Date: Monday, March 14, 2016
Time: 9:53 p.m. (CST … do we really have to do this every time?).
Place: Room 403 at the Super Eight in North Austin, Texas.
Well, McDonald’s has its own showcase room now and they call it a loft. So, there’s that.
Somebody once sang that the night does funny things inside a man, and such a maxim is rarely more true than it is when you’re alone in a Super Eight with two beds in Austin, Texas, and you only need one. There’s a loneliness – an abandonment, even – to hotel rooms. Sure, there can be romance in the isolation, but it fleets as quick as the nighttime skyline when you lay down on a mattress covered with little more than a puke-green blanket.
Stitch Early is ready, though. An afternoon of walking, talking, walking … and then walking some more has left the legs tired, the feet sore, and the head exhausted. Watching him promote himself up and down Sixth Street was a lesson in perseverance. Even when a strange wanderer, complete with construction-like attire, approached a couch at the Austin Convention Center, inquiring about business cards, Stitch held strong. Kind to the core, he flashed that priceless smile, asked someone to look up the price of an iTV, and went upon his unapologetically optimistic way.
A dinner comprised of food from the state of Texas’s own version of Texas Roadhouse (which, ironically, isn’t nearly as good as its supposed original namesake), along with a talk about God, fate, and everything in between rounded out the night in a hopeful-yet-sober-fashion. Especially for such a sad sap as myself.
Soundcheck’s at 11 a.m. tomorrow. The Dope DealerTour. The Bat Bar. One 15 minute set. Is all this worth it? We’ll find out. For now, though, all I can do is stare at a sign that reads, “Cheaper Than Dirt Guns.” Somebody’s yelling in the hallway. Texas is as Texas does.