Lovett or Leave It

I was close enough to see the smile wrinkles around Lyle's eyes last night. The show was every bit as new and unusual as I'd heard. Just him and John Hiatt, two chairs, two guitars. They had this awkward banter about random everyday things. It was completely ad-lib as they traded off playing tunes for over two hours. John ended up talking about the weekend he spent in jail for a DWI years ago. Lyle went on about a gig-gone-wrong at a bowling alley/bar in the early days. The sold out crowd starting calling out favorite songs and most of the time Lyle'd say "uh, okay" in the sort of halting-way he speaks - and then off he'd go. How do musicians remember all the lyrics and chords to their songs when - like Lyle and John - their careers span decades? I can't even remember my last phone number or the birthdates of close friends. Here's a bit of classic Lovett full of sly humor: (Great seats, eh?)

It was great fun and a pretty special show since they'll never again play the same songs in the same order with the same quirky Lyle-isms in between. Big hugs to my siblings for the ticket!

After the encore, I hustled out of the theater, though, because it was past 10 p.m. and I was due at work this morning at 4:15 a.m.

I guess I should have expected a little drama. Something strange usually happens when I go to a Lyle show: I fall and bloody my legs or get locked out of the car or lose a ticket or something. Not even bad karma can stand in my way when Lyle Lovett comes to town. But last night took the cake.

The garage where I parked my car was locked. Big metal gate blocking the entrance. It was only 10:15 p.m. but apparently it shut at 9 p.m. Though the only sign mentioning this was on the outside of the door only visible coming into the garage on foot from the street. Convenient to have that important little detail posted somewhere it will only be seen after it's too late, no? Even better, the sign said I could call a number and have them let me out for $35, but nobody answered the phone.

Finally, I gave up and hailed a cab home. Then I arranged for the same driver to come back a few hours later (3:50 a.m.) and drive me the 20-minute distance to work. (Expensive!) The cabbie was nice, though. And with the help of a few Diet Mountain Dews I made it through my work shift before taking the bus back downtown to get my car.

The last ironic twist - when I drove out of the parking garage, the attendant's booth was empty and the arm was up. At least I didn't have to pay for the privilege of having my car locked up over night!

If I were Lyle, I bet I could write a pretty good song about that.