If you’ve ever traveled through an airport or train station carrying an instrument or strange-looking gear, you will know that folks love to make conversation about it. When I’m flying from Nashville or elsewhere in the south, most people say something along the lines of “Oh, the entertainment has arrived,”or “You gonna play something for us?”, which makes me laugh because, I’m carrying a banjo. Do you really want that?
This week, I made the poor decision to take all my instruments and suitcases (merch, sound gear, etc) with me on the train between Northampton and NYC, and then again between NYC and DC. I had SO much to carry. It was absurd. I was blocking aisles, slowing down boarding, falling on my face, and generally making a scene.
As I walked slowly towards the elevator at Penn Station in New York, balancing a guitar on one roller suitcase and a banjo on the other, fiddle and backpack slung over my back, an older man eyed me, clearly unimpressed.
He was a typical New Yorker to my eyes, dressed in baggy and rumpled suiting which varied in color from charcoal to black. With a deadpan expression, in the thickest New York accent, he turned to me and said “Weyas yeh Pianow?”
“Damn,” I said. “I forgot it!”
This was a perfect representation of the regional cultural differences between the North and South, and it got me thinking about the specific comments folks might make in other parts of the country.
When I played in DC, I told the audience this story, and asked what they think the DC version of this comment might be, and the response was pretty universally, “Who do you work for?” Of course, I thought, that makes sense.
After the show, we were loading the van in the back alley of the venue and some intoxicated dude-bros walked by. One of them yelled out, I kid you not, “Who do you guys play for?”
I quickly replied “Billy Strings!” which is my favorite answer to this question lately, and one which resulted in excitement, confusion, and then silence, in rapid succession, as they stumbled away.
Last night we played in Elkton, MD, and I asked the audience what the Elkton version of this public commentary might be. A couple of folks yelled out “Are you married yet?”, which I wasn’t sure how to take. After the show, a few folks explained to me that Elkton, MD, (which is a truly confusing location for a beautiful venue, the Elkton Music Hall, which I have now played at twice), was at one point the marriage capital of the world.
Apparently, when folks needed to tie the knot quickly, or didn’t want to have blood tests (sister-wife anyone?), or otherwise needed a lax marital system, Elkton was the SPOT. It was kind of like the Vegas of the East Coast in that way, run down to the chapel and get married on the spot!
Here’s an article from TIME about this phenomenon.
(photo courtesy of above article)
So there’s my random ramble for the week. It’s rainy here in NYC and I’m hoping to snag a croissant and have a real cozy day.
With love and pastry,
Rachel
Great show at Pearl Street. I also enjoyed seeing you at Hamlin Street Diner last year.
My parents, I believe, were married in Elkton, MD. 🤰