If you’ve bothered to read the “About This Blog” page, you’ll already know how often I play at suburban Mexican restaurants. To be exact, as of this moment, I have 3 gigs a week, every week at one.
The only saving grace to the monotony of constantly coming home smelling like fried tortilla chips, besides the money, is the every other Friday gig I have with my cajon player, Nathan Lathouse.
However, there is one thing that not even Nathan can help eleviate for me during these gigs. I don’t even think Mexicans recommend eating Mexican food more than twice a week, so when I’ve hosed down 3 free dinners by Friday, needless to say, one thing usually leads to another.
At least Nathan is there to inappropriately spray air freshener like it’s silly string while standing in the middle of the crowded bar, thereby making me LOL. Judging by the sorry state of the tip jar that night, I don’t think the patrons in the line of fire found the overwhelming smell of lemon lysol while trying to enjoy their dinners to be quite as funny as we did.
Where’d he even find that spray can?