I discovered Pat Green in the spring of 2002. It was my last semester of college and though my friends didn't understand, roadtripping was a thing of beauty, especially when a dancehall was on the other end. I quickly met more and more people who felt the same way as me and new friends were born. It was my birth, as it were.
Tonight, the era of Pat Green came to an end for me. The PG brand sticker that I had proudly driven 1000s of miles came off. It was bittersweet remembering all those shows- all the good times. It's time, though. I haven't bought Pat's last two albums, nor do I have plans to go see him on his tour with Kenny Chesney. I have great gratitude for the musical door he opened for me, though. Pat led me to Cross Canadian Ragweed who led me to Roger Creager (if you can believe it) and Cory Morrow. From there it was a free for all. Musicians coming out of the woodwork, it seemed. An entire movement that I was lucky enough to be a part of and witness anytime I wanted.
Nacogdoches to Ruston to Dallas to Houston on to San Antone and New Braunfels for Gruene Hall. Stillwater, Fort Worth, Tulsa and Oklahoma City, Waco, Seattle and Shreveport. Abilene, Steamboat and Boise, Nashville and Challis. Can't forget Cancun.
It's been a good trip. I may be slowing down, but I'm far from out. I've got a few trips left to take. This past weekend is a perfect example. I managed to go out three nights in a row and lived to tell. Those of you who know me, know I haven't managed that feat in quite a while.
Four tequila shots
And I did it with no arm twisting what so ever. I'd like to say "I'm back!", but let's face it. I'm worn out. I puked for pete's sake. I'm a fuddy dud and I like it.