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The place is called Russo's guitar shop and it's located in a deeply suburban area of Omaha, Nebraska at 114th and Dodge. It is located in a little plaza. The shop itself is nestled in between many other shops. There is the sweet smell of the Chinese Buffet on the left and some insurance company to the right. Everyday the store opens and closes from 6 AM to 9PM every day. The store gives awesome guitar lessons from some of the best professionals in the biz. The shop specializes in any kind of guitar you can think of, such as Fenders, Taylors and Ibanez guitars to name a few. They even have banjos, mandolins and bass guitars. There are three rooms. There is the acoustic room, which has about fifty different acoustic guitars, plus the mandolins and banjos. Then there is the general merchandise room which has the electrics (yes!) and the bass guitars. Also, the GM room has songbooks and guitar accesories. (stuff like wah-wah pedals and digital sound converters). Third, there is the amplifier room. This room has some of the biggest, baddest guitar amps ever! Some of them could blow your ear drums out.

One of my fondest memories of the shop come from the first time I ever entered the place. When I entered into the shop I noticed the glistening beauties hanging on their pedestals on the wall. In candy apple red, baby blue, jet black and an array of other colors.

I drooled at the huge selection of guitars. Salivating over the Gibson guitars, the Fenders and many more ear tingling guitars.

A tall, lanky gentleman with a slight over-bite and huge glasses that looked like something out of the stone-age came up and asked me if I needed any help. I said, "No." As I continued to browse I saw the guitars almost as women. I know that sounds weird, but each guitar almost has a feminine air to each one. The curves, the sleekness, the shine.

I decided to take a black Gibson with flaming decals off the wall. I sat down beside a gigantic amplifier and plugged the guitar in. As I turned the amp on I immediatley got stares from around the room, when the amp sent out an explosive sound that made my ears buzz for over an hour.

Playing the beautiful instrument almost made me want to cry, because I wanted to take it home with me and I know I couldn't afford it. I strummed and diddled around on it for over an hour and then finally decide to put it back. I didn't want to part with it. I'd fallen in love. I slowly put it back on the wall. The man came up to me again. He asked me what I thought about the guitar. I told him it was ok. Then he told me about the layaway plan.

My heart fluttered and I became instantly happy again.

It seems hard sometimes for musician's to relate to other non-instrument playing people, because they outsider people don't understand the connection the player has with the instrument. It's almost sexual, especially when playing a killer solo on your Original Fender Stratocaster. It is something that transcends reality.

Russo's is a place to find that connection. If you ever need to find a friend forever go to Russo's

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