Flying By The Seat Of My Pants

A few weeks ago, I get a phone call with a bad connection from a well known comic. He asks if I got his previous message. No. Asks if I’m available in a few weeks to be a part of a 5 camera shoot in Myrtle Beach, 15 min set, to be a part of the “new Christian Comics” thing, and to call him back later. It doesn’t pay, but the exposure could be mega worth it. Are you kidding me? You had me at 5 cameras.

 So I cancel some club work I had booked for that weekend. When I call him back, the connection is even worse. He’s in Nebraska he says, and all I can picture is him out on some windswept field with horses and mountains in the distance. Likely I am confusing Nebraska with Montana. Likely he’s in a windy Wallmart parking lot.

 

 A week later I send my flight info’ and haven’t heard from him since…flash forward and now I’m getting dropped off at the airport. A friend asks “who’s picking you up?” I don’t know. “Is someone picking you up?” I think so. “Where are you staying?” I don’t know. The gig comes with a room…but I don’t know where. “Where is the gig? What’s the name of the venue?” Uh…I’m starting to sound and feel pretty stupid by now. I’m going on faith that this comic from Nebraska has this all ironed out… And as I’m boarding my second plane of the day, I get a semi-frantic phone call from another comic booked on this gig. He lost his wallet at the airport, just landed in Myrtle Beach, and says “there’s no one here!” He’s tried to call Mr. Nebraska 20 times (but never left a message, don’t ask me why.) “I got nothing! No money! No people! No directions! I got nuthin’! I’m never this stupid!!!”

I’m never this stupid either; I mean I’m pretty “fly by the seat of my pants” but this is really… wait a minute. Yes, I am. There was the time I showed up in Prague at night with nothing, no money, no people, no directions. All I had was the name and description of a guy, who found a room for my other American friends, 6 months ago. Leon, bald with a brown leather jacket. And sure enough, I call out his name, and there he was. I ended up with a nice flat in old town for a week. Maybe my fellow comic will have it all ironed out by the time I get there, and if not, I’m taking the bus to the nearest beach for a sunset dip in Mother Ocean. Flying by the seat of your pants ain’t so bad, if your seat ends up on a sandy beach. After all, what’s life without a little adventure?