Saturday was more than a time for disposable bag dispenser market research. After Friday’s West Sac Manhunt, the Doghouse was accessible again. No road blocks. No crime scene tape. No SWAT or K-9 units. West Sac’s industrial area had returned to normal. The late morning and early afternoon were perfect for running through the set one last time and packing for Sunday. Guitar, amp, reverb unit, cords, and tub of merchandise were positioned by the door. The play list and list of items to pimp were finalized.
Everything was ready to go for Sunday morning.
On Sunday morning, the Blackberry dinged, and a text from Paul read, “Can you bring your cymbals?” The response was quick, “OK.” That was an excuse to get to the Doghouse earlier than planned and took my mind off of the gig.
When we arrived at the Capitol Bowl, the Pyrovan was backed into the primo parking place in front of the doors. Paul and Don already were setting up.
We looked through the window and saw some friends in a booth. Once we were inside and finished exchanging pleasantries, they said, “We just had brunch. We didn’t know you were playing here today and can’t stay. We have chores.” So much for our emails and a Facebook posts.
As that conversation ended, Becky checked her Blackberry to discover that another friend was up to his knees in mud and gunk repairing a broken water pipe. Man, our potential audience count was dropping by the minute.
After setting up and taping cords, set list, and pimp list to the floor, I put a madras shirt on over my Lava Pups tee. The madras shirt was a nod to the true SoCal beach look in the early 1960s. No Hawaiian shirts back in the day.
While Don and Paul finished their meal, Glenn made the final adjustments to the drum kit and I tuned.
Don and Paul joined us and plugged in. Each of us played a few notes. Tim -- the Pyronauts’ drummer -- indicated from a booth in the far corner of the restaurant that we needed more volume. Folks were arriving. They sat in the restaurant and in the lounge area between the restaurant and the bowling lanes. A number of our friends went directly to bowling. They knew, from our earlier gig, that they could listen from the lanes.
Even though we knew that lightning was not going to strike twice, this was having the fifty plus feeling. Those coming to join our Surf Party and CD Release outnumbered the other patrons of the Capitol Bowl. The first really warm weekend of the year was affecting all indoor activities. Boating, hanging out along the rivers or in the parks, picnics, gardening, and the like most likely were higher of most people’s agendas.
Hey, if we got fifty folks in the door, that was fifty who otherwise would not be at the Capitol Bowl on a Sunday afternoon. I have friends who are “real musicians” who would love to have an audience of 50.
Plus, keeping in mind our friend with the broken water pipe, this was going to be better than being up to our knees in mud.