Blogging has been slow over the last five days as I’ve been on the road but now I’m back. It was a great trip except for one thing: the airplane killed my guitar.
I’m so angry. I knew taking it on the plane was risky but I thought I took all the right precautions: I convinced the people at the check-in counter that I had to carry it on, it never left my side and there were no other bags in the overhead compartment. But then a few hours after arriving, I pulled it out of its bag and find that the air pressure had snapped the wood on the head-stock, essentially killing it. FUBAR status. Basically, repairing it will cost more than buying a new one.
This reminds me of a story I read in Eric Clapton’s autobiography. Way back in the early ’70’s Clapton saw a guitar that he knew his friend Jimi Hendrix would just love. So he bought it and brought it to a club where expected to run into him. Except Hendrix never showed up because this was the night he passed away, and so whenever Clapton saw this particular guitar model he was overcome with a deep sense of sadness. I feel Clapton’s pain as I type this post while staring at my mashed-up guitar. But unlike Clapton, I don’t have guitar companies competing to give me their best equipment for free ( at least not yet), so I have to go out and buy a whole new guitar. Just what I felt like doing.
So the moral of the story is loosen your strings when you fly. Also, regular blogging is back at MediaShack.
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