Tampa was cool, really cool. It was one of those gigs that had no expectations. My only requirement was to have fun and that was not a problem. Hanging with my cousin was the highlight without question. He was more into my gig than I was. This was work after all, well sort of, and to him, well I don’t know what it was, but he had an absolute blast. Seeing him so excited about what I do and hearing from him that he tells his friends about me made me feel really good. I think he may even return to G Bar on his own and he even mentioned that he would like to work there. I don’t know if he remembers that, but if he did he would do quite well; he is quite the looker.

Unfortunately this time around you will not be able to see him. I was not about to drag my expensive camera along to this gig. That was a mistake. Not only was I bummed that I could not get a picture of us or the club or the night or, well, let me backtrack a bit.

About a year ago it came to my attention that someone named Vince was sporting a Hazzard emblem tattoo on his opposite shoulder. I did not know whether we had the same artist (which would have really pissed me off) or he purposefully chose to have my tattoo as his own. Either way you sliced the pie the filling was still spoiled. So pan over to the bar Saturday night and I am well into my buzz with my cousin and his buddy when this dude stops up and says hello. He was handsome and looked harmless so I returned the salutation. With that he lifted his shirt and there was my emblem. I was completely dumbfounded. I also noticed that all my ill feelings toward him had left or maybe I was buzzed well enough that nothing was getting me down. After chatting with him for a bit and seeing how excited he was to see me (and finding out that he drove an hour just to see me) there was no way I could harbor any negativity towards the guy. Besides that he was HOT - really HOT! And we all know that always helps any situation. He was so hot that I kissed him, three times. At least now I know that the man can tongue wrestle really well.

Imitation is really the best form of flattery. It was most enjoyable to meet him and it felt nice to be emulated in that way. I suppose though if he had not been the super sweet man he was and was some rabbit cooker with intentions other than to meet and make out with me than I would have had to call security. But he wasn’t. On stage when I was doing my number I was really “feeling it” and I made out with this ADORABLE girl on stage after she gave me a 5 in my crotch. Then Vince came up with nothing but a smile and that was OK. He got a kiss too - a big one!

That probably wasn’t a good choice because that sent a message to the crowd that Johnny would kiss for a dollar. And let me tell you, that is NOT the case! The crowd surged forward waving dollars back and forth with their tongues wagging about. I was instantly taken back to “Star Wars: Return of the Jedi” when Princess Leia strangled Jabba the Hut and that brown pasty tongue of his popped out of his mouth all covered with spit and whatnot. I was not feeling it so much then and was looking for a way out. I contemplated feigning a seizure just to escape the salivating men that were collecting in front of the stage. Luckily the manager sensed my troubles and announced that I would be in the back signing autographs. I thought I would be safe back there away from horny masses. I should have known better.

In the back of the room the guys who weren’t in the front of the stage had a chance to ask me for a kiss directly with no barrier and no Vince or cute girl. I really could not believe that they thought this was acceptable. I gave a couple of guys a peck on the cheek, much to their chagrin, but it was better than my usual “No, I will not give you a kiss.” That was a good lesson to learn, reserve the self-indulging behavior for before and after the stage show. It was fun though. My hangover was not. I drank a lot of water all night but it wasn’t enough to curb the headache from dehydration and the shots of peach Jaggermeister that were freely dispensed to Joe and me.

Of course the flight from Tampa to Atlanta was THE WORST. I was in the middle of two large men that were spilling over their seats. One was so big that the armrest was hurting him so he lifted it, thus pouring his slack into my lap and onto my shoulder. I prayed to God that we didn’t have to wait for any reason and that we took off and landed without a hitch. My prayers were answered, 74 mins later I was pulled out from under the flesh that had consumed me in 18E. The next flight was less constricted and I got a window seat and had a recovery nap because I still had to drive from LAX to Palm Springs. That sort of excessive, uninhibited drinking is not a good idea when one has to fly on two planes across the country unless one is in first class. Lessons lived. Lessons learned the hard headache way.

Now seated on a Delta flight bound for Tampa I can honestly say this is the highest I have ever been while making a blog entry. In Tampa I will be performing at a club called “G Lounge” but the real excitement for me will be seeing my cousin Joe for the first time in about 12 years. Our family had a ridiculous argument that resulted in a division on my mom’s side that left some of the cousins at a loose end. The kid has grown up and is one of the most well adjusted 25-year-olds that I have ever seen. He reminds me of myself at that age! Well, give or take a few minor details…

It amazes me that after all the hype about “Homeland Security” and all the airport dramas with restrictions on shampoo and mouthwash that people still carry on as if they’ve never flown before; much less switched on the news this century. I mean how do people expect to walk up to a METAL DETECTOR with about a pound of metal distributed on them from head to toe in the name of fashion? I heard the attendant exclaim twice in a very slow, condescending tone “You are walking through a metal detector that detects metal, please remove all metal objects.”

When it came to my turn I had my lap top removed and placed in its own basket - just like the numerous signs indicated it should be. I had removed my shoes, even though they were flip flops (what else?). There was no metal on me anywhere and all I had in my hands was my boarding pass. The woman in front of me had missed the signs and apparently the last two years. She shuffled up to the detector clad in armor; a belt that wrapped around her waist four times, and several bracelets on each of her wrists. She had not removed her shoes or the shoes of her offspring that was drooling onto the floor. I knew exactly what was going to happen as if I were watching a TV show that I had seen a thousand times again.

She was asked to remove her gladiator issued belt, her shoes, accessories and the slobbering child from her person and put them all through the X ray. He asked her to put he child through just for fun and in the hopes to disarm the disgruntled people that were standing behind her barefoot waiting for her to comply with TSA regulations. She was not amused although I sure as hell was. She, of course, did not have her boarding pass with her as she went through the detector and had to flag down her equally unaware husband who had her pass in his back pocket. It would be so great if people could get it together just enough to stop impeding my every move.

On my way to the terminal I came across a man with those wireless Bluetooth headphones that double as a phone. He was talking to somebody jokingly in the middle of the walkway, pacing back and forth, laughing and smiling. He was dressed rather outlandishly with sunglasses on and he looked like he was a shizophrenic comedian. I sat down behind him on a bench and had my morning coffee watching all the people walking past him with confused and sometimes alarmed looks on their faces. I don’t know why they looked that confused or concerned, this was after all LA.

Hopefully this gig in Florida will be fun. At least I know I’ll have a great time catching up with my cousin. I’m a bit fed up with traveling for now and look forward to getting back home again. This time for more than a few days.

Half way through Nevada I had an intense craving for a Red Hook, a local brew here that is one of my favorites. So I put the pedal to the metal and went as fast as I could. After drinking 3 rather quickly I was ready for bed.

My friend Kevin, who was gracious enough to offer me lodging in the city once again, decided that we were going to get up early and hit the gym. This would be my first time picking up weights in about 3 weeks and I was so looking forward to it. At 7:30 we woke and I went out to check Milo and get the bagels that we had been traveling with to toast for breakfast. As I was walking up 14th St I noticed that there was a piece of paper on the street that had the listings for Sirius Radio. How odd I thought, I have Sirius Radio, and before I could begin to process this finding I looked in Milo’s cab to see the contents of the back in the front and the window in a thousand pieces. Yup, Milo had been violated!

My first thought was my father. You see, I had his ashes in a small urn in the suitcase that was now all over the truck. I had not gone through it enough to know what had been taken; it was a mess, an absolute mess. The though of my dad being gone, again, was enough to make me throw up. I then thought “good”, I hope they did take him because he is going to kick some serious ass from the spirit world and make their crack-head lives miserable.

They left dad and oddly enough left the radio face, my Sirius transmitter and everything else. They sifted through everything and made a serious mess, but the only thing they took was my change, my sunglasses and my headset. Kevin said that this sort of thing is typical; they are junkies looking for money. They also took my back pack after displacing the contents. I guess mine was the first stop on a smash spree and they needed a shopping bag. I loved that bag. But it could have been so much worse and I am really glad it went down this way.

I have a cover that locks so I can keep all my shit in the bed and one of the latches broke in Death Valley. There was still the one working on the other side, but a couple strong lifts and tugs could have easily broken it open. We debated whether or not to fix it then or wait till the next morning in San Fran. We opted for a stop at Home Depot in Carson City and Scott, thank god, was able to make the repair. I cannot even begin to think of what may have happened if we didn’t take care of that.

Petty looting aside, it’s great to be back in San Francisco. Aside from being a little shaken, Milo was OK. I was truly lucky, dad was watching out for us I’m sure.

The drive to Death Valley last night was really annoying. It was dark and the road was loooooooong. Driving that long with no visual stimulation has a tendency to really screw with my head. Naturally, everything had closed and we had to have canned tuna for dinner. The hotel room had no phone, no internet and no TV. And there was a typed sign on the sink telling us not to drink the water. Scott informed me after I threw a minor fit that the sign at the registration desk had said it was OK to drink the water. I was a bit weary about the whole thing and drank my green tea that I had in the truck. Did I mention that the price for the hotel was twice as much as our trusty Super 8? This did not sit well with me, but Scott promised that come morning I would be really happy that we were here because not only is the land spectacular, but the nearest motel was about 40 minutes away.

He was right, it was awesome. The roads seemed to go on to eternity and the valley was beautiful. The valley is home to the lowest point in the US at 238 ft below sea level and it is in the Badwater Basin, a salt lake bed, now dry, that constantly fills and dries with the varying rains of the season. We hiked around a bit and took some really cool shots of the lengthy road.

The drive out of here was mostly up hills and down them. It was not only hard on Milo, but I was beginning to get sick of it as well. Going through Carson City and Reno almost did me in. The speed limit fluctuated from 65 to 35 to 25 to 45 back to 25 and then back to 65. I absolutely hate going 25 mph and to have to do it over and over again with the addition of traffic lights was about enough to send me over the edge. However, the promise of reaching San Fransisco tonight was enough to keep me sane and strong. We arrived at 10. I was so done and Milo was begging for a rest. I love this city and am so happy to be here. Total mileage: 4312.