The Great Florida Trip of 2012- Day V
The day began like any other day, filled with hope, optimism and the promise of producing something great in regards to the written word. I awoke feeling good about the night before, fart dream and all. I felt like I moved forward the night before, like I got better, like I did my job.
I woke around 10am, by design, and starting writing the day four blog. A couple of hours later, after completing the blog and catching up on my scrabble and words with friends games, I put on my blue sweat pants, a tee shirt, my Bruins cap, grabbed my notebooks and headed out the door. My plan was to walk down to the Starbucks I stopped into the first night I was in town. Along the way, I'd stop into Bank of America, withdraw some funds and be on my way.
My first step outside I noticed a chill in the air and after a few more steps I contemplated grabbing my hoodie but I decided not to. I knew once I got rolling I'd warm up and I was right. As I walked I thought of all the good things yet to happen and about all the goals I'm going to meet. Better yet, I dreamed about extraordinary accomplishments.
I didn't realize it but I had been walking for almost 40 minutes and no sign of the Bank of America I had seen on a previous night while driving. I began to doubt myself and consulted my phone. It's amazing that I can do that, when in doubt check your Blackberry, it has all the answers. Fortunately, I was on the right path and just three tenths of a mile away. I also realized that the Starbucks I was hoping to go to and get some work done was at least another mile away. By this time I was famished, and if you want to know why read day four and the barbecue incident. Luckily, there was a diner across the street and the name of it had me sold. It was called Fred and Ethel's. I knew exactly what I was going to order before entering, a BLT on rye with fries and that's what I got.
It was delicious. The fries were cooked perfectly, the bacon, the extra pickles and coleslaw were awesome. To top it off, great coffee. I was happy, pleased and most importantly, full.
I sat and people watched. A family came in. They pushed in an old women I'm assuming was the grandmother of the group. Then I assume her son and two grandchildren, or her son, daughter and the daughter's husband. I'm not sure what the relationship was but that's what I'm going with. The old woman looked very old. She could hardly sit up in her wheel chair. She leaned to one side and the woman kept getting up to straighten her out and feed her at the same time. Her son, who was an older man himself, would wipe her face after a few bites. These people were constantly helping all the while eating their own lunches. I've never seen anything like it. Then I began to feel sad. I took off my glasses so I wouldn't have a sharp view of the place. Everything was a blur. I started to get mad because life is cruel sometimes, because that's what this woman was reduced to. It brought back memories of the last time I saw my grandmother, how she didn't look like herself. How she didn't know who she was or how she didn't even know who I was.
I was impressed how this family cared for this woman, taking time to put her first and feed her. They did it matter of factually too. It made me think. Could I do that? I would have to, no question. I left with a feeling of thankfulness and a greater sense of family. No words in the notebook though.
I walked back to the hotel re-planning my afternoon. I'd get a coffee and go to my room and write. I did write a few a ideas but nothing I was proud of. The coffee was good and my thoughts turned towards another show.
The show was at the Port St. Lucie Civic Center in a side ballroom that probably held a couple of hundred people and was close to full. The majority of the crowd, I would say, the average age was fifty something. I got nervous and retreated to my notebook to look for some suitable material. I knew I had to change it up. I felt better and hit the stage. It was an unmitigated disaster and one of the worst sets I've had in a long time. Basically, I ate my cock. Like, really ate it bad. I made the rookie mistake of taking my little black notebook on stage with me. At one point I turned and looked at it because I was bombing hard and maybe there was something on that list that would work. I didn't see anything because I couldn't see any of the words. Well, that's kind of a no-no on a Saturday night and feel like a piece of crap because of it. Being called out on it is even worse. I don't look at notes on stage. I haven't done it in a couple of years. I have no idea why I did it last night.
As I write this, I think of the family at the diner. My little trials and tribulations are put in perspective, they don't matter. It was just one show. I'll wake up tomorrow and head back to work. I'll wake up with the same hope and optimism.
I woke around 10am, by design, and starting writing the day four blog. A couple of hours later, after completing the blog and catching up on my scrabble and words with friends games, I put on my blue sweat pants, a tee shirt, my Bruins cap, grabbed my notebooks and headed out the door. My plan was to walk down to the Starbucks I stopped into the first night I was in town. Along the way, I'd stop into Bank of America, withdraw some funds and be on my way.
My first step outside I noticed a chill in the air and after a few more steps I contemplated grabbing my hoodie but I decided not to. I knew once I got rolling I'd warm up and I was right. As I walked I thought of all the good things yet to happen and about all the goals I'm going to meet. Better yet, I dreamed about extraordinary accomplishments.
I didn't realize it but I had been walking for almost 40 minutes and no sign of the Bank of America I had seen on a previous night while driving. I began to doubt myself and consulted my phone. It's amazing that I can do that, when in doubt check your Blackberry, it has all the answers. Fortunately, I was on the right path and just three tenths of a mile away. I also realized that the Starbucks I was hoping to go to and get some work done was at least another mile away. By this time I was famished, and if you want to know why read day four and the barbecue incident. Luckily, there was a diner across the street and the name of it had me sold. It was called Fred and Ethel's. I knew exactly what I was going to order before entering, a BLT on rye with fries and that's what I got.
It was delicious. The fries were cooked perfectly, the bacon, the extra pickles and coleslaw were awesome. To top it off, great coffee. I was happy, pleased and most importantly, full.
I sat and people watched. A family came in. They pushed in an old women I'm assuming was the grandmother of the group. Then I assume her son and two grandchildren, or her son, daughter and the daughter's husband. I'm not sure what the relationship was but that's what I'm going with. The old woman looked very old. She could hardly sit up in her wheel chair. She leaned to one side and the woman kept getting up to straighten her out and feed her at the same time. Her son, who was an older man himself, would wipe her face after a few bites. These people were constantly helping all the while eating their own lunches. I've never seen anything like it. Then I began to feel sad. I took off my glasses so I wouldn't have a sharp view of the place. Everything was a blur. I started to get mad because life is cruel sometimes, because that's what this woman was reduced to. It brought back memories of the last time I saw my grandmother, how she didn't look like herself. How she didn't know who she was or how she didn't even know who I was.
I was impressed how this family cared for this woman, taking time to put her first and feed her. They did it matter of factually too. It made me think. Could I do that? I would have to, no question. I left with a feeling of thankfulness and a greater sense of family. No words in the notebook though.
I walked back to the hotel re-planning my afternoon. I'd get a coffee and go to my room and write. I did write a few a ideas but nothing I was proud of. The coffee was good and my thoughts turned towards another show.
The show was at the Port St. Lucie Civic Center in a side ballroom that probably held a couple of hundred people and was close to full. The majority of the crowd, I would say, the average age was fifty something. I got nervous and retreated to my notebook to look for some suitable material. I knew I had to change it up. I felt better and hit the stage. It was an unmitigated disaster and one of the worst sets I've had in a long time. Basically, I ate my cock. Like, really ate it bad. I made the rookie mistake of taking my little black notebook on stage with me. At one point I turned and looked at it because I was bombing hard and maybe there was something on that list that would work. I didn't see anything because I couldn't see any of the words. Well, that's kind of a no-no on a Saturday night and feel like a piece of crap because of it. Being called out on it is even worse. I don't look at notes on stage. I haven't done it in a couple of years. I have no idea why I did it last night.
As I write this, I think of the family at the diner. My little trials and tribulations are put in perspective, they don't matter. It was just one show. I'll wake up tomorrow and head back to work. I'll wake up with the same hope and optimism.
Posted by Tony Moschetto at 1/15/2012 1:33 AM 
Categories: The Daily Paragraph, The Great Florida Trip of 2012
Categories: The Daily Paragraph, The Great Florida Trip of 2012
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