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February 20th, 2007 @ 3rd & Lindsley—Glen Phillips Approximately fifteen years ago a buddy and I jumped in the car and drove one-hour from Pensacola, Florida to Mobile, Alabama. The purpose was to see our favorite band Toad the Wet Sprocket perform in a small bar that catered to alternative college bands. The room was sparsely filled, and Toad closed the set with perhaps the best cover of Stairway to Heaven I have ever heard—even if they were being ironic. After the show, I approached Glen, told him they sounded great, and gave him a cassette copy of my band's recent demo. Fast-forward fifteen years through Toad's top-40 radio success, the breakup, and a couple of Glen's solo records. I'm sitting at the bar in Nashville's 3rd & Lindsley, Glen can be seen walking around. He approaches the bar to my immediate right and orders a drink. The bartender either did not know that Glen was the headlining act or she didn't care, because the woman stated with full authority, "That'll be $4.50." Glen humbly started pulling out dollar bills. I looked over at Glen and said, "Let me buy this drink for you, please—it's on me." Glen felt bad, he said, "I should tell her that I'm in the band." But he seemed so over that expression—it was clear that he despised the idea of reminding the bartender that he was with the band. I assured him that it was my pleasure to by him a drink. Glen kindly shook my hand and said, "Thank you. Is there a song you wanna hear?"
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