When Todd left the band in December, we weren’t exactly sure what our next move would be. Brad, Will, and I all knew that we wanted to continue the band. We really love playing the music and we weren’t ready to let it die. But at the same time, it’s not the easiest music to grasp. It would take a special drummer to be able to step right in and process all of the time signature changes, tempo changes, and rhythm changes present the majority of our songs.

Our first logical choice was to offer the job to Joe Perry. Joe is a good friend of ours, and he’s played in a band with us before. We knew what we were getting – a good drummer with a good work ethic and very creative ideas for arranging the music. Plus, he’s played many of our songs in a previous band, and would probably be able to get up to speed fairly quickly.

However, Joe had recently revived another old project called Earmeal, and so he didn’t have the time to commit to our band. As it turned out, this was a blessing in disguise.

Since we didn’t know any other drummers around town who seemed like a good fit for the band, we took our search to a more public forum – Craigslist. You gotta love Craigslist. You can find almost anything you want there. I’ve found my Fender Rhodes, both organs I’ve owned, and one of my amps. My old band in California, Day-Old Jelly Roll, found our bass player there. I found my current job on Craigslist as well. I even have a good friend who found his wife on Craigslist. Yes, whatever you are looking for, it can be found on Craigslist. You just have to be diligent and patient.

We were a little worried about taking our search to Craigslist. After all, it is easy to get bogged down in months of sifting through subpar drummers looking for the right fit. Will and I have experienced this in the past. When playing with Pawn Shop Jababa several years ago, we used Craigslist to try and replace our original singer, Katie. Boy was that a nightmare. Week after week, we’d bring in another person who thought she could sing, but wasn’t really a singer. Ultimately, we found a singer for that band through more organic channels, but our Craigslist search almost broke the band. We were hoping this wouldn’t happen to us with our search for a drummer.

I am happy to say that I got a ton of responses to my Craigslist ad. There were a lot of drummers out there who after listening to the songs posted on our website, were very excited to play music with us. That felt very good. It’s always nice to know that other musicians respond well to what you are writing and doing, and that they want to be a part of it. As it turns out, we never played with a single one of these drummers.

When I posted my ad on Craigslist, I also spent a few minutes perusing the other posts already on the site. I came across one drummer’s post that really caught my eye. The drummer had just moved to town from Ohio, was getting his Master’s in drumming, and his influences seemed very similar to ours. I suppose the Ohio part intrigued me as much as his influences, since Brad was from Ohio. Sometimes, random connections like that make all the difference in the world.

I sent this drummer a message including a link to our website. He checked out our music and was interested in getting together. I chose to invite him over to play before any of the people who responded to me, mostly because of the Ohio connection. Our musical connection was apparent instantly.

We felt a tremendous energy in the room from the first night, and it was obvious that this guy can really play the drums. Fortunately, he was having as much fun playing music with us as we were playing music with him. He was part of the band by the end of that first night.

So I would like to officially welcome Aaron Bagby to Jababa. He is an amazing drummer and we are very excited to start working with him. In less than a month, Aaron has learned our entire repertoire, and we are already at the point where we can start playing out again. In just a few short weeks, a lot of our music is sounding better than it ever has before, and we’re looking forward to seeing how it all grows and develops in the coming months.

We will be playing our first gig with Aaron this Wednesday night. It is a private event for Brad’s company. We are currently starting to book gigs for the spring. We’ll keep you posted on when and where we’ll be playing so you can come check out the new lineup. 2010 should bring great things for Jababa.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

Since we began playing together two years ago, Jababa has always been a tight-knit group. We are close friends first and foremost, and everything we have created stems from this friendship and our high level of mutual respect and admiration for one another as musicians and individuals.

While it is never easy to part ways with a member, we all understand that at times, this may be the best for everyone involved. Todd has recently decided to move on from Jababa, and tomorrow night’s Baker St. Pub gig will be his last with the band.

Although we are greatly saddened by Todd’s decision, we wish him the best in all of his musical endeavors moving forward. He has been an integral part of everything the band has accomplished since its inception, and there is no doubt in my mind that we wouldn’t be where we are today without the many contributions Todd has brought to the table.

Todd may be leaving the band, but he will always be a big part of the Jababa family. We look forward to future collaborations with him both as part of Jababa (he is always a most welcome guest musician at our gigs) and in other projects we may contribute to down the road.

Will, Brad, and I fully plan to continue the band in 2010. We truly love playing the music, and we have every intention of pushing it farther in the upcoming year. Jababa is a truly collaborative band, and the addition of a new musician to the fold will undoubtedly lead to an evolution in our music. We are all excited for this infusion of new influences, and we know that these changes will help keep us fresh as we move forward.

I would like to thank Todd for everything he has given to the band over the past two years. He will always remain a close friend and a lifetime member of Jababa, no matter what path music takes him.

We’re all looking forward to tomorrow night’s Baker St. gig. It will be a very special night for the band as we say goodbye to a founding member. We hope you all come out to join us in this occasion so that we can give Todd the proper send-off that he deserves.

The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

Later this month, Jababa will be taking our show on the road – to Venice Beach, California. On November 21, we will play at the art gallery grand opening party for Soltar, Will’s Burning Man art installation. This will mark the first time we’ve played outside the state of Colorado. It should be a great way to close out what has been a very productive and eventful year for the band.

The groundwork for this show was laid at Burning Man. While out on the Playa working on the guitar, Will met a woman who greatly admired his art project. After a lengthy conversation, she expressed interest in purchasing the guitar.

Once we arrived back in Colorado, Will kept in touch with this woman and ultimately sold Soltar to her. When we found out there would be a grand opening party for the initial display of the guitar, Will inquired about the possibility of Jababa coming out to play the event. Lori, the woman who purchased the guitar, was very excited by this idea, and plans were quickly made for us to travel to Venice Beach.

Will sat in on a lengthy conference call that included many of the major players of the Venice Beach community – the mayor, chief of police, and fire chief. Lori, Soltar’s new owner, was also part of this call.

At first, it seemed like we would be very busy on the 21^st. Initial plans called for us to play a daytime set on a flat-bed truck during a parade, an evening set at the art gallery grand opening party, and a late night set at a warehouse party.

However, everyone involved quickly realized that this was too ambitious of an undertaking on such short notice, especially considering the fact that we are traveling out from Colorado, have to secure all of our musical equipment once we arrive, and do not know the area at all. Furthermore, as logistics began to get worked out, unforeseen problems began to arise that altered the overall game plan.

The original location for the guitar was a gallery called 99 High Art Collective. Due to a variety of factors, it quickly became apparent that this was a less than ideal location for the art gallery grand opening. Therefore, Lori was left to scramble for a new location with just a few weeks left before the event. It will now be held at venue called Paint Lab, which should accommodate the party very nicely.

The initial location for the warehouse party also fell through about 2 weeks ago, and Lori was unable to secure an alternate location on such short notice. So sadly, this party was cancelled. I believe that the parade is still going to take place, but the logistics of securing a flat-bed truck with generator power for the band made this part of the day unworkable as well.

As it stands, there is an open house party at Paint Lab for the general public from 1-4 pm, where people can come to view Soltar and the other art pieces Lori has on display. There will be a private party starting at 5 pm and continuing well into the night. We will be providing the music for the private party.

While we were looking forward to an action-packed Jababa invasion of Venice Beach, we also realize that playing one show instead of three will make the day run much smoother, especially since we do not have vehicles to transport equipment from one venue to the next. So we plan on making our one performance count. The grand opening party should be a night to remember for everyone in attendance.

Sadly, Paint Lab is much smaller than 99 High Art Collective, and as a result, we have been limited to a guest list of five people. Many of our friends expressed a desire to travel with us, and we also have several close friends in the Los Angeles area who had planned on coming to check out the band. We have reserved our five guest list slots for the first five of our friends who committed to traveling out to California with us, and we will do our best to see if we can get our local friends in on the day of the event.

The band is very excited about this opportunity. It should be a great way to close out what has been a most memorable year for us. I would like to applaud Will for all of his hard work in making this happen. He has dedicated all of his free time over the past two months to making this event come to fruition, and we wouldn’t be making this trip without all of his efforts.

We hope to see you all at the Lazy Dog this Saturday night as we play what most likely will be our final Boulder area show of 2009. It will also be our send-off party to Venice Beach, so in honor of the occasion, we encourage everyone to show up in beach shorts and flip flops (weather permitting, of course).

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

Despite the fact that this post is nowhere near current and timely anymore, I feel the story is absolutely worth telling. So here it is.

In late August, we headlined the Downtown Get Down in Louisville. While the show ultimately went down as an overwhelming success, it will most likely be remembered by everyone in attendance for the street brawl that occurred after the show, resulting in the cops coming to break it all up.

Sadly, I have to take responsibility for this unfortunate melee, since I brought the instigator to the show. In order to protect the identity of the shameless, I will give him a pseudonym – “Maxwell House.”

Maxwell House and I have been friends for a very long time, dating back to our years living in Vail in the late 90s. While I consider him a very good friend, I do recognize that he rubs others the wrong way at times. When he drinks, a monster is unleashed leaving massive amounts of carnage in its wake.

Sometimes this carnage is caused by the monster simply flexing its muscles and breathing fire in the direction of everyone in the vicinity. However, frequently this carnage is the result of his magnetic attraction to fighting.

Ironically, Maxwell House insists that he doesn’t look for these fights. They just seem to find him. I don’t know how I feel about that statement. I’ve been out drinking w/Maxwell thousands of times over the years, and not once has one of these fights found me. They always seem to find him, and more often than not, he ends up getting thumped by 3-5 people. But it’s always the other person (or people) who seem to be drawn to him. Never his fault.

Recently, Maxwell House has seemed to have calmed down a bit. He is now married and has a baby boy, and it has been several years since I’ve seen the beast unleashed. But I suppose you can never truly keep a monster locked in a cage forever. Sooner or later, it will figure out a way to escape, and then watch out.

Late in the afternoon, I needed to drop off PA gear at the Downtown Get Down for the other bands to use. Unfortunately, the gear was all in Nicole’s car, which is a stick shift. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I am somewhat challenged when it comes to driving a stick. Maxwell House became my stick shift coach on my mission to drop off the gear. Two hours, about 6 beers (for him), and many stalls of Nicole’s car later, we got back to my house so that I could get ready for the gig.

When Maxwell told me he wanted to take the ride back with me and hang out at the Get Down, my natural response was, “Sure.” We had laughed our asses off while I struggled to drive that stick. I felt like we were in it for the long haul that night. Little did I know what that meant.

When we got back to the Get Down, an incredible transformation took place before my eyes. Within a matter of minutes, Maxwell went from drunk but in control to loud boisterous drunk to sloppy drunk to belligerent drunk. The beast had erupted before my eyes.

Maxwell House sat by the stage and heckled the band before us for about a half hour. Finally, I was able to drag him away from the stage so that they could finish their set in peace. I thought the crisis was averted, but soon Jababa would be playing and the beast would be left to its own deviant ways with no one to keep an eye on it.

From what I’ve been told, Maxwell House was cut off by the bartender shortly after we started playing. He then became quite angry and started shouting at the bartender, demanding more beer. He eventually snuck behind the beer stand and stole a pitcher of beer. But stealing a pitcher wasn’t victory enough for Maxwell. He had to drink the entire pitcher right in front of the bartender, daring her to do something about it. If she wasn’t so petrified of him, she probably would have kicked him out right then.

During the rest of our set, the seeds were sewn for the melee that would eventually erupt at the end of the show. Miraculously, one of these fights happened to find Maxwell again. I don’t know how this person knew to pick on him, but apparently Maxwell did nothing to provoke it, as usual. He was just minding his own business and the fight just found him.

Well, he picked a winner this time. Maxwell House started brawling with a guy who was a black belt in karate, a jujutsu master, and an ultimate fighting championship fighter. Can you guess who had the upper hand in this one?

When I finally arrived at the scene, Maxwell House was pinned on the ground, and the other guy was in a position to break his arm. There was a huge crowd there pleading with the guy to let Maxwell go, but he didn’t want to do it. Finally, we told him that the cops were on their way. Instantly, this guy released Maxwell from his vice grip and walked away before he could get arrested for his part in the fracas.

Here is when the story really gets unbelievable. When the cops came, there were only a few of us left at the Downtown Get Down. The cops asked us if anyone here had been involved in the fight. Todd and I began to say, “No,” when for some strange reason, Maxwell House raised his hand and said, “I was.”

He was off the hook. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut, but instead, he brought on the shit storm.

It seems that Maxwell’s many run-ins with the law have taught him to be polite and compliant, something I’ve never seen before when the beast is unleashed. As a result, they took pity on him. He blew a .18 on the breathalyzer, and instead of just arresting him for disorderly conduct, the cops offered him the choice of spending the night in the drunk tank. Maxwell House wisely chose option B.

He was held in the drunk tank until 2pm the next day. He apparently urinated all over the floor in his holding cell in the middle of the night, and when they let him out, his BAC was still .12, which means he probably topped out somewhere between .25 and .30 during the night (most likely while he was urinating on the floor).

Needless to say, Maxwell House has become the first person to officially receive a lifetime ban from Jababa shows. Thanks for the memories, Maxwell.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

At the end of July, we had pleasure of playing at the second annual Some Mountain Jam. As expected, it was one of the highlights of the summer. I want to throw a HUGE shout-out to Jeff Lineback for throwing a kick-ass party that exceeded everyone’s expectations.

It is truly amazing to see how far this party has come in one short year. It is obvious that Jeff learned a lot from putting on the first SMJ last summer. On his second go-around, he took the party to entirely new level.

Last year, SMJ was a small gathering of maybe 50-70 people that lasted one day. Four bands played on a stage that was still being built as people arrived. There was a small tent set up for Gilberto’s Gourmet Goodness to sell burritos. Other than our RV and my friend Kyle’s airstream, there were no other structures present. It was basically a rager party on some open land in the middle of the mountains.

This year, Kyle’s airstream hugged the side of the newly remodeled stage, which provided considerably more shelter (this saved us – the rain gods unleashed their wrath all weekend long). Our RV and Yamn’s tour bus (a remodeled school bus – very cool) created a boundary on the left. In the back of the open space, there were three other RVs, the Gilberto’s tent, and an art tent. This year’s SMJ had the feel of a mini-festival.

The organization this year was top-notch as well. It was an all-weekend affair, and the crowd was easily 2-3 times as large as last year. There were four bands Friday night and six bands on Saturday, with music starting at noon and going until close to 5 in the morning. Despite the un-Colorado-like monsoon rains, all of the bands got to play and the party was a huge success.

Back for its second year was Jeff’s famous pig roast. This time, they had a little trouble with the pit, and the pig did not get cooked as planned. Jeff did a great job improvising on the fly, creating a makeshift rotisserie over the camp fire so that the pig could finish roasting. It made for a gluttonous Saturday evening feast.

We were all blown away by the laser light show accompanying the music Saturday night. It turned the festival into a psychedelic extravaganza. As Frogs Gone Fishing opened their late night set, two thousand glow sticks were launched over the stage to complement the laser show. Words cannot describe the scene at that moment.

Chase, the keyboard player from Springdale Quartet, brought his Hammond A100 organ and full-sized leslie to the party and was kind enough to leave it on stage for all the keyboard players to use. Playing his Hammond was by far the greatest highlight of the weekend for me. There is just no substitute for the power of a Hammond organ pumping through a full-sized leslie. Tunes like What’s Doin’ and Homeless took on a new life. If only it was recorded for posterity. Unfortunately, our set got cut short due to inclement weather. I would have loved to hear Gaboons and Dust Devil through that organ as well.

One of the greatest parts of Some Mountain Jam is the atmosphere among musicians. Jeff has created a festival that brings together many of Colorado’s great local bands, and all of the musicians seemed to enjoy meeting each other. Many connections were made that weekend that will hopefully lead to future collaborations. Once again, there was a late night jam, and I got to sit in with some of the guys from Frogs and the horn player from Liquid Thin. Thanks again to the guys from Frogs Gone Fishing for having me up there. It was a blast.

I spent a lot of time that weekend talking with Chase, the organ player from Springdale Quartet. They are also a Boulder band, and he is as fond of the Fender Rhodes as I am of his Hammond. We spent a lot of time talking about a Boulder show where both bands play. My Rhodes and his Hammond would stay on stage all night – a full-on keyboard extravaganza. Hopefully we can make that show happen sometime this fall.

For those who chose to bail on the weekend, you are truly lame and you easily missed one of the best parties of the summer. I don’t care what your excuse was, you blew it. Maybe next summer you will come to your senses and make sure not to miss this event. I can’t imagine what Jeff will have in store for us next year. He’s raised the bar extremely high. It will be tough to top this one.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

Last weekend, we played one of the odder gigs I’ve ever been a part of. Jababa did a happy hour set at the Topo Ranch, a t-shirt store on Pearl St. We set up in the window in the front of the store. There was a tub of free beer for anyone who stopped by. Not bad for a t-shirt store.

As part of our payment, we each received a free t-shirt, but there was a catch – we needed to wear the shirt while we were playing in order to get it for free. Not a big deal. We had no problem shamelessly promoting their product. Besides, they were pretty cool t-shirts. Organic cotton – nice material.

Since this was somewhat of a more relaxed environment, we responded with a more relaxed format for the show. We tried something new – something we may not experiment with again in the near future, but it was fun for one night. For the first set, the crowd got to pick the set list. We wrote all of our songs on a piece of paper and passed it around the room. A new person would call out the song each time. It made for an unusual flow to the set, but a good time for all who participated. Thanks everyone for choosing our set list.

Someone we have never met before had a sax with him. We brought him out to play a couple of tunes in the second set. One was The Chicken – a tune that we had recently decided to scratch from our set list. But we needed to find a song we all knew, and that one fit the bill. It was a worthwhile exception. We kept him up for Night Court as well. He was a pretty good horn player, and it was fun to have his energy for a few songs.

Due to the randomness of the first set, most of our more intense, intricate, dark tunes were left over for the second set. This was completely unintentional, since no one in the audience knew the names of our songs. Their requests were all random. It just worked out that the last five songs included Grease Fire, Suburban Jihad, I’m Gonna Eat Yo’ Sandwich, and Turncoat. I guess you could say we left everyone on a high note.

We never got to unveil my new tune, When One?, which is a little disappointing. That was pretty much poor planning on our part. It would have been nice to run thru it before Some Mountain Jam this weekend. When One? is actually an old Day-Old Jelly Roll tune (my old band in California). However, it has been completely revamped. It was always lacking something when we played it 8 years ago. I kept the head, but revamped the change and solo sections, essentially giving the song 3 new sections while only keeping one. So for the most part, it is an entirely new tune. Hopefully we will be ambitious this weekend and throw it into the set list at Some Mountain Jam.

The Topo show was a great tune-up gig for Some Mountain Jam. All of the people in attendance last Friday seemed to have a good time. For those of you who missed it, maybe we’ll get invited back to peddle some more shirts in the future.

There is still time to decide to make it up to Some Mountain Jam this weekend. Tickets are still available and will be sold at the gate. For those of you who don’t know what this event is, you should come and see for yourself. You will not be disappointed. For those of you who attended last year or who have been at the Hoot before, you understand how much fun these mountain festivals are. They are always some of the best weekends of the summer. And of course, the RV will be in attendance as well – I love that Jababa is one of the smallest bands in the country with its own tour/party bus.

You can find all relevant and important information about Some Mountain Jam on their website – www.somemountainjam.com. If you are planning on coming, please check the site. It is the only way you will get directions to the party.

Check back in a week or 3 and I should hopefully have a run-down of the events that will transpire this weekend at Some Mountain Jam. But if you are smart, you will take the trip up to South Park and check it out for yourself.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated this blog. What can I say? Sometimes life gets crazy and updating the band blog has to get put on the backburner for awhile. I will try not to take 4 months off again though. That is a bit extreme. However, it is a bit past the point of finishing the tale of our glorious cat trip. That one will just have to remain with those of us on the trip.

A lot has gone on for the band in the past few months. Most of it has to do with being closer to home. In April, we decided to test the waters at Brad’s house. He has an extra bedroom that would cozily fit a four-piece band the size of Jababa. We were all getting tired of paying a lot of money to practice infrequently at Dog House in Lafayette. The hour round trip drive was killing our motivation to practice, and seriously inhibiting the band’s ability to move forward. Brad’s house seemed like a worthwhile option to explore.

So far we have been playing there for about a month and a half, and it has been working out great. We can all walk to and from practice, which is beautiful for summertime. It has led to us getting together more frequently, and we are starting to get a few new tunes in the rotation as a result. They should be ready to go for our summer gigs.

I think that overall, the move to Brad’s house has been one of the best things to happen to our band in a long time. We have all seemed to come together as a tight-knit group in the past few months, and I think our new practice situation has had a profound impact on that. I forsee many good things coming from Jababa as 2009 progresses.

We have also played a few Lazy Dog gigs this spring. Our late April gig was very successful. We had a great turn-out and the music was well-received. We shared the night with DJ Russo. He opened for us and played a short set during our set break. He did a great job, and everyone enjoyed his music selections. DJ Russo also sat in with us for several songs, and the collaboration yielded some of the most intersting moments of the night. I think everyone involved enjoyed having a DJ add a layer to our music. I know most of the feedback I received was very positive. We are looking forward to playing with DJ Russo again. Hopefully, we can develop somewhat of a regular collaboration with him.

We also played the Lazy Dog again at the end of May. This was somewhat of a last minute gig. We found out about it the day before, so there was not much time to promote. If you never heard about it, you have my deepest apologies, but when we find out on such short notice, it is hard to put the word out. We shared that gig with Raymond’s revolving door of musicians called the “Toothless Rednecks.”

That gig went very well too. Raymond put together a wide variety of music for the opener, and it all sounded great. We brought the night home, playing one long set from about 11:30-1:30. That set was one of our more spirited efforts, and I think many of the songs we played that night got into some great musical spaces.

We also played an impromptu jam at Brad’s house for the Bolder Boulder. The race goes right by his house, so we set up on his driveway and played all morning. Quite a few people stopped by to enjoy some music and cocktails, and to take in the race. That set was everything you’d expect from a “crack open a beer at 8 am” jam session — loose, improvisational, and very free form. Most of our songs got the extended treatment that morning. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun to have an opportunity to play that way and not have to be too concerned with issues such as tightness and execution. It is rare that we have such an opportunity.

As it has all spring, the weather refused to cooperate all day, so we had to bring the jam inside after about noon. Many of our local musician friends stopped by that afternoon, and the event turned into a musician’s jam party. From about 2-8 pm, there was a rotating lineup of musicians using our instruments. If you knew how to play an open instrument, you just sat down and gave it a whirl.

There were many moments were the Jababa boys were involved in some capacity. Others participating included Paul, Jubal, Timmy, Chris Carlin, Matt Johnson, and Chris Addison. I’m sure there were others as well. If I forgot to include you on this list, please accept my apologies.

We do have a few gigs cominig up next month. We are playing the Topo Ranch in Boulder on July 17th. It is an early show, starting at 5. There will be free beer and wine. What can be better?

We are also very excited to be a part of Some Mountain Jam 2 at the end of July. This year the festival will be the weekend of July 24-26. For those of you who missed it last year, you missed one of the best weekends of the summer. You should make an effort to get there this year. Jeff Lineback, the owner of the property and promoter of the festival, has put in a lot of work to make the festival grow this year. There will be music on both Friday and Saturday — 8 or 9 bands total. The party is on 7 acres of land just outside of Fairplay. There is also a full disc golf course and hopefully another pig roast. The band Yam is bringing their light show for the evening bands, so be prepared with all your favorite party favors. Jababa plays at 2 pm on Saturday. Check out the festival website for more information: www.somemountainjam.com

Stay tuned for other summer surprises out of Jababa. I’m sure there will be a few.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, ramblings, rants, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

When I originally set out to organize this cat trip, I figured it would be easy. I’ve lived in and around the Vail valley for over 10 years, and I know more than enough people to fill a 12 person snow cat for a back country ski trip. Or so I thought…

The booking of the cat and the condo was relatively painless, and I think I found pretty good deals on both of them. When I booked the cat, I had 7 or 8 people on board. I figured the last few spots would get taken up in no time. 

Of course, I wasn’t thinking about the inevitable fact that some people would have scheduling conflicts for that weekend, and others simply just couldn’t afford to come. So I had a lot of people tell me, “That sounds awesome! I’d love to go, but…”

Nevertheless, with a little over a month to go before the trip, I had every spot filled. At this point, I figured it would be easy sailing until the trip. Just keep my eye on the snow report and collect the money for the trip. That’s when the headaches started rolling in.

I got to work one morning in early February, about 3 weeks before the trip, and found 3 new emails entitled, “cat trip.” I knew that this couldn’t be good. Sure enough, each one said the same thing: “I can’t go on the trip. Sorry to bail so late in the game.” One person couldn’t get out of work, which I found hard to believe since he had put in for the day so far in advance. His friend didn’t know anyone else on the trip, so he was out too – pussy. My third friend gave me the “I can’t afford the trip” excuse. This I found preposterous, since I outlined the costs of the trip for everyone in advance. If he couldn’t afford it, he shouldn’t have taken the spot a month before. And to be quite honest, I kept the trip as affordable as possible. You’d be hard pressed to find a cheaper cat trip anywhere, so he couldn’t have thought the trip was going to be much cheaper.

The right thing to do in that situation is to offer to pay money if we can’t fill your spot or work your ass off to help find a replacement. Had I taken deposits from everyone, this wouldn’t be a problem. If you stood to lose $150, I’ll bet you’d do everything possible to find a replacement. But you live and you learn. Next year, there will be a non-refundable deposit to hold a spot on the trip, and those who flaked out this year will not get an invite unless we are completely desperate to fill a spot.

I have to give credit to the other guys on the trip. They worked their asses off to help fill those spots. Everyone put the word out consistently for 3 weeks. But the problem is, when you only have 3 weeks to save up for a $400-500 weekend, it becomes a challenge to get people on board. Rudy pulled in his friend Chris. At least we were back to 10 people. For the moment…

About 2 weeks before the trip, another friend called me and told me his boss, who had already approved his day off, wouldn’t let him get out of his shift. He manages a restaurant in Vail. They were opening a new restaurant in Boulder the day of the cat trip, and my friend was the only manager left to run the Vail restaurant. He was basically told that he wouldn’t have a job if he didn’t come to work that day. A pretty shitty thing to do to an employee who put in for a day off more than a month in advance. But I can’t exactly blame him. This is not the time to be unemployed.

So now we were back to 9 people. At this point, the trip was getting a lot more expensive, and I was beginning to worry that others would drop out b/c of the increase in price. We were teetering on the edge of a domino effect.

I have to give credit to Barney. He was the only person who had to bail that tried to be part of the solution. He felt terrible about bailing 2 weeks before the trip, and was willing to kick in money for his spot if we couldn’t fill it. A stand-up guy who understood what it means to do the right thing. Everyone else who bailed gave me the, “What do you want me to do about it?” response. Fuckers! That just pissed me off.

So the headaches began to get bigger and more frequent. I almost got to the point where I didn’t want to take this trip anymore. It just wasn’t worth the aggravation. 

I was calling everyone I knew who could keep up on this trip. But with 2 weeks notice, there just wasn’t much of a chance at filling those spots. I kept contacting the flakes who bailed and didn’t do anything to help. Those interactions were infuriating. My friend Jason would never return my calls about the trip. I know he’s busy and didn’t want to deal with it, but it just was rude to me. I didn’t appreciate it. When I finally spoke to him a week before the trip, I made him well aware of this fact. I also made it clear to him that we needed his help in filling his vacant spot. In my mind, it was the least he could do for leaving us high and dry. Fortunately, Jason is a solid guy and took the conversation to heart.

So entering the final week before the trip, we were still short 3 people. At this point, I just stopped caring. There wasn’t much more that I could do. I had exhausted all of my options for replacements, and hounding the flakes wasn’t going to be productive. They had made it abundantly clear that they didn’t care. Instead of suffering more needless headaches, I just decided to start looking forward to the trip. It would be what it would be, so no point in losing any more sleep over it.

But then an amazing thing happened. In the 2 days before the trip, we filled the final 3 spots. I couldn’t believe it. I had accepted the reality of the increased cost. I was very relieved, as was everyone else. Chris brought in one of his friends who had pretty much worked every day since New Years (he had only taken 3 days off in 2009). He had the money and was due for a couple of days off. Jason found someone to fill his spot 2 days before the trip. This guy was supposed to take a back country trip the same weekend, but it fell apart. He was chomping at the bit to latch onto another one. Finally, the day before the trip, Claudia decided to come as well.

At this point, I was getting excited for this trip. In the next post, I’ll get into the details of the trip. It definitely exceeded all of our expectations.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, rants, ramblings, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

It has been a long and arduous road over the past month. The events that transpired tested my patience, my sanity, and my faith in the ability of others to do what is right. But in the end, I made it through the journey and have received the prize. I am now in possession of my ski pass.

For the past 10 years, I have worked at least in some capacity at a ski shop in Beaver Creek. At this point, there are only a handful of people who have been there longer than me. I have seen the shop undergo several facelifts during this time. I have seen two changes in ownership, including an acrimonious buyout against one of the owner’s desires. At this point, I can confidently say I am part of this shop’s family.

Throughout that time, they have always treated me very well. In fact, I can honestly say that my employers at the ski shop have been the best people I have ever worked for. After 10 years, I feel very invested in the shop and its ongoing success, and I would do whatever I can to ensure this.

But for the first time this year, I felt that they had done me wrong. And it hit me pretty hard.

For the past 5 years, I have worked out an arrangement with the shop where I would work over the holidays in return for a ski pass. This was a big deal. They did not do this for anyone else. Normally, you have to be a full-time employee to receive a pass. In many of these years, I wasn’t even a part-time employee. I was bonus coverage for 2 or 3 weeks. But I had worked for them for a long time and they knew that having an experienced employee as bonus coverage during the busiest weeks of the season was a nice security blanket. And I was part of the family. They take good care of their family.

This arrangement was always important to me because it was the only way for me to receive a pass granting me unlimited days at Vail and Beaver Creek — my two local mountains and my home away from home. This year, I had another option. Vail offered their Epic Pass for the first time. I could now plunk down a chunk of change and receive unlimited days up there.

But I chose not to take the sure-bet option. Instead, I asked to work out the pass arrangement again. I chose this option because the price of the pass would be difficult for me to afford (I spent most of the summer unemployed). I felt that 50 hours of my time was easier to part with than $580.

As with every other year, I called the shop often to confirm that my pass situation was going to work out. I would check in once or twice a month starting in August. Each month, I was told, “No problem. Just call in mid-December to work out a schedule.”

Then the economy crashed, and everything changed.

Unfortunately, no one informed me that things were different this year. Understandably, when people don’t have any money, one of the first things that gets cut out is a ski vacation to the most expensive resort in the country. So the shop was staring at their worst season ever. To say the least, the owner of my shop was shitting his pants.

Just before I came to pick up my pass, he decided that based on their poor numbers this season, they couldn’t afford any bonus coverage employees over Christmas. No job, no pass. But by this time, the mountain was no longer selling season passes. I was pretty much fucked.

I have to admit, I felt that the shop owned the majority of responsibility for this gaffe. I gave them many opportunities to tell me that they couldn’t guarantee my pass. Had they done so, I would have bought an Epic Pass while it was still on sale. But they waited until I had no other options.

I was confident that they would do something to correct the problem. After all, they had always taken great care of me. But all I received was, “Sorry. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t be responsible for the economy.” So on the week before Christmas, I basically had a giant ski boot shoved up my ass.

Surprisingly, my boss wouldn’t talk to me. It was as if he was avoiding the situation altogether. I understand that he has been stressed out about business and that he had more important things to think about than my pass. But at the same time, all he needed to give me was 10 minutes of his time and we would have been able to work it all out.

It took me almost a month to get that 10 minutes. During that time, I was beginning to believe that the 2009 ski season would not be in the cards for me. But finally, the situation was resolved and I have received my ski pass. And all I had to lose out on was the best December in the history of Vail.

I don’t have much of a point to this story. I wish I did. I suppose it was a long-winded way of explaining how relieved and excited I am to finally have a ski pass.

But I do have a point to this whole ramble, and it is…

I sometimes refer to myself as the ski bum poet. And with good reason.

Writers, especially poets and song writers, generally write about what inspires them. Some people write about sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Some people write about unrequited love. Some people write sharp political and social satire. Some people write about the plight of the wretched. I write about powder days.

It may sound trite, but before you condemn me for the frivolity of my subject matter, allow me to defend myself. I am of the belief that the subject matter is not as important as the way the subject is delivered. You can turn out good writing on any subject matter so long as you say it well. I’m not going to call myself a lyrical gangster by any means, but I work pretty hard at compensating for my trite subject matter with good language. Sometimes, I do a better job than others.

You can’t help what inspires you. Being out in the wilderness at 12,000 feet, rushing through the trees with snow hitting me in the face inspires me. Every winter, I experience a creative burst fueled by the time I spend on the mountain. It is only natural that a substantial portion of my subject matter talks about the inspiration of this creativity.

It is uncertain whether the mountain will inspire any new gems this winter. Hopefully, they will. As it is, I still have several pieces I want to write that were inspired by my experiences the past few winters. But in honor of finally receiving my pass, I’d like to share a few of my favorites inspired by last winter. I hope you enjoy.

 

This first one is about my ski shop. The bulk of it was written one day last Christmas when I had helped a few too many Texans. As a result, it is a bit harsh. I normally don’t feel such resentment and anger while I’m working there. But I also feel like attacked this from the right angle. The edginess makes it work. 

Ski Shop

Tick-tock tick-tock, I watch the hands on the clock
Creep-crawling along, slowing to a stop
I’ve been rotting in the dungeon for 5 hours
But it seems like 5 days
Riding the ebb and flow
The bouts of monotony and tedium
Interspersed with moments of utter chaos

Right now I’m enjoying a down moment
Twiddling my thumbs like a baby in his crib too long
A brief respite from my personal purgatory
That I call Rental Hell

Any moment it can all come crashing down
The next wave to turn my smile into a frown
Pushy, pompous parents and their bossy little brats
The next generation of callous corporate swine
Being groomed to one day become “the man”

I’ve been around the block and back again
Paid my dues, put in my time
And through it all I’ve come to see
The strange, the bizarre, the idiosyncrasies
The colorful characters that define the world we inhabit
While we punch the proverbial clock

The women that prance around in their fur coats and furrier boots
Throwing a hissy-fit if their skis don’t match their brand new hat
It retails for $125 – a little pricy but it makes them look oh so cute
I don’t need to look at the address on your form
To know you live in Texas

The middle-age men rocking their neon yellow one-pieces
Purchased circa 1986, but still retains its blinding bright glow
Strutting around like fashion models
Convinced their style is still on the cutting edge of cool
Not that it ever really was

The women with calves the size of Wyoming
Veritable tree trunks, and redwoods at that
I spend at least an hour shoving those Lincoln logs into at least 8 different boots
She’s in a state of disbelief that none of them fit
She gets 3 days of exercise a year
But mysteriously can’t shove her meaty hooves into a boot
Imagine that

The gaper swinging his skis over his shoulder
Spinning around like a ballerina
Wielding his weapon of mass destruction with full force
Be careful or he might take your head off faster than a guillotine

But when I’m waist deep in powder on a bluebird day
Floating on the fresh, basking in the rays
I think about the people coming through my shop
Paying 25 grand to live my life for a week
It drops the chip off my shoulder and puts a smile on my face
‘Cause when you think about it, this ain’t such a bad place

 

This next one is about a powder day in late March. It was my first time skiing the Y-chutes in about 8 or 9 years.

The Hedon

A labyrinth with many entryways but only one exit
I thought I knew them all like a lover’s warm embrace
I thought I’d explored every nook and cranny
Until you brought me to the hidden gate

We embark on our ascent, a journey of redemption
Exorcising demons of days long past
The sky is howling
Its frozen tears form a cushion beneath my leaden gunboats

We trudge on and on, drawing ever so near
We trudge on and on, headed for the stratosphere

I scaled the spiral stairs to the penthouse suite
I breathed in the air, gazed views beyond compare
I let out a cry from the depths of my soul
Until my sides convulsing, I could take no more

I stand here in disbelief
For the moment I’m a thief
As I horde this gift all to myself
On my perch in solitude
I scoff at those who would intrude
I’m a hedon in this winter wonderland

My heart is a wrecking ball inside my body
I clock in at 8 on the Richter scale
I’m cemented on my perch
As I stare down the doorway to my death

With a gargantuan struggle
I breach the ivory gate and find refuge down below
I let out a sigh of relief
I am king of the world once again

I storm off the launching pad in elation
A lead weight vanishing from my neck
As I’m buried to my waist in heaven
I slay the dragon from my past

I stand here in disbelief
For the moment I’m a thief
As I horde this gift all to myself
On my perch in solitude
I scoff at those who would intrude
I’m a hedon in this winter wonderland

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, rants, ramblings, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.

I was traveling back from NY after Thanksgiving. It was raining in NY. Actually, it was raining in about 3/4 of the country. Flights were getting delayed all over the country due to weather. My flight got delayed…

…not from weather. The dumb fuckers working for the airline couldn’t get the hatch in the back of the plane closed. So we sat in the plane waiting to take off for over an hour. Just waiting on the runway. Waiting…and waiting…and waiting…

Finally, we took off. I had a connecting flight in Cincinnati to take me back to Colorado. Our plane landed in Cincinnati about 5 minutes after my connecting flight took off. Unlike everyone else in the country who missed their connecting flights from an act of God (read: mother nature), I missed my flight because the airline crew couldn’t figure out how to shut the fucking hatch. Fantastic.

The Sunday of Thanksgiving may possibly be the worst day of the year to miss your flight. Especially when bad weather was derailing every airline in the country. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people were scrambling to rebook on a different flight so that they could get home. After all, this is the busiest travel weekend of the year.

I was flying Delta. They couldn’t get me out of Cincinnati until Tuesday morning (2 days later), so they rebooked me on American. Unfortunately, the flight they booked me on was full. How ’bout that for great service.

The best American could do was get me on another flight the following morning. But I would have to transfer in Chicago, where they were experiencing a huge blizzard. So there was some question as to whether I would actually make it from Cincinnati to Chicago to make my connecting flight. But since it was Thanksgiving weekend, my options were limited. I had no choice but to roll the dice on a blizzard.

The gracious people at Delta tried to tell me they wouldn’t pay for a hotel for me, even though it was their fault that I missed my flight. I had to get into angry New Yorker mode and start raising Hell before they came around to my point of view. But ultimately, I was able to make them see it my way, and I was on my way to the Holiday Inn Airport Hotel in Northern Kentucky (the Cincinnati airport is actually in northern Kentucky).

If I had been stranded in a more happening place, I would have gone out on the town for the night. But seeing as it northern Kentucky on a Sunday night, I was pretty much fucked. I was stuck in the airport hotel with a free room and a $7 food voucher.

Some people might have looked at this as a miserable situation. Not me. I am an optimist. I viewed this as an opportunity. This was the busiest travel weekend of the year. There were major storms all over the country. Surely there would be others who missed their connecting flights in Cincinnati. If they were flying Delta, they would be at my hotel.

There are very few instances in your life when you have the opportunity to meet a woman knowing that you have nothing else to do all night but share her company till dawn and then part ways in the morning never to see each other again. The other option was to spend the entire night alone. This was my situation.

Anyone traveling alone who missed a flight would be stuck in my airport hotel, with nowhere to go. This was a deadbeat town. You couldn’t even take a cab to a downtown district to find a restaurant. You had one choice. The hotel bar.

I realize that not all people think like me. Sure, you may be married, yet traveling alone. In that situation, you may not be looking for a one night fling. But chances are, if you were traveling alone over Thanksgiving and stuck in that hotel, you were more than likely to be single. And bored. Why not have a debaucherous, raucous, guilt-free, no-strings-attached night with someone else sharing your predicament?

I personally believe that most people, male or female, would share this sentiment. We all have needs, drives, desires. We all enjoy a little fun once in awhile. We rarely have an opportunity to indulge our desires in such a low-stress, carefree manner. This is a truly great opportunity. Anyone denying that they would think this way in this situation is a complete and utter liar.

I’m not going to be arrogant enough to consider myself the most jaw-dropping attractive guy out there. But I do think that I fit the range of attractiveness that many women would look for when sizing up a suitable partner for such a night. And, I am quite the conversationalist. For a night like this, I am a fairly good catch.

Of course, I am not holding out for some A-list bombshell either. I am looking for someone in the general range of average attractiveness or better. My age range is flexible as well. Let’s say early 20’s to mid 40’s. I mean, I’m not sizing her up for a relationship; just a good one night stand. And in these cases, older is generally better. She will most likely be more down with the cause.

So I’m playing the odds right now. Most likely, there will be some women stuck at this hotel. They all need to eat dinner. There is only one place to go for that — the hotel bar. So I head down there early. Don’t want to miss any prospects. Time is of the essence.

When I get to the bar, it is relatively empty. I order a drink and start watching the Sunday night football game. Eventually I order some food. Sure enough, the bar fills up.

But it fills up with a bunch of dudes. It’s unbelievable. All the people stuck at the hotel from missed flights are dudes. Inconceivable!

I was polite. I would respond to their mundane inquiries as to my predicament. They all seemed to be in a mood to share travel nightmare stories. I didn’t share their zeal. I wasn’t here for companionship. At least, not that kind of companionship. I would have rather sat in my room reading a book.

So I kept my eyes out for some lovely ladies. But there were only dudes.

Finally, a woman graced us with her presence. She was young (about 20) and decently attractive. She was a perfect prospect.

Or so I thought.

From the moment she walked in to the bar, she clearly tried to establish a distance between herself and the rest of the riff-raff in the room. She spent the first 5 or 10 minutes on her cell phone, and eventually sat down by herself at a table (instead of at the bar).

Her table was near my spot at the bar, so I tried to engage her in conversation. For a young girl, she was a hell of a snob. I don’t really know what she had to be so snobby about. At 20 years old, she couldn’t have done a whole lot to make her better than everyone else. But she sure seemed to think she was.

From our brief conversation, I was able to ascertain that she was VERY rich. Let me rephrase that. OBSCENELY RICH. She normally flies on her mom’s private jet, but for some reason, it was loaned out to someone else for the weekend. She had some strange provision in her trust fund requiring her to get her Master’s degree by age 25 in order to keep her inheritance. She was from a Massachusetts political family — the Kennedy family (or so she said). OBSCENELY RICH.

But a bit stuck up. She was giving me snippets of a fascinating story. She had me hooked. I don’t really know any people with her life. I was curious. Not in some weird stalker way. Not in some violent rapist way. Not in some deranged kidnapper way. But curious the way a writer gets curious when he meets someone with a life experience completely different than his own.

That’s what writers do. They observe and comment. I approach most situations from the perspective that it may be fodder for an interesting piece of writing. Because to be a true artist, you need to be able to find inspiration in the ordinary and mundane as well as the extraordinary. Both are equally viable sources of juicy material.

And here was my chance to get a window into the life of a person whom I have no business ever meeting or knowing. I had my chance to enter this world. At Penn, I met all sorts of people who came from obscenely rich families. But I never sought them as friends. There was no connection. They weren’t my people. I didn’t share their values or their interests. It wasn’t personal. We just didn’t connect. I could have been one of the people at Penn who desperately tried to break into this circle (and believe me, there were plenty of them). But it wasn’t for me. So I punched my exit ticket from that society and had no qualms about it.

And 10 years later, I’m face to face with one of these people. And I have as much to bring to the table as she does. Our lives are completely different, but I can share as much with her as she can with me. And as a writer and an artist, I want the whole story. If it leads to my desired carefree romp in my 3rd floor room, that’s fantastic. But at this point I’ll settle for the inspiration to a song, poem, or short story.

So I prod. Very directly. Is there any other way?

She wants no part of it, and makes it clear to me instantly. As soon as I pressed her in her family and background, she rudely responded, “Are we done?”

This was a golden opportunity for her as well. She could open up and share her life with a complete stranger for one night (or even an hour over a beer). She can be more honest with me than she’d even be with her shrink (if she has one). I’m a person who she’ll never see again in her life. There is no reason to hold back. And she did hint that there was plenty of drama and turmoil in her family. And I have the conversational skills to keep her going. If only she’d not been such a stuck up bitch.

So she blew me off. And instead of becoming the inspiration for a great song, poem, or maybe even a short story, she received 2 lines in a poem and a tirade in my blog. And she passed up a night of guilt-free, uninhibited sex to boot. Sucker!

Back to square 1. Surely there will be others.

Well, there was one other. A woman in her 40’s or 50’s. Toothless. Looking like a bag lady. Could barely get her words straight. I don’t know what her drug of choice is, but it clearly has had its effects on her. She wouldn’t do. And remember, I’m not about to be picky in this situation. But she wouldn’t do. Inconceivable!

And that was it. No more women came thru the bar for the rest of the night. Only about 10 dudes hanging around, coming and going, all thinking the same thing as me. Finally, one of them had the balls to say what was on everyone else’s mind: “Are any women going to walk thru this door? What do I have to do to get laid tonight?” Gotta love honesty. None of the rest of us were going to say it. But we were all thinking it.

And so I sat at the bar, sharing my frustration in the situation w/10 other strange dudes, all of us wishing we were anywhere but here.

I have completed a poem about this night. I will share it with you all in my next post. Part 2 of my Cincinnati saga.

“The Jababa Chronicles”: All musings, anecdotes, philosophies, rants, ramblings, and tirades written exclusively by Andrew Martin unless otherwise specified.