There are so many mutant Jazz bands right now. The genre is booming and every toe head who can get ahold of a instrument is trying to get a gig. Your band is getting better from all the constant rehearsing that you do. But still no gigs are open. You get a invite to do a couple nights at the Salty Aire, a new club carved out of a single slab of sea salt in Washington A C. It sounds promising, maybe you can become the leader of the new house band if you play your tarot cards right. You have to sell everything you own to get a worn out old bus to transport the band in. Now you are hitting the road and hoping for the best.