Hippies, Tolls, and Acoustics III

Show Three, The Velvet Lounge, Washington D.C.- After a waking up on the side of a strange street in a strange neighborhood (in the van of course) we set out to find the WTJU radio station in Charlottesville where we were scheduled for a live radio interview. After trusting Andrew's i-phone GPS one to many times, we finally were forced to archaically demand a passerby the way to the radio station. The human directions got us where we needed to be. Thank you Mr. Maintenance man where ever you are. The radio show went great besides me freezing up and sounding like I had just learned to talk five minutes before the show. But who cares if Annabelle is dumb as long as she can sing, right? After our interview, we got to meet the local band who was interviewed after us, called "Six Day Bender" I mention this because 4 days later in New York City, we were sitting in this hole in the wall bar and lo and behold stuck on the wall right above my head was a "Six Day Bender" bumper sticker. I thought "what are the odds of that?? I just thought it was random and funny and reminded me of the philosophical blanket of the film I Heart Huckabees. If you havent seen it Dustin Hoffman has this "Blanket" Theory that everything is connected in some way or "exists underneath the same blanket" Maybe Six Day Bender saw a Cain & Annabelle sticker somewhere and thought the same thing. I would like to think so. Although I'm not sue was significance it has. I guess if it makes you smile its worth it.
Radio show finished we head off to D.C., which is not so far from Charlottesville. It was then that I ventured into unknown territory, having never driven north of Charlottesville afor in my life, nor flown to any city north of that besides Boston. Therefore, a new set of excited nerves set in for me knowing that I was about set foot in new cities and play my music for brand new ears. Nothing happened of note upon our arrival to D.C. besides me goggling at all the sites I had ever only seen in pictures and stopping in my tracks everytime I passed someone speaking French...which happened quite often due to the number of tourists that were milling around. More on the French later. I have story.
Show time: This show was terrible. To start the room we played in was about 45 degrees. Or that is what it felt like. Second, we were booked with two local duos. Which could have been a good thing given they had a good many friends come out to the show which in turn gave us an audience. However, due to the fact that we were the "headiners" we played last. which in turn meant that we did not go on until midnight....on a weeknight...which meant that most everyone went home to their comfy warm beds and left us playing in a morbidly cold room for a handfull of sleepy eyed kind souls. One side note about one of the duo's that played...who shall remain nameless..before. The duo was composed of two girls, one played the viola and one the piano. They wore ridiculous fairy crowns like the one the guy wears at the end of Dead Poet Society when he is about to kill himself. They were both very talented musicans but they used their talents to create some of the most dreadful music I have ever herad. Very dark goth folk music with disturbing lyrics and an even more disturbing sound that acutally scared me. I had to go outside while they played to keep myself from feeling like I was having a giant nightmare. One of their songs, and I find this hilarious, was based on a discarded note one of the girls has found in a piano practice room at her university that read something like "Dear Aaron...I just wanted to thank you for teaching me so many things...How selfishness and pride don't get you very far in love. How screwing other people really is fun for only on party involved. And so many other little things. I will cherish the things you've taught me. And as for your new girl friend, well I hope you choke while eating her out. Love, Amy" That last part was key. The song was called "I hope you choke" and it was dreadful... however funny I found the note to be. the next song was preceeded with the words "this song reminds me of how we used to play toss with my dad's head" and their last song was about a gay werewolf. Doesn't that sound like a lovely set to preceed Cain & Annabelle? I thought so too. Slightly affected by this less than encouraging opening act, we crept on stage. Our fingers were so cold we couldn't play properly and the energy in the room was so dead it was worse than playing for an empty room. Things did not look good from any angle of the situation. So we blazed through our set in an effort to keep warm and called it a night after about 30-40 minutes. The evening was topped out by the fact that no one person bought a CD. And that was that.
HOWEVER...one girl and her boyfriend who had really liked or music, invited us to come stay at their place.(there always seems to be at least ONE redeaming fact about every bad situation we have had so far on the trip.someone is looking out for us thats for sure) Not knowing what else to do we followed them, but were a little aprehensive that we would find ourselves in the same situation we had the night previous. But the two seemed nice and clean and very well-meaning so we took a chance.
Twenty minutes later we pull up in front of a mansion of a house with a lexus and a mercedes parked out front. "You guys live here??" "Well yeah." said the girl Jessie "But its my parents" "OHHH. got ya." So we knew we were safe with this house. No crickets in the bathroom. Nothing but pristine floors and well decorated walls. Since Jessie's parents didn't know we were coming, we opted to sleep in the van instead of the house since the neighborhood was nice and safe. But we got permission to take a shower the following morning. Something we hadn't had since we left Cumberland Gap.
After a good night sleep we walked into the house to find Jessie's dad making us pancakes and eggs. We found out after much talking that we had just parked our van in front of a house of spies and agents. Jessie's dad Chip is an ex-CIA agent/field artist who had some insane stories about being a sniper in Vietnam and some lovely paintings he had done of foreign dignitaries and village common folk alike. Jessie's mom was an FBI agent who ratted out foreign spies in the United States. There was a time when neither could tell the other their profession. I chuckled and thought of that movie Mr. And Mrs. Smith. When I saw it I thought it was far fetched. But now I know there was some basis of reality lurking inside of it. Oh the things you learn. All I can say is a CIA agent can make me eggs any day of the week. and he even invited us to stay an extra night. What a chip off the ol' block :)