You hear a lot of rumors about Palm Springs. That there are a lot of old people. A lot of Gay people.
A lot of golfers. A lot of Old, Gay, Golfers.

I didn't see any when I was there. But people out there certainly have a sense of style. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Jim Fitzgerald had asked me a while back if I'd like to play out in Palm Springs. I'd only played there once before, for a 40th birthday party for a guy named...John Frasca. That was a few years ago. But we'd never performed in public out there. So Fitz asked us to play the Rancho Mirage Art Affaire on November 6th, 2005. A Sunday. 2:00 PM.

John E and I flew in from Baltimore late Saturday night. We got in at 1:00 AM. George flew from Jersey a few hours before. Kevin was supposed to drive in from LA the following morning.

John E and I stayed at...John Frasca's house. You see, after John's 40th birthday party, we became friends--good friends. John and his wife Susan had us out to their Palm Springs house a few years ago, when we were passing through on a California tour. And they offered John E and I their house for the weekend.
Nice, huh?

We got there around 2:00 AM, via taxi, a guy named Jaime, who was from Jerusalem, via Cleveland. Jaime waited as we found the secret hiding place for the key.

The house is real nice--in a development, next to a golf course that's full of...Old, Gay, Golfers. Just kidding. In front of the house is a big...pool. And Jacuzzi. When we got inside, John and Susan had a bottle of wine out, with a welcome note. They had driven up from San Diego (takes 2 hours) a few days before to 'fluff up the pillows', and they left us a little welcome present.

We watched their Big Ass TV for a minute, drank a glass and went to sleep and dreamt about...Old Gay Golfers. I got up the next AM, jogged back to the airport (200 miles) got a rental car (it was closed after midnight the night before) went to Wal-Mart for some fruits and nuts, and went back to the Frasca Shack.

I had enough time to fiddle around with my bass, take a shower, get dressed, and head to the gig. When John E and I got there, Kevin was already there. George was missing. Kevin (Chocky) went to the hotel to pick up George (they were staying at the same hotel--don't ask) and when they got back we did soundcheck. After soundcheck, we went back into a hospitality tent behind the stage, and they had sandwiches and food and stuff back there for us.

Fitz, and his wife Wendy, waltzed into the tent with a bottle of wine--a cabernet. Normally, when they bring you wine, it's the twist-off kind that bubbles. But Fitz brought a bottle from his cellar, and it was good. Real good.

So, a little sip, and then...Showtime.

We hit the stage, a temporary stage with white folding chairs in front, all underneath a huge, white tent.
Peeps were sitting around, falling asleep. Outside the tent on the left there were rows of artist's booths--paintings, sculptures, etc., and on the right, they had the food and wine booths. People were milling around, and then we started playing. Then they ran for the exits.

We started off with 'There for You" a song Fitz had played on his show a little earlier in the week. That woke up the crowd. And we continued to play long and hard that sunny, warm desert day. Groovin'. On a Sunday afternoon. We played for about an hour and forty five minutes.

After the show, we did the Grip and Grin, the Meet and Greet, and we had a chance to see some amigos and amigas. Fonda and Jo came down from Fresno (now that's a hike!). Sandy and Normy came up from San Clemente. And John and Susan Frasca drove up (again!) from San Diego with their son Leonardo. Susan is real pregnant. She asked me to sign her belly...a message to her MD...

We stayed and chit-chatted 'til the sun went down, then we went out to eat.

I was T-A-R-D tired. But I rallied. We went to an Italian place, a place that was recommended by Kathryn, Art Good's wife. They live in Palm Springs. Or, should I say, it's one of their many houses. Kathryn met us for dinner.

I wasn't real crazy about the food. Maybe I'm getting old and picky--well, I am old, but--how many times do you go to a new restaurant, and get disappointed? Is it just me? And it ain't cheap to eat out these days.

I ordered a white clam sauce, and it said on the menu 'vongole veraci'. Now, vongole veraci are Italian clams--teeny-weeny, the size of your pinky nail.
Small and sweet. The clams that came out were the size of my feet, and just as ugly. I didn't pitch a bitch, just asked for some aglio e olio (pasta with garlic and olive oil) and it wasn't so good, either.
How can ya screw up garlic and olive oil? I won't name the place.

Now, you know I ain't complainin', just esplainin'.

Not too much bothers me. But if you don't say anything, nothing improves.

The next day? Gorgeous. Art Good asked John E and I to meet him at the tram. The Tram is a little gondola that climbs a Big Ass mountain. Art and his son Austin met us at the bottom, we took the tram to the top and it was...steep. And breathtaking. And gorgeous.

We got to the top of the mountain, and took a look out over the desert. I snapped some pics...

We did an interview for Art's Christmas Radio show (JazzTrax), had some lunch (macaroni and cheese), and went back down on the tram. We followed Art to his house (a beautiful shack at the base of the mountain) and I sang 'Blue Christmas' and played the piano. Art recorded it for his Christmas Show.

Then, John E and I went back to the Frasca's, cleaned up, locked up, and took the rental car back. Our flight left Palm Springs at 9:30 PM. Put 3 quarters in a slot machine, won 50 bucks, and caught the next flight to B-Mo. We got in to Baltimore 6:30 AM the next day. 6,000 miles. 12 songs. That's 500 miles per song. Pretty good, huh?

Big thanks to John and Susan and little Leonardo di Frasca. Thanks to Fitz for bringing us to Palm Springs for our Big Debut. Thanks to all who came out to the Big Show. Thanks to Art and Kathryn and Austin.

Who loves ya?
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