I packed a lot of things to come to Nashville for the Americana Music Association conference. One thing I didn't intend to pack came along for the ride: Mr. Murphy, and his law.
When I arrived I discovered the battery in my laptop was dead. Not "let's recharge it" dead; rather, "let's put that warranty to good use and get a new battery" dead. Then the dive -- sorry, motel -- I stayed in had no wireless (despite advertising to the contrary).
Ah, but it gets better. I left the Porter Wagoner tribute to discover I had a four-inch nail in my right front tire. I pulled a Charlie Daniels ("eased on down the shoulder on the rim") and went to Nashville's fine dining establishment, Taco Belch (I shouldn't criticize the home of the runs from the border, since they are based in Louisville). My $60 annual fee to the American Automobile Association for roadside assistance earned me a three-hour wait at the Taco Bell for a tire change, so I opted to drive about a mile to Beaman Toyota, where their lot attendant graciously changed the tire.
Ah, but that driving doomed the tire, and the morning was spent "with the boys down at Firestone," to quote a line from the Bottle Rockets' "Indianapolis." Instead of just pulling the nail out and patching the tire, I needed a completely new tire. All is not completely Murphy Law in the tale, however, as I did have hazard insurance on the tire, so the new $70 tire cost me $28 for installation.
This, however, did cause me to miss the opening portion of the one panel I wanted to attend this morning: a seminar on the "Voices Across Time" project, which was the brainchild of panel member and former Attorney General Janet Reno.
Thankfully, things are calm now. The battery in the laptop has revived itself, although it isn't necessary because there are A/C outlets near tables where the wireless is coming in clear. It's nearly lunch time, and the conference is going quite well. I have a new hotel for the rest of the conference, and hopefully I can track down Lifetime Achievement Award recipient Joe Ely this evening.
And, hopefully, I can find a dark alley and dump Mr. Murphy and his "whatever can go wrong" law there.