We were offered, one night in a small small town, a home in which to stay the night. This is always a generous offer and in this particular small small town, the offer was particularly sweet for multiple reasons.
One. All the obvious reasons: space, pillows, air conditioning.
Two. Good people. The Pettys were still awake and kickin when we finally showed up at four AM, post show, to their home. Amy and Tom. Yes, we stayed at [a] Tom Petty’s house.
Three. Bunk beds. Put a grown man on a top-bunk, equipped with electric guitar-themed bed sheets, a shaky ladder to climb up, and a fan spinning no less than 200 RPM no less than 2 feet above the bed, and you’re bound to awake with a story the next morning; if not a decapitated guitarist.
Lastly, we were fed. Probably overfed. Biscuits and gravy for breakfast, BBQ chicken and bake potato and homemade cake for lunch. … Then no room but for rock and roll for dinner.
The show the next day was in another small town. Turns out small town folk know how to party and the venue ‘Roots’ made us believe theirs were grown in alcohol. We introduced JMSMC to Roots and at this very moment there might be a lynch mob awaiting the Mayer tour bus to roll through. But since the newest verse has a (constantly changing) line praising the coolness of the peanut butter bruisers, we hope the inevitable encounter goes smoothly, at least for Bruiser One, Bruiser Two, and capo.
