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Gonzo Report: Dirt on the boots, country on the water
Lee Brice under the Pisces Moon on a City Cruise
I tell Livvy to be ready. It’s going to be a drive-by pick up. There’s no time to fuck around. A concert that’s on an underway boat means you can’t be late — and I’m running late. A show at a land venue allows people the comfort of tardiness, but if we miss this ship’s departure, I will have lost my chance to see Lee Brice on a City Cruise, and I will have lost my story. It’s November, so swimming to the boat is not an option. I still have dirt on my boots from the horse track. No time to change them; the dust comes with. When I pull up to Livvy’s, she's standing on the stoop outside her door wearing a pink wig. Oh. Cool.
“Who’s Breed Lice, anyway?” she asks.
“He’s a country guy,” I reply. “We’re going to find out. I don’t know much about him either. And it’s Lee Brice.”
Luckily, I find a spot to park on Harbor Drive just across the street from the Star of India. I’m still a little uneasy about parking anywhere Downtown, ever since being towed a couple months ago. That time, I didn’t see the second sign saying I couldn’t park from a certain time to a certain time. Parking in the city is getting more and more tricky. They know what they’re doing. What’s worse, they know they’re fucked up for doing it. Sounds like I need a country song. Let’s go.
The large line to the SS Hornblower reassures me that we aren’t going to miss the boat. We jump in it. It’s cowboy boots, flannel, beer and excitable boys making monster truck noises. Livvy says something about the moon being watery and in Pisces. “The depth of feeling in the unconscious is really high when the moon is in Pisces.” As we board, I tell her that it’s okay to eat fish because they don’t have any feelings. She gets the Nirvana reference but still argues that Pisces have the most feelings. Moon chicks…
We walk through the cabin below deck. It’s elegant. Tables where the VIPs can enjoy a fancy dinner before the show are scattered beneath gently lit chandeliers. My comped tickets didn’t include the dinner option, so we go to the top deck with the rest of the peasants. It’s comfortable, with a light Bay breeze. It’s where I belong. Hungry and on watch. But Livvy should eat, so after a bit, we go back down below deck and snag her a plate of food and some sweets from the dessert bar. The lights begin to flicker. It’s a small thrill. We’re officially underway. We go back up to the outdoor top deck to catch Lee Brice’s one man show as the dark night sky hovers over the city’s light-bulb defenses
Leaning on the rails, Livvy and I hang near the fantail, watching the bubbles rise from the boat’s booty. We’re chugging along as Lee Brice tells stories with his guitar. The atmosphere is fun. The blue collars are getting drunk and enjoying themselves. It’s what they paid for, an earned intoxication.
Then, as we pass under the Coronado bridge into the South Bay, the crowd erupts into cheering. You can tell that the cheers have nothing to do with Brice’s act. People are on their phones. Did somebody just cure cancer? No: the Dodgers just won the World Series. Considering we're in San Diego, I thought there would be more jeers than cheers, but I guess the Pisces moon has people feeling something else. The crowd gets even more rowdy. Lee Brice seems confused for a moment, but he's a pro, and he amps up his jam session to match the energy of the crowd.
When we pull back into port, I’m reminded of how eager people are to get off boats as I watch a drunken mob swarm the exit hatches. It’s like the climactic scene from Titanic when the ship’s going down. Only everyone’s sauced up and going into a warm city rather than an icy Atlantic Ocean. Women and children first! Actually, it’s Lee Brice who’s first. He waves at us as we watch him go down the ramp and into the night. He’s done his duty for the evening.
Livvy and I get back on land and begin walking down the sidewalk back toward Seaport Village. The Star of India is lit up. The Pisces moon is rippling in the water. Somewhere in it, a fish doesn’t know it’s a fish, or even what the hell water is, for that matter. My car is still where I parked it. The day is done. We’re still having fun.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Dirt on the boots, country on the water
Lee Brice under the Pisces Moon on a City Cruise
Gonzo Report: Dirt on the boots, country on the water
Lee Brice under the Pisces Moon on a City Cruise
I tell Livvy to be ready. It’s going to be a drive-by pick up. There’s no time to fuck around. A concert that’s on an underway boat means you can’t be late — and I’m running late. A show at a land venue allows people the comfort of tardiness, but if we miss this ship’s departure, I will have lost my chance to see Lee Brice on a City Cruise, and I will have lost my story. It’s November, so swimming to the boat is not an option. I still have dirt on my boots from the horse track. No time to change them; the dust comes with. When I pull up to Livvy’s, she's standing on the stoop outside her door wearing a pink wig. Oh. Cool.
“Who’s Breed Lice, anyway?” she asks.
“He’s a country guy,” I reply. “We’re going to find out. I don’t know much about him either. And it’s Lee Brice.”
Luckily, I find a spot to park on Harbor Drive just across the street from the Star of India. I’m still a little uneasy about parking anywhere Downtown, ever since being towed a couple months ago. That time, I didn’t see the second sign saying I couldn’t park from a certain time to a certain time. Parking in the city is getting more and more tricky. They know what they’re doing. What’s worse, they know they’re fucked up for doing it. Sounds like I need a country song. Let’s go.
The large line to the SS Hornblower reassures me that we aren’t going to miss the boat. We jump in it. It’s cowboy boots, flannel, beer and excitable boys making monster truck noises. Livvy says something about the moon being watery and in Pisces. “The depth of feeling in the unconscious is really high when the moon is in Pisces.” As we board, I tell her that it’s okay to eat fish because they don’t have any feelings. She gets the Nirvana reference but still argues that Pisces have the most feelings. Moon chicks…
We walk through the cabin below deck. It’s elegant. Tables where the VIPs can enjoy a fancy dinner before the show are scattered beneath gently lit chandeliers. My comped tickets didn’t include the dinner option, so we go to the top deck with the rest of the peasants. It’s comfortable, with a light Bay breeze. It’s where I belong. Hungry and on watch. But Livvy should eat, so after a bit, we go back down below deck and snag her a plate of food and some sweets from the dessert bar. The lights begin to flicker. It’s a small thrill. We’re officially underway. We go back up to the outdoor top deck to catch Lee Brice’s one man show as the dark night sky hovers over the city’s light-bulb defenses
Leaning on the rails, Livvy and I hang near the fantail, watching the bubbles rise from the boat’s booty. We’re chugging along as Lee Brice tells stories with his guitar. The atmosphere is fun. The blue collars are getting drunk and enjoying themselves. It’s what they paid for, an earned intoxication.
Then, as we pass under the Coronado bridge into the South Bay, the crowd erupts into cheering. You can tell that the cheers have nothing to do with Brice’s act. People are on their phones. Did somebody just cure cancer? No: the Dodgers just won the World Series. Considering we're in San Diego, I thought there would be more jeers than cheers, but I guess the Pisces moon has people feeling something else. The crowd gets even more rowdy. Lee Brice seems confused for a moment, but he's a pro, and he amps up his jam session to match the energy of the crowd.
When we pull back into port, I’m reminded of how eager people are to get off boats as I watch a drunken mob swarm the exit hatches. It’s like the climactic scene from Titanic when the ship’s going down. Only everyone’s sauced up and going into a warm city rather than an icy Atlantic Ocean. Women and children first! Actually, it’s Lee Brice who’s first. He waves at us as we watch him go down the ramp and into the night. He’s done his duty for the evening.
Livvy and I get back on land and begin walking down the sidewalk back toward Seaport Village. The Star of India is lit up. The Pisces moon is rippling in the water. Somewhere in it, a fish doesn’t know it’s a fish, or even what the hell water is, for that matter. My car is still where I parked it. The day is done. We’re still having fun.
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