Hi Folks
I just got home from a gruelling trip. Last Wednesday we were once again required to travel to the US. There were three shows that we owed the people of Maine and Connecticut. 
I’m not making a political statement, it’s always been this way to a degree, but going to the US is like visiting good friends who live on the other side of a moat with alligators.
Barry and Rick showed up here at my house around noon with an SUV  that Barry had rented.
I packed a keyboard, my bag of cables and a suitcase into the back of the vehicle and jumped aboard.
Barry backed the large vehicle to the end of my driveway, turned to me and asked:
“Which way to highway 401?”
“You mean the QEW,” I replied, referencing our Queen Elizabeth Way, the most god-forsaken, soul-sucking strip of asphalt in Canada. 
“No,” Rick corrected, “We’re going over the top and down.”
Statements like that can only have meaning to people who’ve spent forty or more years trying to make sense out of each other. He was saying that we were going to cross the US border east of Montreal rather than the much closer Fort Erie/Buffalo. 
“That’ll give the authorities more time to okay our working status.”
“We don’t have visas yet?” I asked, hoping it was a joke.
“No. We’re hoping for later today or tomorrow.”
So we began a fourteen-hour trek, not knowing if we would even be allowed into the US.
To complicate matters, Bill, our lead guitarist, was travelling from Medicine Hat in southern Alberta. His journey had him driving to Calgary, catching a flight to Montreal where he could obtain US pre-clearance and then getting another flight to Boston. Once there, he planned to rent a car for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Boothbay, Maine. If all went well, he was to arrive an hour before the show on Thursday. 
Add to that, our singer and rhythm guitarist, Andy, was flying from Florida to Boston, where he had to make his way up to Maine.
With all those variables, the odds were stacked heavily in favour of something screwing up. And something did. But first:

The Governor Called

During our tense eight-hour drive to the Eastern Townships of Quebec, some last-minute negotiations with US customs and immigration by our rep in Toronto bore fruit. We got the thumbs-up to play shows down there for the rest of the year. 

The Gogs Of Magog

When we arrived at the Sherbrooke-Magog area in Quebec’s Eastern Townships, we drove around for forty-five minutes trying to find a hotel that wasn’t “quaint”. We hate “quaint”. We needed an austere, no-frills Comfort Inn or a Marriott Express. There were four guitars, a keyboard and suitcases that needed to go inside, and it’s always nice not to have to take them down long hallways and up narrow staircases. We found a Quality Inn on the far side of Sherbrooke that served our needs.
We still had another six-hour drive to Boothbay, Maine, that included a border crossing, so we left at 9 am the next morning. 

Your Papers Please

Although it took longer than we’d hoped to get processed at the border, I have to say that the officials we dealt with were very nice and treated us with respect. There was even some laughing and quipping…… after, of course, the photographs and fingerprints. 
So we proceeded south through the breathtaking scenery of western Maine and arrived at the venue in Boothbay at 4 pm.

The Red Flag Snag

Meanwhile, even though Bill had all the correct paperwork with him, they weren’t allowing him to enter the US during pre-clearance in Montreal. 
Finally, through the intervention of our musician’s union representative in Toronto who spoke directly to the border official, Bill was cleared and made it onto his flight with just minutes to spare. After landing in Boston, there was still at least a three-hour drive to the gig. With no time left to rent a car, he talked an Uber driver into taking him up to Boothbay. He arrived just less than an hour before the first set.
What a relief. I had started working out some of his parts on the keyboards. Things like the solo in Sundown and the intro to The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald. 
We put on a great performance to a sell-out crowd. Close to flawless. Amazing. 
The next day we got up early for the almost five-hour drive to Old Saybrook, CT. I was stunned to find out that there are two eight o’clocks in one day. We were well into Massachusetts before I was fully conscious. 

Hollywood Royalty

We didn’t want to be Late For The Kate (thanks Bill). Old Saybrook was the lifelong residence of multi-Oscar-winning actress Katharine Hepburn. The cultural centre named after her is known affectionately as The Kate. That’s where we would be playing.
“Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we were put in this world to rise above.”
“Lady, I may be a born fool, but you got ten absurd ideas to my one, and don’t you forget it”
Hepburn and Bogart, 1951, The African Queen. A little bit campy by modern standards but a classic nonetheless. One of my favourite old films.
FYI, those lines are not consecutive. 
We were there for two sold-out nights. 

CODA

On Sunday we left for home, an eight- or nine-hour journey (depending on the order in which we were dropped off), completing, as I said earlier, a grueling road trip.
Was it worth it? Absolutely, but maybe I should just speak for myself. It was quite a bit more arduous for Bill. And it had to be taxing for Barry. He rented the SUV and did all the driving. That was above and beyond the call. Rick had to wear two hats. Bass player and tour manager. Warren wasn’t with us. Andy had to fly to Boston and then drive the 3 1/2 hours to Boothbay. 
Thanks, guys!