Moments before, I walked by a runaway Port-A-Potty that blew down Franklin Street at 25 mph against traffic. Aglow with thankfulness that I had not been killed by the plastic poop receptacle, or worse, been inside during the journey, I was happy to be immersed in music.

Inside, fiddles, guitars, harmonicas, mandolins and a bass fiddle resonated beneath the fingers of a group of musicians who have played together for years.

Among them sat Sean Tracey, who said this particular jam started about five years ago and occurs weekly. Although the rest of the musicians gave him credit for organizing the first session, Tracey said it just sort of happened on its own after that.

The musicians consisted of fishermen, teachers, attorneys, politicians, crafts people, tour guides, carpenters, restaurant operators and more. When a song came to an end, fiddles were rested on knees and stories flew. One player laughed that sometimes they might only play three songs in an hour.

Although old-time music tends to be mostly instrumental, communication between the players didn't seem to stop when a song started. On a few tunes, one of the players would start playing the melody without naming the song. Once the other players recognized the melody, they would start in. Like a car starting in cold weather, the song might begin a little rough. Within minutes however, the song would gain momentum and, once feet began stomping, it was in overdrive.

And when someone hollered "last time," and the tune came to an end, it was story time again.

When each song ended there was a moment of silence - just a second or two that can be observed at the end of any jam song. The musicians would adjust their instruments and sort of look down at the floor. If this were a performance, this is when the crowd would begin to applaud. But with no one to clap, perhaps this is just a moment for the musicians to bask in the echoes of the song or maybe even thank or respect the song in a weird way. I'm not really sure. As a musician, I've always been intrigued by these moments of quiet.

One player commented that this jam was the highlight of his week, and another spoke of how he looked forward to the jam. The group of players brought to mind images of chess players in the park, or group saunas, and exemplified our need as humans to be in each other's company.

In an old-time jam, each musician plays the melody, except for the bass fiddle and guitar players who play rhythm. In bluegrass, for example, the banjo, fiddle or mandolin take individual melody breaks. In old-time, the entire song is a collective melody break. In that sense, old-time music seems like the socialism of acoustic string music.

In the past, this jam has taken place at venues such as the Bergmann Hotel or the Alaskan Hotel & Bar. The jammers welcome newcomers as long as they follow jam etiquette and of course, there are only so many chairs in the new spot.

If one doesn't understand jam rules, consider picking quietly on the fringes of the circle until they can be learned. Alternatively, read Sean Tracey's Hooligan article, "Who aren't you gonna call? Jam Busters," in the March 29 Hooligan.

For more information on this jam (there are some others in town), or its new location, ask your local old-time musician. But remember, a good jam spot is kind of like a good fishing hole, and the directions may be vague.