The nondescript hotel in Essington I'm staying at with another vendor during this weekend series seems to have a contingent of roadies from the Grateful Dead tour also here. Among them are a few vendors of Grateful Dead tie-dye shirts and Grateful Dead silver jewelry and other assorted Grateful Dead memorabilia. I chatted with one whose roo
m was next door to mine, and it seems a parallel world of travel, and relying on event attendees for sales, and contending with weather. They run more as individual businesses (having to procure licenses, et al.) than we do, though, and I don't envy them their lifestyle, even if they guy next door winters in Thailand between summertime tours.
Summer, at this point in early May, still seems a long way off. All morning the rain came down outside the window, spattering the broken asphalt of a gray parking lot. It would sometimes leave only a light spatter in the big puddle outside for a while, but then resume as a steady pour without every fully letting up, and more on the way from the West. It was five minutes before noon when the man on ESPN announced that the game had been called, and I and my roommate skipped town a few hours earlier than expected, heading into the endless spattering cloud all the way down 95.
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