not limited to food.

We also had a giant Statue of Liberty, which had caused me to do a double-take earlier in the week. We have stuff stored all over the place in boxes like the back of a semi-truck and, while walking by the cafeteria, I noticed an employee digging through one. Since I figured it had to be food, it was quite surprising to see a big Styrofoam Lady Liberty among the boxes.

In a discussion with some colleagues about the amazingly carved fruit, someone mentioned they’d witnessed someone carving out an Easter bunny out of Styrofoam; we speculated that our cafeteria employees, who are contractors, must have one heck of a weird job description. There are some crazy talented people here – carving up watermelons and giant holiday decorations.

It's hot!

We have a new ambassador over here, which means we said goodbye to our old one. We all loved him, and he was quite active in our monthly 5ks, so, in coming up with the theme of the May one, they named it after him. We get T-shirts for every one we run (or walk – that’s 3k) and in the end, I’m going to wind up making a quilt or something out of them because I’ll have so many, but in the meantime, I am using them for my daily walks or runs. And, as you can see, it’s flippin’ hot here. We’re easily topping 105, but, unlike Florida, it is not humid. The goofy hat I bought in Kazakhstan has served me well thus far and it’s almost impossible to walk outside without shades on. I wake up early to walk the compound 2-3 mornings a week (the others I go to the gym) and it’s gotten to the point where, even though it’s only 40 minutes or so, I have to not only take a water bottle but change shirts when I am done. It’s a leisurely stroll but it’s still brutal.

So there’s a lot of hanging out indoors. This week, I bit the bullet and subscribed to Disney+ for a year, and even with my crappy internet I’ve managed to watch a few things, such as the retro Escape to Witch Mountain and the trendy Hamilton. I’m all over the place.

The retro stuff is a lot of fun; I’ve also tossed The Cat From Outer Space in my queue. I really don’t remember much about it, but once it comes in, it all comes back. It sure did for Witch Mountain.

I’ve also rediscovered MasterMind. With all the discussion of Wordle recently, I started thinking it sounded familiar and remembered that we used to have the little hands-in MM and that I really liked it. Of course, it’s online now, and I’ve taken to playing a game a night. For the most part, I figure them out, but getting started is a lot of luck. Imagine my surprised when I landed on this one evening:

 

Wish I could claim skill.

I’m sure someone can calculate the odds (there are eight colors and four spaces; I don’t repeat any colors, so it’s a finite number, I know) but for me it was like wow, I’ll never see that again.

But a couple weeks later, I won this one:

 

I didn't calculate the odds,
but they're dang long.

Again, I wonder these odds, because I first was 0-for-4. I knew for the second try, I’d be 4-for-4 in colors, but somehow had them in the right order but one spot over from where they should have been. Had I shifted in the other direction, I would have solved it in three, but I’ll take it.

Dust to dust

Temperatures are now topping 100 on a daily basis here in the 100 Acre Sandbox and stepping outside is essentially walking into God’s hairdryer. The heat is a jolt from the office because they are kept at icebox level, to the point where I keep a blanket, thin Nike hoodie and my LL Bean bedroom slippers at my desk.

Early this morning, I wished I’d had the blanket, because I did a 4-hour leg of work that was as boring as watching paint dry, probably because it was literally watching paint dry. One of the offices is being redone with new carpet and paint, and the freshly-painted door had to stand open for 24 hours. Since the office was one that required a security clearance to enter, someone had to guard the door as the paint dried. My shift was at 4 a.m. this morning; it’s been a long day! It wasn’t too bad but I’d worn capris and flipflops and my feet were so cold. I didn’t think to stop by my office and pick up my blanket. Man, I missed it, but overall the shift wasn’t horribly bad; there was a little loveseat and I positioned it where no one could get by me (like there was foot traffic at 4 a.m.) and catnapped.  

The dust storms are getting more and more frequent, too. Everything turns red and visibility stinks. We aren’t allowed to take photos on compound, but the dust storms have been bad enough to make the news, so this is what it looks like, except we don’t have motorcycles, although we do have a lot of people riding bikes and wandering around with grocery bags from the little store here. Due to the dust storms, we’ve had a couple of our flights delayed and we’re told it might happen more frequent this summer. Joy. It’s bad enough we can only get out of here certain days a week; now if we get a dust storm and the flight’s delayed, it really messes up travel plans.

Hopefully, nothing screws up my second R&R, which is only going to be a regional trip. Looking at a trip to Tunisia in August, which is completely the wrong month but the only option available to me. If the Star Wars tour doesn’t go, I’ll just hang out in Tunis for the whole time. Crossing fingers on being able to go. Travel, not just from here, has just gotten so complicated. 

When we’re not on R&R, we have to make our own fun. Today there was a beach party, although I am so messed up from the early morning shift that I skipped it. Last week, we had the most amazing thing ever in a macaroni and cheese cookoff. We have a cafeteria here and it doesn’t occur to me to cook, but there are some who do and about a dozen people entered variants of mac and cheese. Everyone was welcome to taste and judge, and my guess was there were probably close to 75 people who did. The winner was someone who smoked his. (Same guy who routinely BBQs for big parties.)

Not everyone is super social but they still manage to have fun in their own ways. Recently, I noticed someone had put up a notice for a dog that was missing. Since we don’t have pets here – just the occasional stray fox or cat, I moved in for a closer look and discovered that someone had posted a photo of a dog, saying the cute little dog wasn’t really lost, but the person who had posted it was the owner and missed him. It made me smile. I’ve no idea who did it, but obviously someone in this place has a sense of humor.

Sock Hop

At the beginning of March, American Airlines threatened to eradicate all my frequent-flier miles because I haven’t flown them in so long. Somehow, I don’t think it’s possible I haven’t flown them in a couple years, but whatever. My R&R had been canceled in January and I had a flight scheduled but it went kaput and to avoid losing the miles, I placed a $35 order from Walmart.

I felt there was a chance I’d have them by my birthday, and still I wait …

I ordered two bottles of conditioner, which was a mistake because of rules for shipping liquids. It was too much. Still, sometimes they slip through, but after getting a random refund from Walmart, I went to check the order and it appears it got turned around. Oh well, so much for that.

Because, though, nothing is ever shipped together, I am still awaiting a package of socks. These are not special socks; they were just socks enough to push me to the free shipping level. I really didn’t need socks so much as I did $35 in merchandise, and shippers have drastically eliminated things that they’ll ship to me, such as Junior Mints. No dice on candies, so I settled for socks. I think they have polka dots. As of Memorial Day, I have not seen these socks.

The socks, however, have seen the world. In checking their journey so far, they’ve covered more territory than a Flat Stanley. They started near Tampa, then ventured through Chicago, and Cincinnati before heading overseas, where they visited Bahrain before going to Copenhagen and Vilnius. Not finding me there, apparently they decided to head back to home, albeit not in a direct path. They’ve now meandered through their domestic stops again, but the last known update was on April 5.

Yes, life dependent on the diplomatic pouch is as glorious as it seems. I recently feasted on candy corn that had been mis-shipped to someone else; it was supposed to be chocolate. When the customer informed the shipper of the mistake, they told him to keep the candy and assured him he’d get the chocolate. (NOTE: this entire story has taken place in a fairly short time frame that started long after my socks went abroad -- long enough for the candy corn to be eaten, which, admittedly, didn’t take as long as it should have). It eventually arrived, but it was not only wrong, but the box was bashed to heck and had gotten soaking wet somehow. (It had been clearly marked “store in a cool dry place.”) So this is what we overseas put up with for a taste of home.

Hope springs eternal and I’ve just placed a Target order. According to their annoying little happy update messages, they (because there will likely be more boxes than items ordered, go green team!) are scheduled to arrive any moment but in reality, we lose track of everything once it gets thrown into a postal sack and onto a plane bound for overseas. The shipping history mutes; it’s like it’s circled to the dark side of the moon.

The bison's back

Still, one day, I will eventually get mail. It’s always a surprise because by the time the little automated “You’ve got mail!” email arrives, I’ve completely forgotten what I’ve ordered. It’s like Christmas all over again, except Christmas packages usually arrive well past the new year.

It will be a happy day when the socks arrive. (I don’t need them; that’s just how boring my life is right now.) They’ll almost double the number of socks I have, which, sadly has been diminishing. Baghdad is mean on clothes, and I’ve had a couple pairs bite the dust, including cute socks I just got in Belarus.

That made it all the more painful when one of my cool Belarus socks with bison on them disappeared on laundry day. The laundry is down the hall and I traipsed up and down, assuming I’d either left it in the dryer or dropped it, but I could not find it. I’d bring a lot of clothes, and I kept rifling through them, trying to find the little guy. No dice. I’d washed the sheets and convinced myself it had stowed away in the deep pockets, so I double checked there, but it still didn’t appear.

I’ve gotten better about not panicking or freaking out over stupid little things, and, as cool as these socks are, they are stupid little things and I just knew that the little guy had to be somewhere. I kept looking for maybe two weeks and he didn’t turn up and then I went on R&R. I mean, I live in a one-bedroom apartment. There aren’t many places to hide.

Finally, last week, I went to wash my sheets again and when I pulled up the bottom one, there he was. Static cling had gotten him. Guess I should order some dryer sheets.

On second thought, nope. They might wind up in Copenhagen.

Back from the islands

I’m baaack! Well, not quite, but, assuming the COVID test brings good news, I am headed back to Baghdad tomorrow. I won’t get there til Sunday, but I should be en route 24 hours from now.

 

This vacation has been utterly amazing. Logistically, it’s been a nightmare but the payoff has been worth it. After connections in Amman (where I had to get a second COVID test because the airline changed the requirement *that day*) Frankfurt and Houston, I arrived in Cancun on my way to Isla Mujeres. It was my first foray to Mexico, and what a way to go! I went to an event put on by Sam and Gina Densler, who organize music events. They’re nice as can be and have been doing this for years, but this one was a bit different than their norm. See their site: http://www.songwritersisland.com/may-19-island-showcase.html.

 

This show came about when Paul Overstreet, one of my favorite songwriters, had been stuck in the Caymans during the initial COVID lockdown and started doing what became  a Facebook “Sunsets and Songs” little low-key performance, with Julie Overstreet videoing him as he told stories about songs as the sun went down on the island. At some point, either he or his wife asked if people would be interested in attending a little beach show, or series of, and I thought why the heck not? In the end, it got switched from Cayman to Mexico and timed during a time where I could take off, so why not, right?

 

I went and had a blast. There were about 100 people there, and several of the couples were just so awesome to hang out with. I’ve never spent half a day in a pool, but I did there. It was just so relaxing. The people were so nice and the music and stories were just so fun to hear. I mean, I love the guy’s music so I was in hog heaven. The funny thing was, it seems everyone else had attended the little music events there before or knew the Overstreet family personally, whereas I was this random lone chick who showed up from Baghdad, of all places. As host gifts, I’d brought both the Denslers and the Overstreets flags that had been flown over the embassy in Baghdad and both sets were extremely grateful. I was glad because it’s kind of a weird gift, but my options were limited.

 

One afternoon, we had a pool party that was hosted by one of the daughters, Summer, who is in a band called the Chattahoochies. She was phenomenal, too – I told the dad she made some new fans. Her stuff is a bit edgier than his – he’s got “She Only Likes Me for My Willie” but she has “I Take the ‘O’ Out of ‘Country’.” I need to track down some of her singles, because I really enjoyed them. (See if you can find “Itchin’ for a Bitchin’, “I Dodged a Mullet” and “Talledaga 10” to see what I mean.) Another daughter, Sky (there are six kids total, but AFAIK there were only two there), also joined her sister in singing. It was fun to watch the proud parents during the kids’ performances.

 

When the event was over, I headed to Cancun for two nights and had gum surgery (for a mere $800) and went to Chichen Itza. Cancun wasn’t the destination for me – too Vegas-like -- but I liked the ruins. Living in Istanbul does that to you. I’d totally do the same event again, though if I did, I’d aim for Cozumel as a side trip next time, plus coordinate the dentist a bit better.

 

Next up, after a short visit to Tallahassee to see Mackenzie graduate from FSU (but not Jameis Winston, because we left a little early), Leila joined me for a bucket list item of the Key West Songwriters’ festival. I say bucket list item, but at this point, it’s a must-do annually – I had that great of a time. Now, I’m not a Key West partier, but I enjoyed the heck out of the music and atmosphere. I popped in on the free shows here and there – Jeffrey Steele was great – and bought tickets for one show. I’d bought them for Chuck Cannon, barely even realizing it’s set up as having three sets of performers doing an hour show each.

 

We’d found a store that was going out of business or something and had everything for $5, so we dawdled there and arrived halfway through the first show, Trent Tomlinson and Clint Daniels. We’d looked up everyone before hitting the show, but I pretty much forgot what all they had written because there were so many. Each set of performers played so amazingly well off each other. It was fantastic.

 

Chuck Cannon, who had the middle set with Tommy Simms, did a hits medley with most of his ones with Toby Keith plus “The Way You Love Me” and then went to some of his “I wrote this for me, not for others to record” stuff, including something about the fox watching the henhouse. It was great – quite a sing-a-long.

 

And did I mention the seats? I had bought them about an hour into the sale, and somehow I landed a table literally at the stage. At one point, I dropped my phone and was scared that, in trying to pull it back to me, I was going to unplug something necessary. We were so close that I could see a hole in the crotch of someone’s jeans. Leila managed to make eye contact with the middle performer of the third set and motion him for an autograph afterwards. I could see fingernails. It was just that close.

 

The third set of performers – Chris Tompkins, ERNEST (yes, that’s how he writes it) and Craig Wiseman – totally played off each other. ERNEST was freestyling off Tompkins’ stuff and Wiseman dusted them all. He was the “old man” of the group and had so many people record his stuff that he wouldn’t even let the announcer list them all – we would have run out of time before they even started! He did “The Cowboy in Me” (which Jeff Steele had also done) and “Live Like You Were Dying,” which had us all singing along. Tompkins had written (or co-written) Carrie Underwood’s hit “Before He Cheats” and it was pretty amusing to hear that from a guy who had a completely different range than Underwood. It was fantastic.

 

Since I have no idea what is on country music radio now, I hadn’t heard “Flower Shop,” which ERNEST had written (or co-written). Leila – or at least RJ – definitely knew this one, so Leila FaceTimed RJ during it. Then, after ERNEST came right over to sign an autograph for her, Leila FT’d her again and he was nice enough to say hi to her, which totally made her evening, as well as her mom’s.

 

Leila also embarrassed the heck out of me. I couldn’t get tickets to the Scotty Emerick/Dean Dillon paid show and hadn’t noticed there was a free show when I bought the Cannon tickets, so I missed my chance at seeing my No. 1 favorite songwriter perform. We went to the venue before it started, hoping to score a ticket, but at that point there weren’t any available. After venturing to hear some music at other venues, we circled back (Dillon and Emerick were on stage last that evening) and were appalled that people were LEAVING before those two performed. I mean, it was like, hello, this is DEAN DILLON. Yeah, Emerick is my favorite, but Dean Dillon is a flippin’ legend. Anyone leaving before that set should turn in their country music lover card.

 

But we still had no tickets, even though others had left. The security guards were really nice and at one point did this “hint hint” thing that the last performance was running a little late because the performers were having a drink in the parking lot before. Wink wink. I’m dumb, so I didn’t get it but Leila essentially drug me to the back – the guards had previously told us that when the show started we could probably hear it from there anyway, so I was for that. But I hadn’t caught on that Leila was dragging me for a photo op with Emerick. I was utterly mortified she did that and don’t even think I looked at him or said thank you (which haunts me). She just basically drug me over there, said could we have a photo and he took the camera in a failed attempt at a selfie before one of the nice people from BMI took it for us. (It’s hard to get three people of varying heights without a selfie stick, and I would shoot myself before buying a selfie stick.) I have no memory of anything else, other than making a comment about Emerick only having one beer or something like that. It really bothers me that I don’t think I had the presence of mind to say thank you – I didn’t even register that he’d walked away.

 

I did, however, park my butt on the stairs and listen to the show, which he opened with “Conchsucker,” a song Paul Overstreet, who had co-written it, had performed on Isla Mujeres.  Emerick told the ticketed crowd they were the "first to hear it" and I was thinking, "nope." I sat there the whole show, while Leila stood, star-struck, three feet from Rodney Crowell, who, for some reason, was also standing outside the venue. (She'd had no issue throwing me in front of my favorite writer but couldn't say hello to another who was in her personal space for the better part of an hour. Go figure.) What I could hear was a lot of fun, although some was overshadowed by the previous set performers spoken conversation going on right outside the doors. I wanted to tell them to keep it down because I was trying to filch a free concert, but it didn’t sound right.

So now that bucket list item is really on the “wanna do again and again” list. It was so fantastic.