The other night, I made my solo debut as a musician in front of a small gathering of 200 or so people. It all happened so fast that I didn't even have time to create a setlist, instead I just played whatever came to mind, making up a lot of it as I went along. I mainly played the guitar, however at one point during the performance, I used my hands to beat out rhythms against the stage, the wall, my legs, anything I could find. For some reason, this entertained the crowd.
Between sets, I went upstairs and mingled with the crowd. The venue itself was the most interesting part. It was inside what looked like a nice barn. It was entirely wooden with a low level stage at one end. Above the main floor, there was a balcony that circled the stage on 3 sides. However, the floor of the balcony wasn't "finished." Instead, there were gaps between the floorboards, almost like joists. Well, they probably were joists.
The sad part of the entire evening is that I wanted someone to be there that night, but she wasn't there. I was able to see her the next day and tell her about it, but it wasn't the same.
Also, Michael Bublé played the night before me and I kicked his ass.