How I Ended Lyle Lovett's Music Career

Last Thursday I left Columbus and the euphoria of watching the U.S. National Soccer team beat up on Mexico to head for Athens, Ohio - home to college students, ghosts, and my friend Jill Okey.

Jill works in Admissions at Ohio University, and as I sat in Jill's office watching her give directions, organize, and care for her co-works and students, I realize just how immature I am.

Jill is one of those incredibly strong people that worries too much (but worries for all the right reasons and always worries for others before herself). I am (at times) the type of person who only worries about myself, but I worry about the most inane, useless things. I worry what others think about me - to the point that I'd rather stay in bed than walk upstairs and talk to my roommates. Jill worries out of love (and i love her for it). I worry out of uncertainty and confusion. (and i am uncertain and confused about why).

How I Ended Lyle Lovett's Music Career

Before I visited Jill at her office, I parked on a side street where all of the parking meters had plastic bags over the meter heads. This is one of those things I should have worried about, but my brain figured, "Well, they all must of be out of order! Aren't I luck to have found this great parking spot."

Fast forward to 4:45 p.m. - Jill needed to turn in her grad school application before 5 so I offer to drive. But as I approach my too-good-to-be-true parking spot, I realize that my trusty silver Honda Civic been replaced by a large tour bus. After scratching my head a few times and Jill making a few phone calls, we discover that my car has been towed... because there is a Lyle Lovett concert tonight, and I parked Mr. Lovett's spot.

Now, I realize being momentarily unemployed and losing a 120 dollars for such a stupid reason should really worry me, but it doesn't. Actually, it amuses me.

I picture Lyle Lovett anxiously running his hands through his Brillo pad hair as the tow truck driver hooks the back of my car to the truck. Mr. Lovett's road manager stands next to the aging musician taping his foot and checking his watch over and over. They both look at the driver of the equipment truck, who shrugs at the line of traffic growing behind him.

As the tow truck driver slowly pulls the lever to raise my car off the ground, some 19-year-old frat boy starts honking his horn like an idiot. Lyle cusses under his breath as his annoyed stare meets the annoyed stare of the idiot-frat-boy. In this moment, Lyle realizes his career has hit rock-bottom because he knows this honking-idiot has never listened to a Lyle Lovett song, and doesn't care if he did once sleep with Julia Roberts.

Who wouldn't pay a 120 dollars to incite such a beautiful moment?

Chicago stories start tomorrow... see you then friends.