We had decided to head over to the Big Apple around 4 p.m. The original time set forth by the venue was 5:30, so with all things considered along with Terry's love affair with punctuality, 90 minutes was allotted for travel time--a doubling of theoretically possible transit times. I felt this was reasonable. I ran over to the nearby K-Mart and got some bottled water for myself and Terry who had handed me a couple of bucks to do so. I was down to my last $1.70, and he offered to loan me ten. I rain checked, really wanting to prove I could live within my means, regardless of how meager those means were. He seemed to appreciate that. Meanwhile, Kenny was enjoying his Burger King purchases...

As the recently altered skyline of New York appeared on the horizon as we bounced along, I began to get a feeling of dread in my gut. I was not expecting this. I had originally felt excitement at the prospect of visiting New York. Now I was getting a growing sense of anxiety. By the time we were taking the Holland Tunnel exit, the anxiousness was palpable in the van. It was a nice day, quite warm for the time of year, yet it seemed overcast with a kind of depressing pall. I found myself clutching my Rescue Remedy as we headed into the Holland Tunnel, subliminally feeling the panic of trapped motorists who had to endure several hours in here on 9-11, not knowing what was going on, and some with scant information sitting in terror of a tunnel bomb. Kenny broke the tense silence, "Imagine all those people down here. Claustrophobic like a motherfucker." We all winced as the walls closed in.

None too soon we popped out of the tunnel into the crowded scene at the inner city toll booth. As we were waiting to be waved in by the police guard, we heard a thick, crashing, thud. A stoned, drunk, or sleeping driver had rammed his little compact car into one of the cement guards. Ouch. Now that we were actually here, I started to settle down a bit, and worked to keep my attention focused on the outside world, which was teeming in a way I'd never seen before. We were about four blocks from the ex-WTC rubble, and what got me was the smell. Acrid, sickening waves of putrid odor wafted now and then through the van. I knew the smell of decaying human flesh, having had that unfortunate experience before, and this was definitely it. Mixed in with car fumes and garbage smells, it was now apparent this was the Big Rotten Apple. I was amazed that anyone could still live here.

After a while, the odor toned down as my olfactories adjusted, but then I noticed that the people all seemed to look tired, pale, and tense. No wonder. Jeff was masterful reading the map and guiding Terry with an velvet-lined iron hand. We just wanted to get in here, do the fucking gig, and get out. We lucked into a load-in spot right in front of the club, which is right next door to the Bitter End. That's cool--a slice of Americana there, fer sure. Terra Blues is a second-floor club, nicely done with polished wood floors and matching wood appointments on the walls. A large U.S. flag adorned the wall behind the stage, and a high-end EAW sound system was in evidence. We were there exactly at 5:30.

After setting up most of my kit, it became apparent that Terry was agitated about something, and there were phone calls going on. Apparently the manager had told him that the club owner wanted to talk to Terry about re-adjusting the money for the gig. Oh-oh. The gall of club owners who think this is okay is beyond me. We come all the way out to New York, driving 14 hours-plus the day before, without a food or drink comp on the contract, and now he wants to cut the dough. Incredible. His side of the story (wishful thinking), was that he thought the record company was going to pay a percentage of Terry's fee. Plus, he said the record company had not sent him any promo of any kind. Why he would think the record company would pay for some of the fee, after they didn't send any promised promo, I don't know. There was also the hope that Terry would take mercy on him since this was New York and all, and everything...Well, Terry basically said, "We're outta here." He told me to pack up, so I tore down what I'd set up, and had everything boxed up, when a flurry of cell and line phone calls began. The club owner would talk to Terry on the house phone, then call the manager on his cell. Soon, Terry said, "Here's what's happening. We're gonna do the gig. I'm sorry I had you tear down, man." "That's cool," I said, "I need the exercise." At this point, I didn't really care one way or the other. I was actually kind of hoping to just get out of there, despite the waste of time and effort. Apparently, the club owner relented once he realized Terry was serious about packing out, and agreed to pay the full fee.

I ended up taking Terry up on his offer of the ten spot, and set out in search of something to eat. I was hypo-ing a bit, so there was a psychedelic aura around everything as I picked my way down the street. After skipping an expensive Mexican food place across the street, I ended up at a gourmet potato chip store front, where I spied hygienic tightly saran-wrapped sandwiches. I requested the turkey and cheese, shelled out an outrageous $6.75 and headed back to the club. I devoured the $3.50-worth of sandwich, and decided to head back out to look around, now that I was newly refreshed and composed. As I trucked around, I identified four or five languages being spoken amongst various bands of people. French here, Russian there, German over there, and I think some Spanish, not to mention several instances of thick New York brogue. Truly a melting pot! I then spotted a great little supermarket right across the street from the chip place. Duh. It was spotlessly clean and the deli selection was heavenly. Trouble is, I only had two bucks left. Still hungry, I grabbed a potato knish for $1.25 and checked out. Meanwhile, Jesse had decided to take a walk, chose a random direction and ended up right in front of the WTC site. He said the smell was overwhelming, and that he couldn't stand there for more than a minute without feeling sick. He had hightailed it back to the club.

Returning to the club about 30 minutes before showtime, I sat backstage with Jesse and Terry, who had been talking about internet promotion when I walked in. I told Terry I would redo his biography and be his webmaster. I strongly feel that Terry is very underrated as a cultural icon of American music. I want to help change that. So, stay tuned...

As we launched into the first set, the band felt sluggish. The room filled about halfway up by the second set, and we were back up to speed. Terry, being the consummate pro, did his best to put on a show on the undersized stage, and the few people paying attention were definitely enjoying it, and sticking around. We had to do three 60's, but by the beginning of the third set, there were only three people in the room besides the staff. Hence, after about 20 minutes, we were given the okay to quit.

I broke down and packed up in record time, and I think we were outta there in about 30 minutes. As we were loading up, two drunk 20-somethings puked in the trash can next to the stairs, and there were several people weaving precariously around the sidewalks. Everything was loaded quickly and we were outta there at last...we had hoped. Somehow, we took a wrong turn and ended up on a street looking straight into the WTC rubble heap about a quarter mile away. The guards were not helpful in directing us to the Holland Tunnel and away from the scene, so we asked a pedestrian, who pointed us in the wrong direction. We finally ended up going back to where we had made a wrong turn, and in a Homer Simpson moment realized we had simply overlooked the obvious tunnel entrance.

This time, going through the tunnel was relief. It felt cozy and free, and as we broke out into the open freeway, my whole body relaxed and I finally started enjoying myself. I had walked into the jaws of hell, done my duty, and now was on my way. Whew! There was a certain sense of satisfaction, but figuring in what it took to get there and the paltry sum we came out with, it hardly seemed worth it.