I was a mixture of panic, determination, and bafflement. First night in Nashville and I lost my money clip containing my cash, my cards, and my ID. It was nowhere, it was gone, it was a disaster. The details are too inconceivable to explain, but that money clip was found on the 3rd floor of a parking garage, left there for a full hour while I drove around downtown, frantically retracing my movements, ransacking my condo, and searching every conceivable interior space of my 2011 Toyota Camery. As I drove up the 3 floors for a final peek of my last known parking spot, I prayed specifically over and over, "God, please let me find my money clip, please God, let me find my money clip."
The ramifications would've been extreme, all remedies seemed outlandish, it would've been a road trip ruiner for sure. I was hard on myself during the search, vulgar and unrelenting, tunes turned off. As I got to the spot all I could see was what looked like a squashed beer can. Upon closer inspection, and with squinting eyes, I muttered "Good Lord" as my body released all its tension. Found my money clip on a 3rd floor parking garage in the middle of Nashville, untouched, intact, a miracle.
The next night wasn't much better. I was looking forward to catching a show at the famous Bluebird Cafe. Surely, Sunday night would be a light crowd, perhaps even a chance to jump up on stage and play an original song, or two. I naively miscalculated, the small venue was flooded with people, there was a long, sad line for suckers without tickets, my 2nd, and last, night in Nashville was a bust, too. Neon shrines to Johnny Cash and Kid Rock lit up Broadway and 3rd as I called it a night, but they weren't around, got no plans of making it in Nashville.