Salem turned into rain nonstop:
Damn, Salem. Despite going through the process of the permit it hadn’t really been worthwhile. Or maybe it had. We were offered a gig (we turned it down, it was for the next weekend) and we got props from all the townspeople. We learned that we make more money off locals than tourists, and, we sold CDs.
We also earned a pipe, a compass, ideas about theremins, benefited from food pantry food, found a dirty child’s baby doll
re-connected with Rob, a fellow busker who dropped us $20 after playing Violent Femmes with us one drunken Wednesday night last year when we were even broker hitchhikers. Rob was the cause of our learning Sweet Caroline and heading to Fenway Park to play the Sox game, although we didn’t make $400 from it like he claimed!
It was an interesting trip, but the busking spot was played out. After 3 days in a row, people’s curiosity was satisfied and it was time to move on.
Well, I have a confession to make: