per/Simmons

I don’t really have a fear of flying. It’s more like a fear of falling out of the sky. Yeah, yeah, I know the statistics and I understand the physics of lift and the Bernoulli principle. But I always have this sneaking suspicion that…The Universe? God? The Forces of Nature? …are going to wake up during one of my sojourns in the air and say: “What the hell? This thing’s too heavy to be up here and, look: no strings above, no stand underneath! Time to push the reset button on this violation of basic physics!”

Of course the rational part of my brain doesn’t really believe that. But the rational part of my brain has had a lifetime of experiences with mechanical conveyances (automobiles, for the most part) developing odd problems or just conking out completely—usually at the most inconvenient times or greatest distances from easy assistance. The big diff is said ground transportation offers the immediate option of coasting onto the shoulder of the road as the prelude to seeking further solutions. No shoulders at 30,000 feet.

But, seriously, I can fly. I have flown. I expect to fly again. I just don’t like it much.

Long drives to the airport, long-term parking, long lines, invasive security screenings (Is that a metal detector wand, Officer, or are you just happy to see me?), flight delays, 4-hour layovers or 20 minutes to dash through a Mall of the Americas sized airport to catch a connecting flight at the other end, arranging for pickup at my final destination—oops, not the best of terms given the movie franchise! There’s more: tiny seats with no legroom. I’m 6-4 and a bit more expansive of late. While my budget doesn’t typically allow buying two seats, it makes sense given my size and what the baggage handlers have done to my guitar in the past. And speaking of baggage, I don’t really find conventions restful when the airlines misplace my luggage.

Don’t get me started on the laptop issue…

So, after Mapquesting the route, a two-day drive (each way) seemed an equitable exchange. It would take my actual arrival time (and date) out of the questionable area that the airlines have been increasingly guilty of. And, even factoring in a budget motel stopover each way, it would even save Interfilk some money.

Besides, I hadn’t been to Canada in over 30 years and thought it might be nice to see a little more of it on this trip. I’ve only traveled outside the United States to visit three sovereign nations—Mexico, Canada, and Texas—so a little sight-seeing is always a preferable option. And, my GM Equinox had an 8-way adjustable drivers seat with moveable lumbar support, OnStar, GPS, and XM Satellite Radio (though I’m letting the free trial subscription to the latter lapse after this month) so I was assured of much more comfort in transit over a 2-day period than the Airline Obstacle Course, Multi-Legged Marathon, and Endurance Contest. At least the challenges on Survivor are a lot shorter, more fun, and offer either exotic rewards or immunity at Tribal Council.

The McMurrays drove up from Oklahoma late Tuesday evening to spend the night and we loaded up all of our stuff, which included another guitar and an autoharp, and departed, more or less, about 90 minutes behind schedule. My Bad: I had to wait on a prescription refill and return home (a few blocks at that point) for my jacket. We were going to Canada, after all.

Here’s the thing about a slightly more than 20 hour drive estimate. One: It’s Mapquest. If you’ve had much experience with Mapquest, particularly for distance driving: ‘nuff said. Two: expecting to drive a mere 10 hours each day does not take into account bathroom breaks, food breaks, and refueling breaks. Now you might suppose that all three could be combined into a single stop each time—you would, that is, if you were terribly young and inexperienced in long distance group travel. I’m not saying it was a big problem; it just wasn’t factored into the original math. That being said, we learned from our first day’s excursion and made good time on the second day. Even with a bit of wait at the border. I expected that. You can’t just have wide-open borders: Canada would be overrun with unemployed Americans surging North in search of jobs and socialized healthcare…

The final three hours of the drive were spent doing metric conversion tables in my head. Once in Canada I discovered that my speedometer was only calibrated for MPH. All of the other cars I had ever owned had a secondary reference table on the inner circle for KPH. It wasn’t until the return leg of our journey that I discovered the software switch that changed the whole speedometer to kilometer measurement. Hey, I got the car in January; I’d only gotten as far as page 427 in the owner’s manual.

At last we arrived at the Delta Hotel Thursday evening: and so Childe Roland to the Darke Tower came…

Stay Tuned for Part 3

It just wasn’t going to be easy…

I knew that, spending this past year trying to reconstruct my core filk notebook. I have two large notebooks crammed with other people’s filk music. At issue was the slender notebook that contained MY material and the select pieces I use in my own concert sets. It went missing a couple of years ago and I suspect it got lost at my last FenCon appearance.

It took awhile to realize that it was gone. Post-convention recovery usually means I don’t worry much beyond unpacking my razor and toothbrush and debriefing the cats before falling into bed to stave off a week’s worth of narcolepsy. The guitar rarely returns to its musty corner until Tuesday evening at the earliest.

It took a couple of months to be sure that my core filk book, a slender binder easily misplaced among dozens of larger binders and hundreds of books, was actually missing and not simply misplaced.

I wasn’t too distraught. Then. Surely someone knew of its whereabouts, others had copies of my primary material, there were backups and assorted electronic files on my laptop…

A year later, no one had any idea as to where the binder might have ended up; the people who had copies, had copies of what I had backed up; and there wasn’t that much backed up that survived as I had gone through a succession of computers as well as hard drive restorations over the past several years. Still, as I had considered myself semi-retired from both the filk and convention circuit I wasn’t feeling too much pressure to reconstruct my core playlist. At least there were other deadlines more pressing.

Then I got the call from Interfilk asking if I would be willing to be their guest representative to FilkOntario in 2010. After consulting the Mayan calendar to confirm that the world would not end for another two years and getting reassurances that this was not part of some larger conspiracy to renew hostilities with Canada, I accepted.

You always think you have more time than you actually do. And the last time I had been to Canada (34 years ago) I didn’t require a passport. Nor did I know that there are two different kinds of birth certificates, of which, only one counts as far as the government is concerned. Guess which I had?

There followed a succession of family “situations”—being the middle part of what is called the sandwich generation. My mother has lost a chunk of her short-term memory and my son has moved back home as he grapples with unemployment, a divorce, and severe depression. There’s nothing like family to keep your mind off your own troubles…

A month before the convention, my computer crashes. I spend the better part of a week trying to root out the virus that took it down and then half of another, wiping the hard drive and doing a complete reinstall. A week later it crashes again. Either the virus was well-hidden in my back-up or it came back again—despite my Norton Symantic and Malwarebytes software. Guess I gotta stay away from that Russian Mail-order Brides website…

A week before the convention, it happens again and believe me: the third time is NOT a charm. Though I am getting much better at the wiping and reinstalling by now. Unfortunately, there will not be time to get everything back up to speed before I depart and, even now, there is much to do to get everything back to the way it was and working the way it should.

Also, three weeks before the Con, I take my Ovation 12-String Acoustic/Electric guitar in to get the neck straightened and restrung. I even spring to have the nine-volt battery replaced inside that powers the pre-amp. This causes a hitch in the 24-hour turnaround as the pickup is dead and parts won’t be in for the better part of a week. I nix the pickup fix as time is short, money is shorter, and I actually jack my guitar into an amp about twice every decade. It’s a filk convention and there will probably be more Mikes than you’d find in an Irish bar.

The medium gauge strings feel all right but I’m not getting the pitch I want. No one carries heavy gauge 12-string sets within driving distance so I have to order them. A week later I’ve restrung my guitar but the heavies need more seasoning time to set and be properly broken in. I waste a week to discover that they’re not going to work out like I’d hoped. Now there are no medium gauge sets of 12s within driving distance and I’m supposed to be on the road in four days. I buy a set of light 12s. It’s not just that I think light 12s are for sissies, I really want something with a lower pitch and more bass and brass. I’m a baritone/bass and the lites are generally not a good match for me. But this set of heavies is worse and so I restring my guitar for the third time in as many weeks.

Surprise: they actually are a pretty good fit! It would have been nice to have a whole week to break them in before my departure but that’s what you get when you put an idiot in charge of your convention prep! (Unfortunately, I am all that I can afford.)

Did I mention income taxes? Thank God for extensions!

Typically, a convention means taking Friday off from work, if you don’t want to arrive late. And that’s just for the cons within a few hours travel time. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve worked to arrange for an additional day off on both ends so I’m organized, packed, and well-rested before setting out on Friday and organized, unpacked, and well-rested when I return to work on Tuesday.

FilkOntario required a week’s worth of vacation, just to squeak out and slide back into work. That’s because I decided to drive instead of fly.

See? An idiot…

Stay Tuned for Part 2