I spent most of the day at a coffeeshop reading and writing, smoking and drinking. I wanted
to reconnect with Lilly who I had met last time I was in Whitefish, MT. I had sent her a
message a few days earlier and received this response. "Of course I remember you, I was hoping
to get to see you again. So I will see you tomorow then to hear your lovely music ya!".
I received this text message at some point during my time at the coffeeshop. "Hey there kory it's lilly! Hope your train ride was good I'm heading up the mtn to snowboard but I will call you when
I'm down to chill before your show." So with some time to kill I put up a craigslist posting for a rideshare to Missoula. I have a lot of friends down there and a few shows lined up to play. I was unsure of bus schedules and all that jazz. I figured it would work itself out. Worse case scenario I could always just hitch it with
a sore thumb til it fell off. I'd done it before in Montana with varied results but I
always got where I needed to be. I called up my really good friend Matt Pierce to
re-connect since my last trip to Montana. He was, as is always the case, really excited
to see me. His hospitality is second to none. Then I called my mom and when she heard my last
resort idea, put $50 in my account and told me to buy a bus ticket, for her peace of mind.
I went to Library and did as I was told, and printed my boarding pass.
Since I was in town and the bars were beginning to open I went to the Great Northern for
some grub and to check out the venue. As I entered I heard the gutterol laughing of
barrel chested lumbering jacks knockin' back shots and beers slappin on backs takin' the
afternoon off away from their women and children. I was immediately asked for my ID and
what the deal is with my guitar was. "Are you playin' tonight?" "Yes, mam." "Who are you?"
"Kory Quinn." "Well we have Russ Nasset playin' tonight." "Really?" "Yup." "Can you double
check for me?" She smiled looked at the chalkboard and pointed. "Russ Nasset. Ain't that
what it says." beggin' me to speak my own fate. "So what would you like?"
"A whiskey and a beer." Damn. I thought as I took this shot of courage. I thought about
what I was gonna say. I called The Booker straight away. Straight to the answering machine.
I left a short message recounting the recent events. I don't think I'll ever be hearing from
them and vice versa. After some wandering around the bar, eating a meal, playing a few games
of pool, smoking stogs. A man approached me and asked what I was doin' with all that gear.
I told him my name and stated my business which now was relegated to loitering, the time
between gigs. David was well traveled himself he said. An architect by trade he spent time
living and/or working in New York, New Jersey, Boston, Austin, Houston, Nashville, Chicago,
Indianapolis, San Juan, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, Eugene, Berkeley, and LA. He suggested
I check out a place called Cooper's. Tonight there would be a guy by the name of John
Dunnigan playing at 8. David advised I introduce myself to him to see if I could sit in with him and play a few tunes. I thanked David very much for the information. He would be coming along a little later to see John and hoped to see me there. So I finished my beer and my game of pool, packed up my gear and took the short walk to Cooper's.
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