Chapter 8 - THE FIRST DRIVE
Our
first show went well. We had finished our encore, finished
our meet and greet backstage and we were now getting ready
to board the land yacht for our first real drive, albeit a
relatively short one. It was only a couple of hundred miles.
The crew had already loaded up the trucks and were well on
their way. Yes, the electric circus was leaving. We were leaving
the sublime natural serenity of Wolftrap for the ridiculous
casino chaos of Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. I swear, every
time I walk through the main floor casino I feel like I'm
in the middle of a Fellini film, but that's another story.
So
now, here we are rolling down the highway in the middle of
the night, still wired with the left over adrenaline from
our performance and trying to come down and unwind. What shall
we do? Should we have a drink or two, make a flat meat sandwich
or maybe channel surf the satellite TV hook-up, maybe even
have some witty conversation about the show or who knows what
else? The answer; All of the above! Try drinking a few cups
of strong coffee, run around the block five or six times just
before you go to bed and then try to go to sleep, you'll get
the general idea. Now if we time all these mobile post show
activities just right, we'll be ready to crash about the time
we reach our next hotel.
Most
of us would have some beer or perhaps a little wine, or maybe
even an occasional gin & tonic, but Zoot was another story
altogether. You see, Zoot's cocktail of choice was a dry Martini.
Not just a Martini but a Martini of gourmet standards, only
the finest vodka at the proper chill with the best vermouth
and the plumpest olives. After all the ingredients had been
precisely measured out, they were shaken not stirred, over
ice, and served up in Zoot's special, one and only, royal
blue Martini glass. My God! I'll bet even James Bond would
have been impressed.
As
the string of concerts eventually begins to blur and blend
in to each other, as they always do, and each new highway
looks like the one you just left behind, there are some images
that you'll never forget and that become indelible memories.
Zoot's once-a-day Martini ritual was one of them. I can still
vividly see him, behind those purple shades with his trademark
impish grin, raising his glass for a toast while we rolled
on down the interstate.
