If you can't say something nice...

I'm propped up against the headboard at the Holiday Inn Express in Boulder, Colorado at 6:30am and I just can't sleep anymore. After the whirlwind of the eastern tour, we had only a single day to regroup before heading right back out west for the Rockygrass festival in Lyons, Colorado. As I recover my consciousness this morning, I am flooded with a stream of memories, thoughts, ruminations etc. regarding the eastern tour. My mom always insisted that, "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". So, to stay true to my raising, I won't say anything about the mind numbing traffic jams, the aggressive drivers, the endless road construction, and the lack of emergency shoulders on the turnpikes. I also won't say anything about the suffocating streams of trucks, the brown death effect of acid rain on the forests, or the swiss cheese pavement that rattled and shook The Chief and our kidneys without mercy. I also won't tell stories of heartburn, stomach aches, cramps, constipation and nights on end without sleep or decent food due to the relentless miles that lay before us. And I won't describe RV parks which close at 10 pm (with security gates!), typos in the RV bible that sent us miles out of our way or AAA maps that had more detail than the actual landscape and, as a result, helped us to get MORE lost. I won't relate these experiences because what's the point? It's pretty much obvious that touring the east in an 1982 Winnebago is going to be chock full of anxiety, and discomfort. Case closed.

So, how about some nice things about the east? The beauty of this part of the country is subtle in my opinion. There are plenty of mountains, hills, valleys and rivers. But so often the beauty was so fleeting that you would miss it if you weren't looking. There are lush forests. There are surging waterfalls. There are quant towns with 200+ years of history. There are sooted and steep steel town walkups with gigantic windows to pass on the breeze built in a time long before air conditioning. And there are eastern angels too, who stop to help you just because you have a Missouri license plate. There are vegetarians who take pride in disguising their meatless entrees for us carnivores with wholesomeness and spice. There are amazing bridges which span the countless valleys and rivers with function and style. There is our nation's capital which, when speeding through, seems so small but contains all of the landmarks that you've known since grade school but might not have ever seen- all within distance of the naked eye (depending on which side of The Chief you are looking out of). There is the Big Apple who's perfect subway takes you to do whatever you want, wherever you want, whenever you want, quicker than it would take you to read a map and find a parking place. And finally there are all the fabulous eastern music fans who absolutely got a kick out of this small town, naive group of midwestern musicians who had the crazy idea that they could take their show out east with nothing more than their sweaty suits, overworked instruments, a tired but reliable 30 foot house-on-wheels, and their relentless enthusiasm to get them through it.

You know, come to think of it, it wasn't half bad...