It’s the final weekend of preparation before we head to Austin for what we hope will be an exuberant experience for The Fog. Our crew consists of many SXSW veterans. I am not one of them...

So, I've been keeping an ear to the ground, listening for chatter that might keep me prepared for whatever mayhem could come our way. I’m not sure if our Music Fog web maven Ben Krech is trying to psych me out, but his take on the state of affairs is pretty much this: “Watch your shit." He tells me there is so much demand for things like mic cables and portable mixing boards, that one thoughtless move could lead to disaster.

Then there's Jessie Scott. I get three or four calls a day from her. Most of them consist of a change of plan. One night we are sleeping on the Celebrity Coach bus. Then suddenly Todd Snider is giving up a room in a motel that all six of us can shack-up in for one night...NO WAIT, another change of plan: Jessie has now decided to enroll us all in "The Church of The Gooey Death" so we can crash in their garage. She says it’s okay because her husband used to deliver beer there and Ray Wylie Hubbard stays there all the time! Never mind the tarantellas and the bat poop. Then she’ll ask me something like “Do you own a metric socket tool set?” then hang up... 

I have to go now, Jessie is calling again wondering if I know anyone that knows someone who might be able to swing a deal with a waitress at The Waffle House for some hash browns and a back rub. And she also wants a giant football helmet filled with ham, topped with REO Speedwagon cassette tapes.

I can't believe I actually love hanging out with these people...

-Jim McBean