Face to Face with a Mountain of a Man

Back when I first started playing “professionally” (and I use that word loosely), I didn’t have much skill.

But I took gigs anyway. Not really sure why—it just pulled me in.

This was before guitar tuners were everywhere. Like Paul Simon said, half the time you’re tuning your guitar… and the other half you’re playing out of tune. That was pretty much me.

My singing wasn’t much better.
No confidence.
No stage presence.
Just sitting there, head down, playing songs I liked and hoping for the best.

Still, I’d pick up a $50 gig here and there.

One night I was down in Reno, playing in a little dive bar.

I was in my usual zone—eyes closed, head down—when I suddenly felt something.

You know that feeling when someone’s standing too close?

This was… a lot.

So I opened my eyes.

At first I just saw a body. Big. Really big.
Then I looked up…

…and kept looking up…

…and there he was.

This absolute mountain of a man standing right in front of me. Long hair, ponytail… kind of a biker-type presence. The kind of guy you don’t ask too many questions.

I glanced up at him—carefully avoiding eye contact—and before I could say anything, he goes:

“I don’t like you.”

Well… that seemed fair.

So I said something like,
“I understand, sir… I’ll just pack up my guitar and be on my way.”

And then—

he breaks into a smile, drops $5 in the tip jar, and walks away chuckling.

At the time, I was terrified and didn’t know what to make of it.

Later, it seemed strange… but I realized he was actually encouraging me.

It gave me the confidence to keep going.