The first thing I head for’s the milk, because I know where it is. I rarely shop in this grocery store. I’m usually at the dirt Publix three blocks from the house because it’s closer. But, they’re closed by 9 and Sweetbay’s open, so I’m in a strange grocery store with a mission to find some nonstandard items.

On my way to the milk, I see Edy’s Grand ice cream is on crazy sale, two for seven bucks. Lunatic flavors, too… Coconut Pineapple? Cherry Chocolate Chip, red velvet style? Shit.

So now I’ve got the milk, and the ice cream, which is melting. Fiber One bars. Where the hell are those? Cereal aisle.

Not there.

I needed apples, and they’re right over there. Braeburn? Cameo! $1.39/lb - Bang.

Ice cream’s melting. Shit. Fiber One bars. Shit.

I stop two girls in Sweetbay garb, even though they’re clearly off the clock and doing their own shopping. They were cool, though, and after I looked at them somewhat frantically after getting off the phone with my wife who said, “Ask someone,” I asked them about where I could find, you know, “chewy granola chocolate chip things, like I thought I’d find in cereal, but it wasn’t there.” Aisle 5. Thank God.

Ice cream’s melting, and the lines at the register are thick, so I head back over to dairy to swap out my now-softened crazy flavored ice creams with fresher, colder ice creams from the cooler. And on my way there, I see this black dude that looks just like Samuel L. Jackson, and he’s wearing a do-rag, and a Tucci t-shirt.

Tucci, Tucci…. where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, Wanee Festival. Some local dude, like a dentist or something, with a blues band. Was this the same black dude who jammed at the campground jam, and that I’d chatted with for a while before Junior Brown’s set? No, this was a different dude.

By now, I’ve gotten fresh ice creams and decide to make a break for it. Oh yeah, Sprite Zero. The pregnant wife’s got some odd dietary habits lately. Got it, so now I pick the least of all evils and go for Checkout Lane Six.

In front of me is a guy in one of those personal scooter motorized grocery shopping go-carts. He’s flipping through the magazines and knocks all the People magazines from its shelf in the rack. They spill all over the floor. Do I help him out? After a short pause, thinking, Yeah I should help this dude, I go for it and, as I’m stooping down to pick up the strewn mess, I say, “Lemme help out with that.”

“Oh, I’m not crippled, I’m just feeling lazy today.”

Feeling lazy today? Was he serious?

Sure enough, as the line inches forward and he motors up to the conveyor belt, he stands up out of the seat to hoist a gallon of milk or six-pack of beer or something onto the conveyor. I thought for a moment whether I should say something to him, but thought better of it and just laughed inside, wondering if he parked in a handicapped parking spot outside with the same rationale.

Behind me, there’s a guy that looks like Robert Duval, wearing a CB radio type thing hanging from his breast pocket with one of those curly cords going down to some receiver on his belt. He’s talking to himself pretty loudly. I realize he’s probably talking to someone on a wireless phone headset, and sure enough after a brief moment, he turned his head and I saw the Bluetooth piece.

This wasn’t just “Uh huh,” or “yeah, lemme call you back when I’m out of the grocery store,” this was a fairly animated conversation about hauling something made of aluminum. If I weren’t helping the non-cripple in front of me, I probably could have recalled more details about his can’t-wait conversation.

Now I’m at the register, and Lazy, ahead of me, is having problems with the debit card swipe. The checkout lady, now resorting to the “plastic bag AND backwards” swipe trick, looks at Robert Duval behind me, then glances at me and all I have for her is my best Jim Halpert smirk. She smiles at me with a quiet laugh as the plastic bag trick works and we watch Lazy scooter himself out with his loot.

“It’s like a Seinfeld episode,” I tell her as I grab my receipt.

“I know, isn’t it?” she replies, as I leave the Sprite Zero sitting there, walk out to my car and drive home to remember just now about the Sprite Zero. Shit.

Rig and settings:

60th Anniv American Fat Strat Deluxe
Fender Hotrod Deluxe - clean channel
Volume 2/12
Treble 9
Bass 5
Mid 8
Reverb 3
Presence 9
BBE Green Screamer
Boss DD6 echo

Terry B had a party out in Micanopy where they live. Same people I got Oyster from - known them as long as I’ve known Mike, roughly 12 years.
She’s always said, years ago when I was threatening to play guitar (this is lonnng ago), “Man, Chris, when we gonna get together and jam??”
Well, my attendance at this party she was throwing for Mike (same Mike I was visiting) was a (pleasant) surprise
Maybe 30 people at its most crowded
I had my big amp and my strat. After shying back for a while, I caved into people asking me when the hell I was gonna plug in and contribute, I set up with an extension chord and just sat on my amp, on the outskirts of the circle of lawn chairs, with the group of musicians at the other side.
My volume low, just feeling around for some practice.
After one jam, someone came over to me and said, “Dude, that was really thick. Great playin, that was awesome.”
and he shook my hand.
inside, I about shit myself, it was such a great compliment.
so then they demanded I move my gear “into the circle,” and that’s where I stayed, on and off, for the next 4 hours.
must’ve gone through 20 songs, and hardly hit a wrong note.
I was playing lead the whole time, because the rest of the “band” consisted of 5 acoustics, 1 acoustic bass running through a little solid state Fender amp, a xylophone, a fiddle, a banjo, two or three singers rotating through songs, and 6 people playing drums.
I was in heaven.
Flashbulbs kept going off because people were taking pictures of us playing.
Now, one lady I was introduced to was in town for Bo Diddley’s funeral. I struck up conversation and learned that she’s been recording with Bo Diddley as a backup singer for 25 years.
I told her I had my rig with me, and that I’d be playing that night, and ironically enough just learned to play the song ‘Bo Diddley’ a week before the man died.
So, after 4 songs of getting comfy, I started strumming on muted strings, the ‘Bo Diddley beat.’
you know the one.
and everybody sorta stopped what they were doing…
and I began, and she stood up and sang the whole thing, with me playing riffs on the breaks
with all these people around
and come to find out, one person in the crowd had a handheld DAT recorder. she recorded it in stereo, pretty high quality.
she’ll be sending me an MP3 (hopefully)
she even said, the chick that recorded all this, that “it sounded so good even afterwards when you were just noodling around before the next song that I kept on recording, so I have that little part as well.”
I got so many firm handshakes and hugs and compliments and requests for when I’ll be back, please come back soon.
I’m not making this up, or overstating it…. I felt like a rockstar.
and I insisted all the other players take a few riffs on my strat. they LOVED it, and some of them were exceptional players.
so that’s the story of how I played a 4hr set of lead guitar in Micanopy this past Saturday.
I’m hoping the MP3 shows up soon so i can post it up to my channel as an audio/video