May 29 – On this trip, Kirsti played a variety of gigs. From on an outdoor patio in Breckenridge, Colorado with dogs and kids, to a late-night biker-ish bar in Amarillo, Texas. But the first gig was at an El Salvadoran restaurant in D.C. called Haydee’s.

She was nervous, in part because we were literally millimeters away from a head-on Uber crash on the way there.

But she was nervous for a lot of reasons and my constant jokes, encouragement and even a beer weren’t really helping. She barely touched her meal.

It was quiet in there too, which I’m sure was upsetting to her. She wondered if anyone would show up? She goofed when she booked the date and Haydee’s doesn’t normally have music on Wednesday, but the owner graciously agreed to have her play anyway.

The place is apparently known for live music, evidenced by the already set-up sound system. It was also super eccentric, with a striking, huge painting of the owner, Haydee, above the bar.

Haydee still runs it too, but her little boy in the painting with her was now a very large man, seated nearby. Haydee was stunning in the painting, and still very striking. Her English wasn’t great and I speak no Spanish, so our interaction was limited to her offering me a drink on the house and saying something about how she liked Kirsti’s voice.

The place had strung multicolored lights, flags from England, the U.S. and El Salvador, and lots of pictures of Haydee mixed in with pictures of food and the Virgin Mary.

It was a little awkward for me too, because she was literally playing for 10-12 people much of the night.

While dining before the gig, we chatted with a couple seated nearby. The 40-something year-old man and his second wife, or maybe girlfriend, were eating and started a conversation with us when Kirsti came back to the table from setting up.

He talked a ton about his daughter, whom he said was also a performer. He was an interesting character, pretty cocky too, but nice enough. And when they finished eating and after Kirsti started playing, he sauntered up and made a big deal out of tipping her, flopping the $5 bill over the edge of the jug for all to see.

There was a couple from Upstate New York at the bar for a little while, but they left. I chatted with a man next to me at the bar, and bought him a beer. He liked Kirsti’s music and we made small talk, including him telling me how he lived nearby and was caring for an elderly friend.

A bunch of men were in an open upstairs room above the bar I assumed playing poker, only to later learn it was actually dominos. Some would occasionally come down for a drink or the restroom. On one trip, one of them tipped her and complimented her voice. 

I think her biggest thrill of the night for her came from getting followed on Instagram by a young man who came in with a girl late in the show and sat up close to her and really engaged in her music. She told me later that he actually messaged her revealing that his date was getting jealous because he kept staring at her! Another young couple loved her slowed-down version of “Cleopatra” by the Lumineers and commented on it.

The gig I’m sure wasn’t what Kirsti expected, but she got paid $200, got a fair amount of applause and was relieved to have it done, I think. I was too, because aside from the one El Salvadoran man I chatted with, I was pretty much alone on a bar stool feeling a bit awkward myself.

While in D.C. before the gig, we walked the city and strolled by the White House. It struck me that virtually everybody mingling in front of the historic home for our presidents was of foreign dissent, the type of person the current president seemed to have an issue with. It just struck me as so ironic.

One of the great moments in D.C. came when we returned to the Airbnb after the gig to find Stephen Sechrist, from Williamsburg, Virginia (formerly of Rochester, New York) sitting in the living room. Bedrooms were separate in this place, but the kitchen, living room and bathroom were shared.

I planned to smoke a cigar on the back patio and have a beer to end the night and asked if he wanted to join and have the extra cigar I had. He did, and the three of us proceeded to visit for an hour or so. We learned that his wife was German and that they were soon moving with their three sons to Germany. It was a great way to exhale for us all I think. He had been in meetings all day and we had been pretty stressed about the first gig.

After emailing him to chat for this book, Stephen responded in June of 2020 – as the COVID-19 pandemic ramped up.

He told me they moved to Germany about a month after I met him, that he’s working for a college and his wife is an elementary teacher. He said more is expected of students there than in the U.S., but that his boys were adjusting. He also said Germany seemed to be dealing with the pandemic better than his homeland.

And in capping our email chat in July 2020, he wrote this: “When I write in my journal, I often think about the people or situations I encounter and how serendipitous life can be. Had I booked another Airbnb or had I gone out late that night, I would have missed out on meeting you two and the great conversation we had.”

It was great to meet him too, another kind person along our way.

Tune in next week for Nashville Tears. Probably the low point of the trip.