We finally catch a bus to Anacortes, a tiny port town where a ferry is located that can take you to the San Juan Islands, a group of islands divided by the US/Canadian border. You can take the international ferry, which takes you through the islands straight to Victoria, B.C., or you can just take the regular ferry to Friday Harbor, Orca Island, whatever. Julian meets us in town, picks us up, and takes us to a random diner because we have an hour or so to kill before the ferry boards. We then head to the ferry, only to find that our ferry schedule is highly outdated and we don’t board for another two hours. What the heck is there to do in Anacortes for two hours? This town is not much more than a main strip with antique shops and diners. Left with little options, we decide to explore.
Julian vaguely remembers a nice view spot that he found here a few years ago, but doesn’t quite remember where it is. Two random turns later, we are on the road that leads straight to it. We drive up a mountain and find an open spot that overlooks the water and mountains and the entire town. It was awesome.
I took about 200 pictures, then we headed down to the marina and watched Julian skip rocks (when he was 8, he completely dominated a rock skipping competition – in the adult division).
We drove around a bit more, and found Washington Park… a park. We headed down to a dock/picnic area and just pittered around for a bit. Next thing I know, I see a seal pop out of the water. I freak out. I have never seen a seal outside of a zoo before. It seems to be following the boats around, and eventually follows one right up to the dock. We freeeeeak out. I think we all took about 100 pictures a piece. It was strangely friendly, and had one gigantic white eye, which was kind of creepy, but tolerable, because it was a freaking seal. Eventually, it got bored with us and went after some boats in the distance.
We eventually made it to the ferry and headed over to the islands. I put $10 into a change machine and got 9 silver dollars back. I then found out that vending machines take dollar coins here. Neat. If vending machines do that in NC and I somehow missed the memo, just don’t mention it.
We arrive, and immediately realize the island is completely desolate. Then we remember that it is off season and nobody wants to come to the San Juan Islands when it is 40 degrees outside. Makes sense. We start walking around town, and notice that people seem to celebrate “Popeye,” a seal that happens to have one-white eye. We find Popeye stuffed animals in store windows and even a Popeye statue near the waterfront. Was the seal that we spent pre-ferry time with the Friday Harbor legend? I mean… are there other seals with one huge white eye that regularly hang around northwestern Washington?? I guess we’ll never know.. but.. it is exciting to think that we hung out with Popeye before we knew he was such a big deal.
After going to the Whale Museum, then eating homemade marionberry icecream from a local coffee shop, then eating a god awful attempt at queso dip at Dos Diablos, we hopped on the ferry back to Anacortes, then Julian drove us to Bellingham, home of Western Washington University and Death Cab for Cutie. He had planned a wine tasting for us (aka bought seven cheap bottles of wine from Trader Joe’s), but I only made it to bottle 3 and passed out on the floor. We had been up for 20 hours already.. I had had enough.
So ends our day of random exploration in northwestern Washington… back to Seattle tomorrow to attempt to do everything we haven’t had time for before we head back to the east side.
I am writing from a train station somewhere north of Seattle. We caught a bus around 7:24 this morning, rode about two hours north, and am now waiting for another bus that will take us to a ferry in Anacortes that will take us to the San Juan Islands, where we will spend the day before Julian, one of our northwest compadres, totes us to Bellingham for the night.
Yesterday was not the best day. We all woke up brutally hungover. Dakota lost her camera, and I have a broken rib. I decide to head to the closest urgent care center while Logan and Dakota go camera shopping. Google tells me that there is one located on Union and 5th… only five blocks away. I arrive at my destination, only to realize that I forgot my wallet. I walk back to hostel.
I get back to my destination. It’s on the third floor of the city center. I finally find the office and head to the front desk. I ask them about their urgent care facility. They tell me that their urgent care is actually located off of 15th Street. Great. I walk back to the hostel.
I ask the chicks working at the hostel if they have any recommendations. They tell me that Harborview Medical Center has an urgent care facility that is independent of their ER, so it will be cheaper, and it’s usually fairly quick. They call me a cab, and I head to Harborview. The nurse at the front desk informs me that they actually got rid of their urgent care facility, and handle all of their patients in the ER. Great. I decide that I might as well stay, since I did already pay for a cab out here. I inform the registration assistant that I was diagnosed with the flu last week. She gives me a face mask and tells me to wear it. Everyone is staring at me. After about an hour of waiting, I overhear people talking about how they have already been waiting here for 4 ½ hours. No thanks. I remove my face mask and take a cab back to the hostel.
I mean, you can’t really do anything about a broken rib. You can get a prescription for pain medication, and they might wrap you up. I’d rather wait and get it taken care of in Raleigh where 1) I’m not missing Seattle time and 2) I won’t have to wait 5 hours.
Logan and Dakota get back around the same time as I do. We go explore a toy store and a shoe store, then head back for free taco night at the hostel. We had plans to go check out a bar on 2nd street called Viceroy (a kid working at the shoe store was DJing there that night), and perhaps hit up conveyor-belt sushi and hike up Queen Anne’s hill. I was hurting pretty bad, so I decided to call it a night at 8:00. It was sort of reasonable, considering we had to be up at 6:30 this morning to check out and catch our first bus on time.
I am intrigued and slightly confused by people in this bus station. They seem mentally retarded, and I am still skeptical. Seriously, all I can think is… downs’ syndrome. That might make me a bad person. Lots of extremely slurred speech with absolutely no substance at all. They all seem to know each other. I think most of them work at this station at one point or another. A couple of guys came over to me and started talking to me about my cat, whose photo is on my desktop. Logan says they are much like people on the harbor.
The San Juans should be a good time. I don’t really know what to expect, but Log says they are full of artsy folk and galleries and coffee shops. Should be fun… we’ll see.
I will describe the previous night up to the point where my memory fails me.
After drinking 44oz. of local brews in the hostel lounge, we decided it was time to head back to 2nd street. A certain whiskey bar, named The Whiskey Bar, had caught our eye while we were searching for dinner. It’s an awesome bar. It’s fairly small, and there’s a four-piece band smushed in the corner on a tiny stage. There are paintings of almost-naked women with cowboy hats and guns.
Dakota buys a shot of Makers for the three of us. I end up sipping it, because it is nearly impossible for me to take a shot of liquor, and this was an enormous shot. Logan puts a whiskey sour in front of me. I continue to sip and take pictures.
A guy comes up to us and tells us to submit our pictures on the bar’s website (which he maintains) and he will buy our drinks next time around. We take note. He suggests we also try another bar down the street. We head that way.
We arrive at bar 2. I don’t remember the name. There are pinball machines everywhere. The tables are old pinball machines. It’s an awesome bar. We order a pitcher of PBR.
Next thing I know, I wake up in my hostel bed, still wearing my clothes from the night before, having no idea how I got there. I feel like one of my right ribs are broken and I am thirsty.
I wake up Logan. He asks me if I had a good time last night. I said I did, but I don’t exactly remember what happened. He proceeds to tell me that we got kicked out of the 2nd bar because I was barfing into the PBR pitcher. When did I get so classy???
I trek downstairs to get a cup of water from the hostel kitchen, and find Dakota in the lounge on the computer. She tells me that her favorite part about last night was when Logan was on the phone, and I was trying to take pictures of him (I guess I found some artistic value in it at the time). While I was doing this, I was singing some sort of jingle, and Dakota wrote down the words to make sure she would never forget them. This was my song.
“Slam cam… that was blurry but I don’t give a fuck… that was the wrong setting but I don’t care… yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah”
The yeah-song continued on for quite some time. I guess this was pre-pitcher rolfing.
I am alive though, and am probably going to head to urgent care today because my right lung-rib area is putting me through some serious pain. Other than that, we head to the Columbia building today, as well as the Seattle Art Museum… then up to Queen Anne’s Hill tonight for the best view of the city imaginable. And perhaps heading back to the bar we got kicked out of to see if we can find Dakota’s camera there. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Last night and tonight have been relatively uneventful, but fantastic nonetheless. Logan finally came into town yesterday. Noren and Lauren Lenney, two Washington friends who I spent time with last year, drove Log to the hostel, picked us up, took us out for pizza (me and Dakota just watched, because we ate free noodles at the hostel), then brought us back and left.
It’s sad that pizza time was the only time I will have with them this year, since they are some of my favorite people, but they do have school this week, and they still had to drive all the way back across the state to the desolate shithole of a college town they call Spokane. It was fun while it lasted. We talked about going out, but ended up in bed by midnight (3:00 your time).
Today we did as much exploring as possible within walking distance. This visit is a bit complicated, because Logan and I have explored most of this part of the city before, but Dakota is new to the area. We took D back through the main spots, including the waterfront, the aquarium, the EMP, and the space needle… but we only paid to see the aquarium, since the best thing about the EMP (Experience Music Project) building is the exterior of the building itself, which is free, and going up to the top of the space needle is not worth twenty bucks when you can pay only four bucks to go to the top of the Columbia Tower. I’m broke, so I prefer this method of tourism.
We explored the SAM (Seattle Museum of Art) sculpture park, since the SAM itself is closed on Mondays. It’s right on the bay, and the view is awesome. It’s also right beside Pier 70, the building where the participants in Real World Seattle dwelled.
Speaking of celebrities, Logan introduced me to the concept of “microcelebrity” today. A subtitle of celebrity in which one is well-known by anywhere from a few-dozen to several thousands of people. These types are becoming prominent due to the internet – blogging, Myspace and Facebook profiles… many people are microcelebrities without even knowing it. If everyone on my mailing list actually read these, I think I could qualify.
We headed back to our favorite grocery/deli, where I made another friend who was friends with the friend I made yesterday. This grocery sells a ton of 22oz. local brews, so we each bought two and headed on our way. After spending dinner money on beer, we wanted to find something cheap. Everything in the market is closed. We walk to 2nd street. Everything is closed. We walk to 3rd street. We walk and walk and walk and finally find our saving grace among a plethora of homeless crackheads and shady pubs: Mom’s Teryaki. Glorious. We stuff our faces and head back to the hostel, where we are currently enjoying our local bottled brews.
By the way, me and Dakota are sick. Somebody is always sick when I am in Seattle. Last year, Logan was dying of some sort of deathly fever, but he was a trooper and didn’t let it get in the way of our adventure. I was diagnosed with the flu on Thursday, and Dakota has just been really sick, but we are both now in that awkward hacking stage that is somewhere between death-sickness and recovery. We are the people that everyone in the lounge stares awkwardly at us because we are constantly hacking our lungs out.
I don’t know if any of you guys have been flu tested, but I wish the process on no one. Let me fill you in. I was sitting in urgent care on Thursday, waiting to figure out what was wrong with me. In walks nurse with an 8-inch Q-tip. The physician looks at me with sympathy. The nurse proceeds to insert half of this Q-tip into my face through my right nostril. I am not exaggerating. I have no idea how so much of this Q-tip entered my head, but I am fairly certain that it was poking somewhere between the back of my eyeballs and my brain. She repeats the process in my left nostril. I am also fairly certain that this q-tip was also doused in either battery acid or fiberglass, because it felt like she was trying to sample tissue my frontal lobes. It was the most painful five seconds of my life. I almost never cry when I am in pain, but by reflex, I immediately began snotting and sobbing all over myself. I am getting a flu shot from now on.
I am about 20 oz. behind my travel mates because I have been writing, so I need to get back to business before we go explore the bars of Seattle. Hope all is well on the east side… I will fill you in on whatever shenanigans we get into tonight.
Greetings from Seattle! I write to you from the lounge of The Green Tortoise, a remarkably well-kept yet inexpensive hostel in the center of downtown Seattle. It’s located directly across from Pike Place Market.. you know, the place where the guys throw the fish. Common knowledge.
As most of you know, I write when I travel, and I mail my logs to a very select hundred or so people in hopes that maybe five of you will find them somewhat interesting or entertaining.
Why did I choose to spend yet another spring break in Seattle? I don’t have a really well-thought reason except that I fell in love with the city last year, and I can’t keep myself from finding ways back whenever possible. I snuck through Seattle for a day in June as well while I was touring, but a 24-hour exposure is just a tease to me. I need a good few days in this city to even begin exploring it, so that’s what I’ve decided to treat myself to. I also brought friends along – Logan Sayles, a great friend who I met at NCSU design camp when we were sixteen, and Dakota Keck, an awesome chick who I really barely knew until our accidental temporary vacation in the Atlanta airport quickly fostered a friendship between us. I’ll get to that later.
Well I guess I can just get to it now. Delta Airlines. They make you feel so good when you successfully purchase a $172 round-trip ticket to Seattle. Me and Dakota were headed to the airport yesterday (Logan flew up early to visit his hometown on the harbor), ready to catch our 2:25 flight to Cincinnati, then straight to the west coast, arriving around 6 p.m. Simple enough. I will speed through this to avoid drawing out yet another customer complaint regarding air travel, but I just need you guys to see the irony of our lives.
Delta airlines calls us while we are on the way to the airport. Our flight has been rescheduled. No, now it is cancelled. We are now scheduled to fly out at 5 p.m to Atlanta, wait 3 hours, then fly out at 9:46, arriving in Seattle around 12:30 a.m. Sad. We lost our first night in Seattle. And it’s 1:00 and we are already checked into RDU, and our ride is long gone. And wireless isn’t free.
I order iced coffee from Starbucks. They give me iced tea. We read Cosmo for two hours.
We arrive in Atlanta. Dakota’s parents come pick us up (they live right outside Birmingham, which is about an hour drive from the airport) and take us out for some grub. We return with plenty of time to catch our flight.
We head to A19. Free wireless. We become enthralled. We casually notice that there are only four of us waiting for a nonstop to Seattle. We continue Facebooking. Finally, we look up at a side-screen that is occasionally displaying the fact that our flight was actually changed to gate A2. We quickly pack up our things, glad that we noticed in enough time so that we didn’t have to run. We arrive at the gate 10 minutes early. We feel lucky. Then we notice that nobody is there, except another pissed off and confused guy. We look out of the airport window, and see our plane. We wave frantically at the pilot. They wave back and signal for us to hold on. We feel relieved. We wait. Nobody is coming out to get us. Finally, the attendant comes back inside. We ask her what is going on and she said they closed the gates ten minutes prior. We ask if we can get on the plane, since it is right there, still connected, but she says it is full and there is nothing we can do.
So we are stuck in Atlanta. Delta shuttles us to a lovely Comfort Inn Hotel with a Mexican restaurant/night club attached. As much as the thought of grinding to Latino hip-hop tunes was appealing to Dakota and I, we decided to just stock up on potato chips from the vending machines and call it a night. The situation wasn’t THAT bad. Yes, we were spending our first night of spring break watching Rock of Love 2 in a cheap Atlanta hotel, but we had a flight booked early the next morning, and we’d be in Seattle by lunchtime. It was a nice little mexi-trash honeymoon for us.
Dakota modeling one of our free XXL skyteam t-shirts, compliments of Delta Airlines.
The next morning.. we wake up at 8. The flight leaves at 8:30. We are fucked. We missed our second flight. We make it to the airport around 9 and manage to get standby tickets (we only make it onto the flight if people don’t show up) for an 11:00 flight. If we don’t make it onto this flight, we have to wait for another one at 9:50 that night. We wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and finally, as the plane was getting ready to take off, they call our names. We haul ourselves onto that plane and finally arrive in Seattle at 1:22 this afternoon.
This has been a good, somewhat uneventful day in Seattle. Me and D checked into the hostel, and immediately set out to find sustenance in the fish market. We immediately made friends with a guy at a fruit stand, who talked us into buying six pieces of fruit and then offered to take us out to dinner. We told him we were eating pasta at the hostel and that we’d see him soon. We then made friends with Mario the fish guy, who let us sample the best smoked salmon we’ve EVER had. We bought half a pound. We then went to the bakery and bought some baguettes, passed by the first Starbucks ever, then explored a small grocery for the perfect beer. We ended up buying juice instead. We sat at one of the high-top tables at the grocery store that overlooked the bay, making salmon sandwiches and eating our fruit (at this time Dakota informed me that she was actually allergic to fruit, despite the fact that she bought three pieces), and talking to the store clerk about beer and North Carolina. He gave us his number and told us to contact him if we wanted to go experience good Seattle breweries. We might just do it.
Logan isn’t here yet, but he should be eventually. Now we are going to eat a free pasta dinner, compliments of the Green Tortoise. Tonight should be a new adventure, weather permitting (so far, it is). I’ll keep you posted.
Columbia on my birthday. We have been fearing this for weeks. To give you an idea of what happens to us in Columbia, I will include an excerpt from my last Columbia tour log:
——————
[5/20/2007]
All of the friends we made at our first Columbia show were back to see us… All of the boys from Due East, including Zack and Tracy who housed us last time.. big ol’ Jimmy came out and brought his wife, and Tug, the one who wrote some amazing reviews for us in the Columbia Free Times, came back to play. The bar was packed, and when the boys started playing, the crowd was immediately obsessed. People were extremely social here, and I began making friends pretty quickly. BJ made the mistake of telling the crowd that the lady sitting beside the glowing suitcase of merchandise sucking down vodka grapefruits (that lady being me) could out drink anybody at the bar. This is of course a total lie. My alcohol tolerance has increased marginally since we left, but it is still sitting at the level of around a high school sophomore. Slight upgrade, but definitely not enough to prepare me for what I was in store for that night. I had six different people buying me drinks from that point onward. I took my first shots of chartreuse and whiskey ever. I also had my first buttery nipple, bought for me by Jimmy’s wife. I actually had more girls buying me shots than guys. Sweet. Believe it or not, I remained composed that night. I always do though. Most people don’t really know when I drink or not, because I act a lot like I do when I’m sober. I just talk A LOT more. ..and dance a bit more.
To give you an idea of how much alcohol was in our bodies:
•$75 bar tab? No. We rang up a $175 bar tab. This does not include drinks that were bought for us (people were buying shots for the band/myself the entire night).
•I spent more time talking to people and dancing than I did at my merch perch.
•I gave away EP’s when people didn’t have money to buy them. (sorry BJ!)
•Nobody remembers packing up anything. The next day everything was mixed up in different bags, I had no idea how much merch I sold, and most of us thought we had lost at least half our belongings).
•Zack woke up with two new tattoos.
Now, I don’t normally write about excess alcohol consumption like it’s something to be proud of. It’s not. There really is just no other way to tell that story without seeming like there is emphasis on it. In reality, there is no emphasis.. it was just that bad. And by bad I mean the best night we have had on tour thus far. We freaking love you Columbia.
———————
We spent the first part of the day in our regular coffee shop writing tour logs and uploading photos, then headed to the movies to play on photo machines and see Hot Rod. It was stupid funny. The boys were giddy by the time we left.
We headed to the Whig. This time around, all of our old friends were there… Matt, Jimmy and his fabulous wife, Shawn, James and the Unawares boys, Zach & Tracey, Heyward, and the rest of the Columbia gang, except for Tug, who had to take a trip to Chicago that weekend. I’ll forgive you eventually Tug.
I can’t explain to you how much I love The Whig. It is a basement bar underneath the local television station on mainstreet. It also happens to have the best gouda mac & cheese on the planet.. I’m certain of it.
It was hot today. 107 degrees. By 9:00 load-in, it was down to 98… not fun. Once we were all set up, we just pittered around and had drinks with Columbia natives until Due East finally arrived at 10:30 or so. The boys eventually started their set around 12:30, and rocked til close. I spent most of this time being fed flaming shots of chartreuse by Jimmy (whose birthday was also today) and being followed around by creepy older men who were apparently not discouraged by the fact that I had a boyfriend or were 20-some years their junior. Finally, Tracey rescued me from the elderly assault and took the entire band down the street to the Art Bar. By this time, I was drunk, annoyed and grossed out by the preceding events, and took a seat alone in a booth and laid my head down for what I thought was a few seconds.
60 minutes and several incriminating photographs later, the boys scoop me up and make me take more pictures with Jimmy and company. We all then head back to Zach and Tracey’s where I pass out on an honorary birthday couch (vs. sleeping on a dog-hairy hardwood floor.. a birthday present from the band). Certainly an interesting birthday, but the awesome people, be them complete strangers or familiar faces, definitely made it for me. Thanks to everyone for whatever good deeds they did, whether it be a drink, a rescue from sexual predators, or a couch.
Needless to say, I think I’m going to take it easy for a while. Easier said than done, but that’s what I’m sayin. Savannah tomorrow.
I wake up in a mysterious female’s bed (mysterious female being gone,
obviously) with a giiiiiaaaant headache. I wander out into the living
room to find a bunch of greasy homeless looking people who happen to
be my tour mates. After a good bathe and a trip to Bojangles, we
headed on our way to Charlotte.
This is our second stop at The Evening Muse, located in the NoDa arts
district in South Charlotte. We took note last time around that this
spot is more of a listening room than a rock-out venue, so we decided
to make it an easy night and play it soft. We arrived at around 7pm,
just in time for the early show (The Muse does an early show and a
late show every night). We walked in to find a smaller guy, with
puffy curly brown hair, a brasil tank-top and jeans on, who looked
much like somebody I’d see on a high school soccer team. I figured he
was a local who was taking the stage in front of a few friends for
open mic night.
Wrong. This minute this kid (actually, he was at least 10 years my
senior and married) opened his mouth (I was in the bathroom at the
time), I was blown away. I thought he had a voice much like Jason
Isbell at first, much once he got started, I could see how the boys
kept comparing him to Dylan/Simon. I took a few videos and just
soaked in the rest. I’m not kidding guys, this is one of the best
one-man acoustic acts I have EVER SEEN. His name is Jeremy Fisher, by
the way. He’s from Vancouver, which makes him even more awesome in my
book.
You can go look at his newest music video here:
or just go see him at:
http://www.jeremyfishermusic.com
hooh. Okay enough about Jeremy (I could go on for hours more).
We went out for fish tacos after Jeremy’s set ended, and made it back
in time to unload our junk in the sweltering heat (the temps had risen
to 106 freaking degrees that day). That’s the one downside about this
place – there is no back door to load our equipment through, and even
if we loaded in through the front door, we’d have nowhere to store our
equipment inside until show time. It’s kind of hard to explain, but
we have a TON of equipment (instruments, boxes and cases for the
instruments, instrument stands, drummer and keyboard stools, amps,
PA’s, and my plethora of merch crap) and we are used to hauling it all
into a venue around 7pm before anyone arrives, then setting up the
instruments and letting them sit until it’s time to play them. In
this case, we are literally setting up drums and instruments on the
sidewalk outside the venue in 90-some degree heat at 10:00 at night.
It is by no means glorious.
Finally, we got the set started, and it sounded great. None of us had
really been drinking, since we weren’t supplied an endless supply of
free beer and we are poor. Therefore, Zack wasn’t wasted, and the
rest of the boys weren’t wasted, so everyone was on point. The show
was very intimate (as it always is in that venue), and BJ spent about
an hour rambling incessantly to the audience, but it was well
received. I made a CD exchange with Jeremy Fisher towards the end of
AA’s set (it is not uncommon for bands sharing the same bill to switch
CD’s during shows, a sort of exchange of material and contact
information), which always excites me when the band exchanging with us
is actually good.
Just as the set ended, 12:00 hit and MY BIRTHDAY STARTED! We packed
up our junk, and a group of NC State alum ladies who attended the show
were ready to take us out in downtown Charlotte. We didn’t actually
make it to the bar until 1:00 a.m., so everyone fed me birthday shots
for the last hour while I chatted with Charlotte natives. Eventually,
we headed back to friend Erin’s penthouse condo right down the block,
and the boys settled down to sleep while Zack and Jeremy and I pounded
on the piano for a couple of hours before we too passed out. Good
completely random adventure with strangers for the first half of my
birthday. Off to Columbia tomorrow.
We are looking forward to our second leg of the summer tour. We’ve
already played more than 25 states, driven through 39… so this is more
of a replay for us, with bigger crowds, larger $$ guarantees, and a
couple of new cities in the mix. All of us are absolutely giddy about
being back on the road after a month and a half of living back in the
real world.
As usual, we get off to a late start. My fault this time. With my
luck, I had a court date today, and my attorney didn’t show up. We
were supposed to depart for Wilmington at 3:00. My court date was at
2:00, and I figured I’d be done early enough to meet the boys on time.
Come 3:30, I was literally the last person sitting in the court room,
and the court finally granted me a continuance, even though that’s
what I would have gotten anyway, considering the judge had called in
sick that day. Whatever. We left an hour late and headed eastward
toward the coast.
As last time, there are six of us crammed in BJ’s 5-seated trailblazer
(Jeremy has replaced Amos this time around), so I got to sleep in the
seatless back compartment. It was actually quite comfortable. Before
I knew it, we were pulling up to Bella Festa, where we played the
first show of our first leg this summer. They definitely remembered
us. We brought in our junk, and set out to find some grub in downtown
Wilmington.
Wednesday was forecasted as the hottest day yet in this ridiculous
weather spell. As you can imagine, we were all drenched in sweat
after load-in, and all we wanted to do was find a nice tasty spot with
a good functional AC unit. Well, little did we know.. in bigger
buildings (such as music venues and restaurants) where there is much
more volume to cool, if it gets hot enough, AC units will just shut
off. Not break.. just stop working temporarily. I also learned today
that most properly functioning AC units are only capable of cooling a
space approximately 20 degrees… so, if it is 90 degrees outside, you
can enjoy a 70 degree indoor space. Fine. But if it’s 105 degrees…
you are taking refuge in a minimum of 85 degrees, IF the AC hasn’t
shut down yet. Needless to say, cool spots were not easy to find. In
fact, we never found one. We ate a tasty meal at Tony’s Pub, a huge
restaurant that looked like a renovated boat warehouse (judging by the
structure.. it was not decorated in corny nautical memorabilia or
anything), with a broken AC unit. Some would call it miserable. We
made the best of it though.
We headed back to Bella Festa, settled down, and began sampling IPA’s
as the opening band began their set. We knew that The Pomegranates,
who came down all the way from Cincinnati, compared themselves to The
Arcade Fire, The Kinks, Interpol, etc.. but that’s quite a bit to
live up to. We were ready to find out if they could hold their own.
Well.. they absolutely rocked it. Really.. these kids were such
talented musicians. They formed last fall, put an album out this
spring, and got signed a week later. Looks like they’re doing
something right. Zack, who is probably the biggest Arcade
Fire/Interpol-ish advocate of the group, was giddy over it. After the
set, me and Beej bought tee-shirts and coloring books (yes, they sell
their own hand-made coloring books and they are awesome), and after a
bit of chit chat, found out that they are friends of J-Roddy Walston &
the Business, good friends of ours and basically the hardest rockers
you will ever meet.
So –
Go listen to the Pomegranates now:
http://www.myspace.com/pomegranatesart
Aaaand just for kicks, go take a gander at J-Roddy and The Business:
http://www.myspace.com/jroddy
So.. as the second band takes the stage, the boys continue to nurse
IPA’s while I just wander around recording videos. Eventually, Zack
makes his way over to me, plops down on the couch beside me, and
explains to me that “heeeeeeeeeschwasted.” (“he’s wasted,” for those
of you who can’t yet translate drunkspeak.. I’ve been forced to learn)
I recommend that he cut back on the drinks a little bit before he goes
on stage, because he wants to play a good show. He then tells me has
to go do shots and runs off.
Come stage time, Zack was sloppy. The set consisted mostly of
unintentional dissonance, Zack demanding to play certain songs or
simply refusing to play others, and quitting the band a few times in
between songs. Honestly, from an audience standpoint, it really
wasn’t a bad show at all. The songs were still solid. The boys were
NOT happy though. To add to the irony, this is the one show where the
sound guy makes a legit recording of each show, so we had this set
preserved in all its glory to enjoy forevermore.
Well, what do touring musicians do to rid themselves of their sorrows?
Drink more.
We head back to the home of BJ’s good friend Josh.. the same house we
stayed in last time we played Wilmington. Since the last show, BJ’s
other good friend, Pud, had moved in, which just made the situation
even more unhealthy. If you don’t remember what happened last time
we stayed at Josh’s house, I will include an excerpt from my last
Wilmington tour log:
[[[from 5/15/07:
1) Amos and Bill both peed in the empty lot beside the house while we
were unloading the van. Apparently that lot was in fact the yard of a
police chief. We later had a visit from this police chief, and Josh's
roommate, which happened to be a belligerent female idiot. She ended
up fussing out the policeman, in a vocal tirade which included
snippets such as "we are all over 21, you can't do shit!" and "I
can't help it if my daddy has money!" Great move. Fortunately, the
officer just made them remove the van from the lot and went on his
way.
2) Josh ended up sleeping with his belligerent female Delawarean
roommate that night, for the first time ever. I predict that he is
exiled within 6 months.
3) The belligerent female continued her vocal tirade within the house,
looking for her "f*cking phoooone" and calling random friends,
demanding for them to come over and sleep with BJ (whom none of them
had ever met), telling them "I don't give a f*ck about your emotions!"
No success. Somehow I never heard a thing.
4) Zach awoke for a moment to find the belligerent female kissing him
in bed. Awkward. She left soon after to assault Josh.]]]
Funny thing – Josh is moving out soon.. looks like my prediction was correct.
Okay, so none of that happened again, this time… at least to that
degree. Zack passed out in the car on the way to the house, and we
decided that it would be a good thing to let him continue napping in
an enclosed space in 95 degree nighttime heat. 4 hours later, sloppy
Zack trudges into the house, compleeeetely soaked in his own sweat.
It was beautiful. Other than that, I earned the respect of BJ’s
friends after I dominated them in beer pong, and the boys bonded with
some new ladyfriends. We all eventually settled down and went to bed
around 6:30 a.m.
I’d say it was another successful show in Wilmington, despite a ruined
recording opportunity and Zack quitting the band again (and again, and
again). Honestly though, if our nights were devoid of complications,
I would have nothing to write about. Let the debauchery continue.
We wake up in time to go explore the city a bit. We basically tried
to see and experience all of the cliché Chicago things we could..
Wrigley Stadium, beer, deep-dish pizza, the “train” (NOT the subway
apparently). On the way back towards the venue, we accidentally took
the wrong “train” and ended up walking 21 blocks to get back to where
we needed to be. Needless to say, we were a little late.
So we arrived and met Sylvie, the owner of Sylvie’s. Sylvie moved to
Chicago from Serbia 35 years ago, and has been living on top of her
bar ever since. This means she basically learned and mastered the
English language in a bar setting. Needless to say, every other word
that came our of her mouth was absolute profanity. It was awesome to
see 70-something-year foreign woman cuss like a sailor and threaten to
“f*cking keeell” BJ every few minutes.
The show ended up having its complications. The opening bands played
a LOT longer than they were supposed to, yet the show had to be over
at 1:00. The sound guy actually told BJ that he was better off just
leaving because he would probably only get to play for 10 minutes.
Needless to say, we were a little frustrated. Nonetheless, we stuck
around, and visited with Chicago folks, including Jackie O, BJ’s good
college friend who had moved from Raleigh to the city a couple of
years back.
Next thing you know, and old friend arrives – fart party. This time,
she is very alert, jolly, talkative, and drunk out of her mind. The
next couple of hours were spent just trying to get away from the girl,
because she could not shut her mouth long enough for me to even form
an independent thought. Luckily, the opening bands finally stopped,
and American Aquarium set up for their final set.
20 minutes later, they were done. The people that stuck around were
absolutely floored, and a little pissed that they couldn’t play
longer. Sylvie rounded us up, apologized for not giving us the entire
show to ourselves, and fed us shots to make us happy. After a while,
we finished up our conversations with Sylvie, Jackie O, and fart
party, who was still pissed off about not being included in the free
shots, packed up our things, and went on our way towards home.
We were in Raleigh by lunchtime the next morning. Most of us were
glad to be home, but a couple of us just wanted to be back on the
road.
Tour was by no means glamorous, or safe, or healthy.. but the stories
are so worth it.
We arrived in Chicago early in the afternoon. Amos and Zack were
still mostly nonfunctional, but BJ was absolutely giddy by this point.
Chicago is one of his favorite cities, and we landed this gig
last-minute (on the phone at Burger King somewhere in Idaho if I
recall correctly), so he was excited to finally be there.
We had a free night with no show, so before we hit the city, we took a
pit stop in Evanston, Illinois, a smaller waterfront spot right
outside of Chicago. Zack had a friend (whose name I cannot remember
but from hereon out will refer to as “fart party”) who attended
Northwestern University (where Zach Braff also attended) who had
offered to take us in for the night and show us around her town. We
arrived and met fart party at her home. It was a BEAUTIFUL house,
owned by a family from who she rented the top floor. Fart party isn’t
exactly what you’d call an interesting person. In fact, she was
rather grumpy and did not seem excited to have visitors at all.
Nonetheless, she walked us around Evanston, which is a beautiful city,
much bigger than Raleigh, yet much more pedestrian-friendly and
greener and on the water. We all went and ate Vietnamese food, which
me and Bill were particularly happy about, then headed back to her
house.
Then things got complicated. Apparently fart party can only now house
three people. Too bad we have six. After a bit of discussion, we
decided that instead of splitting up, we’d all just head to Chicago
and find a hotel to crash in.
We headed to the city. We aimlessly explored Chicago until 7 or 8
when we decided to finally go look for a hotel.
So the search began. The trailblazer has GPS system, so we can search
up hotels in the area. We first tried hotels within the city. Once
we’d actually find them, there was absolutely no parking that
accommodated an SUV with a U-Haul (understandably). Eventually, we
gave up and searched up smaller suburbs just outside of Chicago.
Closet one – Cicero (I think that’s right), 8 miles. We arrive in
Cicero, hoping to find a fairly cheap hotel upon arrival. Everything
is in Spanish. There are nothing but gun and liquor shops. The only
two hotels in the burb were boarded up and abandoned. Awesome.
An hour later, we are sitting in the parking lot of the 4th Best
Western parking lot we had visited that evening. Apparently all of
the high schools around Chicago were graduating this weekend, so every
hotel within 20 miles of Chicago is completely booked. Super.
Finally, around 11pm, we find a hotel that will accommodate us. Me
and BJ go and get a late KFC dinner (yes, we were all on a steady
fast-food diet on tour, and somehow we had all lost 15 pounds by this
point), and we all call it a night.
I can’t say we were TOO excited about playing in Kansas. Nothing
against the state, but we just weren’t expecting much of a show
compared to the bigger cities/more populated states we had played in.
On the plus side, we had heard that our venue, Kirby’s, was the
premier venue in Wichita. We arrive to a teeeeeny little venue
sitting adjacent to a Laundromat. Okay, so it’s small, but perhaps it
will still live up to the hype. A few regulars have already arrived
to get the night started early. We load in, and I immediately claim a
perch at the bar. Not soon after, the crowd starts to arrive and the
opener takes the stage – a sheepish, middle-aged, obese man in an old
t-shirt, jorts, and high socks. He sang a variety of jingles about
his cat, among other completely uninteresting topics. Glad to see
what local talent Wichita has to offer. All the while, I am sitting
at the bar, and I notice a man at my merch suitcase asking BJ if the
entire band will autograph a CD for him. I suppose that’s not TOO out
of the ordinary, they’ve had to do that a few times before this……
anyway, this man eventually comes and takes a seat next to me at the
bar. He’s with a friend, and sticks to his own conversation for a
while, but I can see him trying to catch my attention out of the
corner of my eye. Finally, he speaks.
“Now honey you ain’t from around here, are ya?”
I will go ahead and warn you that there is absolutely NO WAY I can
replicate this guy’s voice on paper. Think Kentucky gentleman + gay
jaws on Family Guy. Very southern and very, very gay. A refreshing
combination of a clean flamboyant drawl and small fits of completely
slurred inaudible word-like sounds, which increased in frequency as
the night progressed and the vodka-Dr. Peppers were continually thrown
back.
I explained that I was in fact from North Carolina, touring with the
band that was about to take stage. He perked up quickly. We
continued to talk as AA began their set. I found him quite amusing,
extremely flamboyant, borderline annoying, … intense, but not exactly
overbearing at the time. I will remind you that part of my duties as
merchandise dispersal technician is to try as hard as possible to land
us a place to stay for the night. I had done extremely well since
meeting back up with the boys in Portland, landing us a night with the
owner of The Bitter End, then Barton Carroll of Crooked Fingers in
Seattle, Mike of the High Beams in Salt Lake City.. and so on. You
could say I had a good track record. The band’s expectations for
tonight were no different. Anyway. This southern belle, who
identifies himself as Christopher Hyde, begins to tell me about this
amazing restaurant in the city, and as he is explicitly describing the
sausage biscuits, I make my move.
“Well, that sounds great and all, but unless we find a place to stay
tonight, we will be driving straight to Chicago tonight after the
show, and will miss our opportunity to try these biscuits you speak
of.”
Keep in mind, I have no problem throwing me and the boys at this man
who has approached me at the bar, because 1) the band is extremely
protective of me and will rescue me from any bar goers that seem
particularly threatening to me, and 2) this guy is obviously gay and
wants nothing to do with me.
Christopher Hyde takes the bait.
“Oh really now? Well I have a fiiive-bedroom house right up the
street heah, and ya’ll are more than welcome to stay theyah for the
naght. I’ve got showahs, a laaawndry room… I’d LOVE to give ya’ll a
place to stay…”
Those are the magic words. I alert the band. BJ asks me if the guy
seems legit. I explain that he is a little strange but he seems to
mean well. After I mention the five-bedroom house, the rest of the
band is in.
By the end of the set, Christopher Hyde is absolutely giddy about this
surprise sleepover. I quote:
“oh my gawd. It’s like Elton John is stayin at my house!”
As we are loading the gear, he is right in the middle of it, talking
to all of us about whatever is on his mind at the time. We are
getting a little annoyed, but he is our place to stay, so we tolerate
it. Zack, on the other hand, gets a little freaked out after Hyde
says to him,
“now I ran home and put lots of soap in the showah so yaw can get your
little naked butts in theyah…”
I will also mention that Zack can be somewhat homophobic, especially
when he is approached with mention of his “little butt.”
More quotes from Hyde before we leave the venue.
“I’m not crazy…”
“Now I just have a good feelin’ about you folks. I just…. trust yaw…”
“I love you.”
“Now my roommate with the guns.. he ain’t here right now. But my otha
roommate, he is home. You prolly won’t see him though. He plays
Dungeons and Dragons about 14 hours a day and don’t really leave the
room much. Ian’s the guns one, (he)’s the gaming one, and I’m the
drankin’ one.”
“Now I have to tell you about these here police in Wichita. They are
out to getcha. But here’s the thing about the police.. they fuck
dogs. Yes, daaawgs. I’m serious! Now I ain’t seen it in person,
but I done hear they did, and I know it’s true.”
At this point, we regroup, because Zack wants nothing to do with this
anymore. We decide collectively that despite the lack of normality in
this situation, it could not possibly be worse than driving straight
to Chicago at 3am. Besides, if it is like any of the other sleepover
scenarios on tour, we all will go straight to bed, including him. He
has to be at work at the country club at 6 in the morning anyway.
We drive to his house, which is literally a few houses down the street
from the venue. We bring our goods in, and wait for his direction. He
gives us none. If I remember correctly, he offered five bedrooms to
us.
I ask, “where do you want us to sleep?”
He replies, “wherevah you feel comfortable.”
So, we, not exactly knowing how to respond to that, begin to put our
belongings down on the living room floor, somewhat annoyed that these
were not the sleeping arrangements he had described. A few of the
boys go outside on the porch for a smoke/talk break, and down comes
“the gaming one” to join the festivities. The gaming one is rocking
high-wasted shiny black gym shorts, high white socks, a waist-long
greasy black ponytail, pasty white skin and almost no body fat. So
appropriate. He steps out and gets acquainted with the boys for a
minute (the boys report the sweatiest handshake they have ever
experienced), and slithers back upstairs for more gaming.
Me and Beej wander to the back of the house to find a spare room with
a long L-shaped couch and a bathroom attached. Hyde follows us in
there and proceeds to describe this as the “stanky room.” He
continues to ramble for about 15 minutes. We all are just ready to go
to sleep. I go to the bathroom, and by the time I get back, Zack and
Amos have stolen the stanky room. I was kind of annoyed, since I had
been looking forward to a night sleeping on some sort of soft object,
but I just set up my palate on the floor with the rest of the guys and
settled in to rest. All the while, Hyde was fixing himself
vodka/Dr.Peppers and begging us to partake in the free alcohol. We
declined.
He stood in the living room, where we were all laying in our sleeping
bags, and rambled about god knows what for a good 30 minutes. At
first, we were polite and responded, but eventually realized that if
we continued to respond, this would continue until sunrise, so we just
pretended to fall asleep mid-conversation. Eventually, he quieted up
and said nothing but – “Yall are just… kids.. just kids…”
BJ piped up. “Yes sir, we are just LITTLE CHILDREN.”
Hyde – “naw, not cheeldren, but ya’ll are just kids… okay goodnaaght.”
He heads upstairs. We are somewhat annoyed that he didn’t retire
immediately, but we were glad he finally left us alone. We begin to
fall asleep.
20 minutes later. We hear footsteps. We are pissed off at this
point. We cannot believe Hyde is coming back downstairs. Needless to
say, we act like we are completely unconscious. Hyde says a couple of
words, and we don’t respond, hoping that he’ll get bored and go back
upstairs. Incorrect. Hyde waltzes over to the fridge, makes another
vodka drink (it is past 3am mind you), then, without a word, stands
over us, just looking. He hovers there for at LEAST 15 minutes. We
are all cracking one eye at a time just to see if he’s left, trying
not to giggle or show any signs of being awake. I suppose he
eventually got bored looking at the same collection of bodies for too
long, so he went to the next best place – the stinky room. All we
hear is the door creak open, a “what are yooou boys doin….” And the
door shuts behind him.
We are CRACKING UP. This all may look like a potentially scary
situation to you guys reading this, but to us, it was a relatively
non-threatening situation at the time. We all just thought this guy
was a little nuts but essentially harmless, armed only with an
overactive mouthpiece. Let me remind you that Amos and Zack are the
two that are most uncomfortable with Hyde, and this situation
entirely. The fact that they stole that room to stay as far from Hyde
as possible, and that the plan completely backfired, was the most
beautiful of irony to us. We settle down and start to fall back
asleep.
At the time, we were completely unaware of what was happening in that
room. We assumed that Hyde was simply blabbing away to them about
whatever thoughts came to his mind at the time.
30 minutes later. Hyde strolls upstairs. We see Amos hauling ass of
the house with his duffel bag. Beautiful sight. We are laughing.
BJ’s phone starts ringing off the hook. We ignore it. Amos comes
back in, grabs BJ’s head and says, “Get up we are getting out of here
this guy is NUTS.” We say sure.. and go back to sleeping. Amos runs
back into the stank room. Hyde comes back down with some sort of
package and reenters the stank room.
10 minutes later. Zack runs out to the car with all of his stuff,
yelling at us to get up because “THIS GUY IS OUT OF HIS MIND AND WE
HAVE TO LEAVE.” We laugh and ignore it (it really was funny at the
time). Then Amos runs out, grabs BJ and says – “SERIOUSLY – IF YOU
DON’T GET UP AND GET IN THE CAR WE ARE GOING TO LEAVE YOU IN KANSAS –
WE ARE LEAVING NOOOW!!!!!!”
Ok, we get it now. We all jump up, throw on our pants and pack up our
things in a hurry, and start out the door. Hyde emerges from the back
room, sheepishly asking.. “what’s wrong? Did I make yaw mad or
somethin’?” He grabs Bill by the arm and asks again. Bill yelps “I
DON’T KNOOOOW!” and runs to the car.
Hyde grabs Chris. Chris says something along the lines of “some bad
shit went down, man, we gotta go!” Hyde follows us outside and grabs
Zack. Zack explains that BJ’s sister is in fact dead (BJ does not
actually have a sister), and we have to drive straight home to North
Carolina. Hyde explains to Zack that we “have an angel on the front
of our car, and it’s going to follow us all the way home, and it’s
gon’ protect us from harm.” Thanks Hyde. Without any more
hesitation, we sped straight out of Kansas.
So. We had no idea what happened in that back room. Around sunrise,
when Amos and Zack could finally speak again, they explained to us
what happened:
Zack and Amos awake to a “what are you boys dooooin?” Hyde enters the
room, sits on the couch, and turns on the television. He sits for a
while, rambling, completely wasted by this point. This rambling
includes:
–”Zack, you got such purty hair. When I was a boy I had looong,
curly hair. You know what? Tonight when you’re sleepin, I’m gon’
come in and cut off a lock of yo hair, put it in a box, and keep it
forevah.”
–”Amos.. (as he pets Amos’s head) I love you. Not in a creepy way,
but I just love you.”
–”Now if you feel uncomfortable sleepin’ here I’ve got a bed upstairs..”
H – “Amos, do you believe in prayer?”
A – “Sure, yeah prayer is a good thing.”
H – “Well, I am gon’ go upstairs and get my anointing oils and you are
gonna be the overseer of this prayer.”
[yes, anointing oils]
[this is when Hyde went back upstairs, and we saw Amos first run out
to the car.]
[Amos returns, then Hyde returns with a package]
H – “Now Zack, this is voodoo oil on my hands (grabs Zack’s hand).
Now anyone who does you harm is gonna DIE.”
[This is around the time when Zack and Amos bolt.]
The stanky-room conversation included much more detail than that, but
I am writing this log more than a month later and cannot remember as
much. This was undoubtedly the most potentially dangerous situation
we had put ourselves in on tour, but the story is SO WORTH IT. Maybe
not to Zack and Amos, who were almost violated in many more ways than
they had expected that night, but… yeah it was worth it.
We woke up 3 hours later than intended. No surprise there. We packed
up our stuff in a hurry and headed east. Another long drive ahead.
We were originally going to take the slightly longer scenic route
through the Rockies, but had to cut it short (down to 7 hours) and
take the not-so-scenic route that looked a lot like Idaho. Lots of
flat land between hills and trailer parks.
We finally reached Denver pretty late. The sun was already down. I
will go ahead and tell you that I expected Denver to be a mountainous
metropolis, a large-scale Asheville of sorts. Denver is flat! The
Rockies are off in the distance, but once again, it is a big city in
the middle of utter desolation. I was really disappointed to be
honest. I’m sure it’s an awesome city, and it is still within driving
distance of the Rocky Mountains, which is certainly not something to
complain about, but it was just different than what I had expected. I
want to go back and explore it a bit more one day to really see what
it’s all about.
Our venue was a neat hipster joint, once frequented by the Grateful
Dead. Apparently they never quite got over it, as the walls are
completely covered in Dead memorabilia… and there was a lot of wall
space to cover. A tad bit overkill, but the place still looked neat.
We accidentally left Chris locked in the back of the Trailblazer, and
after about 20 minutes, realized we had forgotten the boy and went to
rescue him. Chris, who could have easily climbed over the back seat
and let himself out of the car, or called us if he was THAT lazy,
decided to do neither. We found him perched in the back, sipping on
his diet-coke, scowling at us. We let him out, and he was seriously
bitter. Not because he was trapped.. he knew he could get out. He
was simply mad that we hadn’t gone looking for him. Apparently he had
been impressed by Amos’s act of jack-assery in Utah, because tonight
during load in, Chris silently watched us unload his gear from the
trailer. When asked what he was doing, he smugly ranted about how we
were assholes and he was going to watch us load his gear tonight as
payback for neglecting him. This annoyed me a bit. I’m not a fan of
unnecessary conflict and bickerment, but I suppose that it’s
inevitable after being stuck together for more than 3 weeks with a
bunch of diva men (who I love dearly).
We settled in and Amos quickly got busy on the air-hockey machine in
the back, while I made phone calls and tried napping on a couch.
Reid’s brother Graham (whose parents we stayed with in Lake Norman)
and his wife came to catch up and see a bit of the show. They are
extremely nice people and I enjoyed having some extra company.
Another random guest made an appearance – Shelby, who manages Hideaway
BBQ in Raleigh, happened to be in Denver with her husband for a
funeral, glanced in the paper, saw the show, and came out. Shelby is
the cutest little firecracker I have ever seen. I also met two girls
who had never seen the band, but heard we were from Raleigh and wanted
to meet us because they were moving to Chapel Hill in a week. This
country gets smaller every minute.
Other than that, the crowd wasn’t plentiful. AA didn’t even start
their set until around midnight, because the opening band was far too
messed up to realize that they played 2 hours over their allotted set
time. Awesome. We eventually finished up and found a nice hotel to
settle in. Maybe next time I’ll get a better chance to explore the
city, but that first visit will do for now. Surely better than what
we’ll find in Kansas… we’ll see.
We woke up after a short late-night nap in the hotel, and soon set out
to find a bite to eat. We immediately realized that we truly were in
the middle of nowhere. Besides this hotel, a Subway, an Arby’s, and a
gas station, there was absolutely nothing in sight. In addition,
since the land was completely flat for miles, this was the most windy
part of the country I have ever set foot in. I am not exaggerating.
It was almost impossible to stand up without being blown over, let
alone walk to Arby’s. In addition, it was freaking cold. It is June,
yet it was about 45 degrees. Doesn’t make much sense. Most of you
know that I do a pretty awful job of producing body heat, so I was not
pleased. It was not long before we were back on the road, headed to
Utah. Once again, the ride was awesome as far as scenery goes, but
there are seriously no signs of life for hours before you hit skyline
again, other than the occasional mountainside trailer park. We also
hit a snowstorm! In June! The Midwest is a bizarre, cold, empty
place.
We arrive in Salt Lake City. All stereotypes had been discussed (and
argued) for several hours already, so I was ready to see what exactly
this city had in store. As I suspected, there was nothing that jumped
out at me as overwhelmingly Mormon. We found the venue, but found no
one inside, so we set out to find some grub. Bill and I were set on
finding Vietnamese food, because we had been talking about wanting it
since Dallas and were sick of waiting for it. Not to our surprise,
the other boys weren’t too keen on it. Why culture yourselves when
you can eat another Fried Chicken McShit? I don’t understand you
people. Whatever. We decided that instead of arguing, we would just
drive the blazer to the nearest car shop, since BJ’s “check engine”
light had turned on somewhere in Idaho. Bill and I had decided that
we’d be willing to compromise, as long as we could eat some sort of
noodles. Then we see it – “NOODLES.” A restaurant sitting within
walking distance of the car shop. How well did that work out? I am
ecstatic. We take care of the car (apparently nothing was wrong with
engine, but the tires were down to the wire – probably from driving
about 8,000 miles in 3 weeks), tell the mechanics about the show, and
head over to Noodles. Bill and I get exactly what we were looking for
– Pad Thai, and Amos gets the most cliché dish on the menu – chicken
noodle soup. Thank god he got his daily dose of poultry and
normality.
I will go ahead and mention that there is nothing different about this
city that you immediately observe, besides the fact that it’s in a
beeeauuuuutiful location. I’m kind of a mountain fan, and there are
plenty around here.
After dinner, we headed back to the venue and loaded in. Amos decided
that tonight he would try to push his limits and see how much total
jack-assness he could pull until we said something. He stood
snickering as we all loaded equipment, and when someone finally looked
over and asked what he was doing, he simply replied, “I’m watching you
load my shit.” We decided it was easier to just let him slide that
night and finished up loading without him. We then walked over to a
nearby coffee shop. It was HUGE. Easily bigger than your standard
restaurant. Me and BJ could have spent hours there, but the other
boys were quickly over it and ready to get back to the venue. Me and
Beej snuck back to the shop later and got another wireless fix.
I will mention the one thing that made me fall in love with SLC – they
know how to pick fun at their own stereotypes. Their local brew was
dubbed the “Polygamy Porter.” Slogan – “Why have just one?” How
beautiful is that? No shame. They had it on tap, but warned us that
it tasted awful. It wasn’t on the free-beer-for-band list, so I
refrained from trying it, but I appreciated it nonetheless.
The show was interesting. The staff and the crowd were so friendly,
and I spent much of the night getting to know the bartenders and
owner’s boyfriend. The opening band, on the other hand, were one of
the most ignorant, unprofessional, amateur folk I have ever
encountered. It’s probably better that we all either didn’t care to
learn their name, or forgot it by the end of the set. They were late
to arrive, took their time setting up, and started playing about 45
minutes late. I will also mention that their set consisted entirely
of awkward lyricless dissonant jams, ripped completely from Pink Floyd
albums. That shouldn’t necessarily be an awful thing, but they
managed to make it sound like complete rubbish. I wouldn’t have
really known the amount of Floyd they had ripped off if Zack hadn’t
run around the bar in a rage explaining exactly what song and album
each portion of the set was stolen from. They played a longer set
than they were scheduled for, broke down their gear on stage (that’s a
big no-no), and didn’t stick around to catch the other bands for even
a minute. I’m glad they find joy in tarnishing the lineups of bands
that are actually musically sound. I wonder how they sleep at night.
Next came High Beams. Total upgrade. These guys were a local
alt-country act whose lead guitarist, Mike, had been named “the best
lead guitarist SLC has seen in over 20 years.” I won’t argue it. He
seriously took the spotlight during their set. The AA boys took stage
afterwards, and played a solid set for a bigger crowd than we normally
run into on the west side. I sold a ton of merch, and the boys had to
have a little CD-signing session, which made me laugh. We said our
goodbyes to Quimby, my new friend and excellent bartender, and headed
to Mike and Veronica’s place. BJ and Mike went head-to-head on
namedropping and musical trivia, and after about 2 hours of this, I
got sick of it and went to bed in my cozy perch on the living room
floor at 4am. Overall, a good first taste of Utah. Onward to Denver.
The drive from Seattle to Boise was one of the most beautiful and
bizarre routes I have ever witnessed. Our route extended eastward
through Washington toward Spokane, then south, back through Oregon for
a second, then into Idaho. For those of you who are unfamiliar with
Washington terrain – western Washington is green rainforest +
mountains + water.. the most beautiful American land I have ever laid
eyes on. Eastern Washington, on the other hand, is a desolate
wasteland. The mountains and forest suddenly turn into barren rolling
hills with these teeny grayish-green shrubs lightly scattered about.
It’s pretty in its own right, but it really is awful compared to the
west side.
Once we began encountering rolling tumbleweed on the interstate, we
knew we were near Boise. This town is in the absolute middle of
nowhere. My friend Paul from Washington had told me that he loved
Boise, and that it was a neat little pedestrian-friendly city.
Perhaps it was pedestrian-friendly only because the city itself was
completely devoid of life and you could walk anywhere without fear of
human contact in general.
Tonight we were scheduled to open for Ocho, a one-man acoustic act
that frequents The Terrapin Station every Tuesday night. Ocho was a
small-statured, long-ponytailed man with nothing but an acoustic
guitar and politics on his mind. He brought an amazing hippy posse
that danced their asses off during our entire set. Seriously, this
crowd had more fun during a show than I have seen since Columbia or
Little Rock. That’s a lot to say for Boise.
The owners loved us, and ended up treating us to a few extra IPA’s.
Chris was a bit more enthusiastic than usual about pounding them. We
hung around and sipped our bevies during Ocho’s set, which ended up
being about 3 hours long. Had it been any longer, Chris would have
drank himself into a coma. At one point, Ocho invited the boys on
stage for a little “jaaam session,” which ended up being a drunken
slosh of dissonant chords and drunken clanging, but I will give them
credit for a good effort, despite the lack of preparation and high
blood alcohol content.
Eventually, the set ended and we started packing up (Chris actually
passed out on stage while breaking down his drum set), still not
having a clue of where we were staying that night. Zack had been
working hard on one particular hippy chick that he found quite
attractive after a few IPA’s. She had no place for us to stay, as she
was traveling the country herself, but she did agree to go grab a
post-show bite to eat with us. The sound guy, who spent most of the
night getting Zack baked out of his mind, wanted to join us as well.
We all headed to a 24-hour diner somewhere in downtown Boise. I don’t
know if this was a Boise thing or just this diner’s thing, but scones
were all over the menu. The diner actually called itself “home of the
scone.” For those of you who have never had a scone, I would describe
it as a hard triangular muffinish biscuity object. Apparently we on
the east-side are seriously under-appreciating this delicacy so
strongly supported in Idaho.
Anyway. Chris was absolutely wasted by this point. He decided that
Zack’s hippy ladyfriend was actually destined to be HIS lover. I
can’t really illustrate how awkward this late-night meal was, and
despite me trying as hard as I could to concentrate solely on my food
and not listen to Chris’s game-spitting, it was hard to miss such
lines as “Do you think I’m hot? ..because I think your eyes are
dreamy.”
Al Green comes on the radio. Chris has found his golden moment.
“You – look into my eyes. This is fate.”
He proceeds to sing to her for the next 3 minutes. The whole
experience was awesomely, disgustingly awkward. A disaster really.
Hippy ladyfriend decided to part ways with us after the diner. Chris
doesn’t remember a single thing.
Having no place to stay (the sound guy offered us his place, but he
had no electricity, so we declined), we drove through Idaho for a
while, and finally found a hotel at 4:30 a.m. out in god knows where.
I haven’t been so happy to see a shitty hotel in my life. We brought
our things in, as Chris, perhaps frustrated about losing the love of
his life at the diner, threw his belongings around the parking lot and
the hotel room. He doesn’t remember this either. Eventually we were
all lulled to sleep by BJ’s apneatic snoring fits.. an excellent end
to an extremely long day in Idaho.
So it felt great arriving in the northwest, but I had forgotten how
much Seattle dominates any part of this region. Or.. well, I actually
didn’t know for sure, since I had never really been anywhere besides
Seattle, but I had a feeling it was the case.
The city was just as great as I remembered it (I spent a week in
Seattle in March, and I’ve been obsessed ever since). The weather was
great.. not sunny, but not rainy. Good northwest weather for sure.
Our venue, The Tractor Tavern, was located in the Ballard district, a
more artsy nook in the northern side of town. I hadn’t seen this part
of town before, and it was PERFECT. Full of restaurants and coffee
and art and sculpture and dogs. There were also Norwegian things
everywhere I turned, from flags to names of Norwegian cities carved in
the sidewalk. It makes sense.. last time I was in Seattle I spent a
long time talking to an old man in the hostel I was staying in, and he
explained to me how Seattle was once inhabited by 70% Scandinavians (I
could be totally off because I can’t quite remember, but I’m just
throwing that number out there), and now about 30% remain. Still a
lot of freaking Norwegians. It’s refreshing.
Also – People embrace their paleness here. Perhaps this is because
they never see the sun. Regardless, I found my kind and I was
pleased.
I was itching to take the boys downtown to see the EMP building
(experience music project – this building is the most awesomely
bizarre hodgepodge of architecture I have ever seen), Pike Place
Market (the waterfront market famous for the fish-throwing), and other
goodies I encountered last time I was in town. Traffic was a bit of a
bitch, and I forgot that we actually had to find parking, so we just
drove through town and I pointed out every point of interest and
restaurant I saw last time around. The boys are infatuated with they
city. It makes me happy. This entire time they have been wondering
why a simple mention of the city almost puts me into a seizure.
I didn’t do much photogging while I was in Seattle, mostly because I
had already taken so many during my last trip. Beej made up for it
though. I was also too busy taking the city back in.. I really cannot
express to you how much I love this place.
Eventually we made it back to Ballard, strolled around town, grabbed a
peppermint latte and some dinner, then headed back to The Tractor
Tavern for show time. This venue was definitely one of the best we
have played, if not the best. I spent a good bit of time in the
greenroom (many venues have lounges in the back for bands to hibernate
in before and after their set) reading the plethora of sharpied poop
references covering the wall. I’m guessing that the staff originally
wanted to add a little character to the rear décor, so they all ended
up covering the wall in what would resemble band signatures, but were
actually just enhanced band names… and by enhanced, I mean.. contained
the word poop (The Red Hot Chili Poopers, Death Cab for Poopie, Judas
Poop.. the list goes on). BJ signed AA’s name on the wall, and we
couldn’t really come up with a good way to effectively incorporate
poop, so we just wrote it directly above the signature with several
exclamation points. I feel like it counts by association.
We eventually started drinking and sat town to check out the opening
act, Barton Carroll. Once again, I remind you that we have played
with great acts such as Due East, Kid Hart, and Sonia Leigh, and
played with some god-awful acts (which I will refrain from naming)..
Barton set himself apart from everyone we have played with yet. I
can’t compare him to the other acts, simply because he was nothing
more than a one-man acoustic act devoid of any backing band, but his
songwriting was absolutely unreal. His song, “Shadow Man,” about
growing up in his older brother’s shadow, then losing him to cancer on
bad terms, left about half of the band bawling. This was the first
time I have EVER cried during a song.. and I can’t even usually cry
period, even if I want to. That says something. He was an amazing
storyteller (we later found out that “Shadow Man” was fictional), and
his music really was beautiful. We were all sold.
When the boys started their set, Barton spent some time chatting with
me at my merch perch, and he offered to take us in for the night.
Once again, Helena lands the team a place to stay. Rock. I have
noticed that musicians are usually the most hospitable people on tour,
simply because they are either going through the woes of tour or have
been through it several times already. They get it.
The boys played a great set and the right people were there to see it.
Apparently The Tractor Tavern has a close connection with KEXP, one
of Seattle’s most kickass radio stations. Radio is usually crap.
KEXP is not. If you combined the indie-ipod-playlists of all of my
musically-inclined friends in Raleigh, you’d get something similar to
a standard KEXP rotation. Their podcast has been #1 in the world, and
might still be. I don’t know. I actually spent an afternoon in the
station late time I was in Seattle.. they just rock. Anyway, the
owner of The Tractor Tavern apparently contacted KEXP and told them
how amaaaaaazing American Aquarium was (which is kind of a big deal,
because this venue is the northwest home for the top alt-country acts
in the nation). The music director immediately sent Beej an email
asking for a CD to put on rotation. This is a huge deal!!!!!! I
think so anyway.
After the show, we followed Barton to his lovely home on a hill that
he and his girlfriend share. We had to be sneaky, because she is a
2nd grade teacher and had to be up early in the morning for work. I
quickly found refuge on the kitchen floor. I had wanted to take the
boys up to Queen Anne’s Hill to see the INSANE view of the skyline,
but it looks like I’ll just have to wait until next time. There will
certainly be many more times if I can help it.
Hey people. You thought the emails were no more? You are sadly mistaken.
This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I’m writing from a coffee shop in downtown Portland, Oregon. I flew in from Raleigh today. I spent about five days at home, and I wanted to make sure that everyone is okay, so I am glad I went. I just didn’t need to be there any more.. not good for me. Most of you know I’m not much for negative environments. Furthermore, a friend of the band (the attorney that rented us a hotel room in Birmingham and loaned us her house in Little Rock) heard about my situation and offered to fly me anywhere in the country on HER frequent flier miles. What the heck. I don’t even know her, but I love her. A lot. I will meet her in Denver, and I am still trying to figure out a way to adequately thank her. I am SO freaking happy to be on the road again. If I didn’t come back, I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life. This is seriously the most intense and generally awesome adventure I’ve ever been on.
The band is currently driving here from Vegas (a painful 15 hour drive), but they won’t be here for a few more hours. So I am exploring the city solo. I am already in love with the city. I FREAKING LOVE THE NORTHWEST. It is beautiful here. The weather is actually nice too! No rain, 85 degrees. Not that I would know the difference, I’m hibernating within a coffeehouse.
Also – Thanks for the mass assault of condolences and hellos I’ve received since I left tour.. it means a lot. I’m doing okay. I think being back on the road will be good for me.
Ok, that’s all for now. More good times will be in your inbox soon!
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/25/2007 – Little Rock
We had a photoshoot scheduled in LR at 2:00 this afternoon. Thank god we came up the night before, because we still came close to oversleeping. Much better than oversleeping and waking up 6 hours away.
We picked up the photographer downtown. She has done some amazing work photogging artists around the country, and came back from LA to spend the day with us. We wandered around town, and I had the best time watching the boys awkwardly pose for shots for a few hours. I could tell they were in agony.
By the time the shoot was done, she got some amazing shots, and we should be getting them within a week or so. I took another nap, and woke up just in time to head over to the venue, The Whitewater Taven. This place absolutely rocks. It almost closed down last year, but in February, a group of guys who had been drinking there since they were 14 decided to buy the place out and make it a kickass music venue. They are a huge fan of AA, and made sure to promote them well.
I’m sitting here in the bar we speak, and it is packed wall to wall. AA just finished their set, and the crows absolutely loved it. We’ll be here for a few more hours hanging out, and then the boys who own this place are taking us out for a celebration at a “late night bar,” one that stays open until 5 or so. I’m not sure how that’s legal, but I won’t question it. I have a feeling that tonight will be in the ranks with Columbia round 2. We’ll see what happens.
[Postlog]
The night ended up a bit different than expected. Nick, the co-owner who planned to take us out that night ended up leaving the bar, so late-night was a no-go. By 2:00, there would have been no freaking way we were able/willing to keep going anyway. After AA’s set, the boys came back and hung out with me at my merch perch, which was conveniently placed right beside the bar, so I had the chance to get to know all of the co-owners, sound crew, and some fans, including Heath and Jonesy, who great guys who have been to at least 15 shows and drove all the way from Oklahoma to catch us tonight.
At one point I was serenaded by some very drunk fellow who kept buying Amos shots of Jameson.
This led to the rebirth of the Baynes-monster, who spend most of his night screaming at the other band, trying to start fights, and saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times. Basically, he and BJ switched roles for the night (not that BJ does much screaming or fight-starting, but his generally inappropriate behavior makes up for it).
After getting harassed by the 3rd guy in the venue parking lot while we were babysitting Baynes, I was just ready to go. The night was beyond great, but I had been up for two nights straight already and I just needed to crash. We finally headed home and there was nothing keeping me from the big fat goosedown (yes, another) bed waiting for me.
Little Rock may be my favorite city thus far.. I like the aesthetics of Atlanta better, but the people in Little Rock absolutely rock. You can bet I’ll be at The Whitewater Tavern again before too long.
Hey people. At this point I would usually have a new batch of stories for you but I’m a bit behind on my writing. I have since been to Baton Rouge, Houston, Dallas, and now Austin. All have been absolutely great.
This morning, both BJ’s dad AND my dad had massive heart attacks. BJ’s dad survived, mine did not. As much as I had been looking forward to heading to the Grand Canyon, Joshua Tree, the Cali coast, Hollywood, Seattle, Portland and Denver more than anything on the entire trip, I just can’t justify choosing that over my dad’s funeral. I’m catching a plane tomorrow and headed home, two weeks early.
I hope you all have enjoyed my logs.. be sure to come up to Raleigh sometime and catch one of American Aquarium’s shows with me, so you can see what fools I have been rocking the country with.
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/24/2007 – Knoxville to Starkville to Little Rock
We all had agreed to wake up at 10am to get a head start to Starkville. Once again, we completely disregard the alarms we set and sleep in until 12. I steal a 3-minute shower from the random Tennesee ladies and we go on our way. I think all of the girls were still sleeping when we left. Thanks ladies, whoever you are!
The drive was long.. about 7 hours.. but it was gorgeous for the most part. Things are quite cozy in the SUV and we have no choice than to have a comfort bubbles constantly violated, but we’ve getting used to it. We also had an awesome lunch of leftover pizza from Barley’s in a gas station parking lot with a good view.
Once we started seeing billboards containing divine guidance such as “THOUGH SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY” or a simple, yet effective “JESUS,” we knew we were back in the dirty south. Starkville was not quite as urban as most of our stops so far. There isn’t much around. It is the home of Mississippi State, where my stepdad spent the 7 years of his undergraduate career. This is no Chapel Hill though. We got lost for a minute and ended up seeing a bit of “downtown” (a street with commercial establishments and people present), but it still wasn’t much to see. I suppose it’s a little emptier than usual since school is out for the summer. We eventually stopped and asked a police officer where Dave’s Dark Horse Tavern is. Actually, we didn’t even mention that.. Zack started off with “we’re a band playing a show tonight…” The cop lit up immediately and said “Dark Horse Tavern! Take a right and then go down 9 lights and take your next right and then a left and straight for 30 yards and a left and a right and you’re there.” Not that complicated, but that’s what it sounded like to me.
We eventually found the place. It was old and dusty and dark, just how we like it. We had free pizza yet again, but this time we had free beer with it. Upgrade.
At first, the venue was pretty empty for the show. By the end of it, we had a new posse of dedicated followers lined up in front, and another line to the merch stand. I sold more merch that night than ever, and the venue treated us SO much better than we expected paywise. I feel like this won’t be the last time AA visits Starkville.
Zack got exceptionally sloppy that night and almost quit the band in a drunken stupor, but we eventually calmed him down and convinced him to ride along to our next destination, Little Rock. We left that night and arrived in LR around 6 am at a house a friend loaded us for the visit. I spent some time emailing and being a general computer nerd, and eventually passed out at 8am. You could say my sleep schedule is a little warped. Good end to a busy day!
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/23/2007 – Asheville to Knoxville
Tour has been successful thus far, but there is one little problem we collectively have (besides alcoholism) – sleeping in. Every night we plan our moderately early wake-up time, then immediately disregard it and sleep in until lunchtime or later. Not that this really cuts into our schedules (as we have none besides playing shows around 10:00pm), but it would be nice to have one person drive to next destination while the rest doze off in the back, leaving us the rest of the afternoon to explore the town before showtime. It never quite works out like that though.
This particular morning, we accidentally sleep in until 1 or so, eat some kickass granola/yogurt/fruit concoction, drink some amazing coffee (Asheville folk really know how to grub, at least in my opinion), pack our junk, and head to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Our amazing hosts, Amanda and Kirsten, offered to take us to a waterfall just to satisfy the burly mountain man in us.
Unfortunately, it seems that only Amos and I truly appreciated the majesty of our adventure. Okay, I’ll give Zack and Bill credit for being jolly, but I don’t think BJ and Chris enjoyed themselves that much. In fact, I have never seen a group of men complain so much about being outdoors. Perhaps the drive was a bit longer than expected, but after about 30 minutes on the Blue Ridge Parkway, we parked and hiked for a good while.
I took about 300 photos, then we hiked back to the auto, said our goodbyes to Amanda, Kirsten and boyfriend, and headed off to Knoxville.
Highway 40 between Asheville and Knoxville is stunning. Unfortunately, we drove under one of the worst downpours I have ever seen in my life. You thought our lives were in danger in Columbia? This drive mostly consisted of hydroplaning while squeezing between concrete walls and semi-trucks at 60 mph. I am glad to be alive.
Eventually things cleared up and we made it to Knoxville. Knoxville is interesting. Very old city.. it seems like little development has occurred in the last 500 years. I guess you could say it was vintage and has character, but I just see a large dusty desolate wasteland.
[I promise I am not normally a negative person, and don't usually have only harsh words to say about every new spot I encounter, but I think I'm just not a fan of old southern cities. I know that if I had more than a couple of hours to explore more than the radius of the city within walking distance of a venue I'd discover some great things, but I just don't have the time to find out anything more than what I do within these limits. We'll see what happens once I reach the west coast.]
We are playing at Barley’s Taproom, a HUGE restaurant and bar in downtown Knoxville. To give you an idea of the venue… this is where Lucero and other high-end alt-country acts play whenever they come through.
We were supplied with all the free food we could possibly want. I ordered the best pizza I could possibly come up with, then immediately left the venue to explore town. I encountered an old junk shop and stepped in to take a gander. I talked to David, the owner, for a while. Apparently this was the oldest antique shop in all of Knoxville. He explained his idea of the city to me – “it’s like an awkward teenager. You know it will eventually grow up into something great, but you are just damn ready for it to go ahead and get it over with.”
I took his photo and headed back to Barley’s to grub. We probably bought 150 bucks worth of gourmet pizza and calzones and nachos. Unfortunately, they weren’t offering us any sort of drink discounts. Being the spoiled clients we are, we were bitter and decided to play a sober show. I don’t think they realized how much $$ they lost with that decision.
The show itself sounded great. I shot a few videos, all of which ended up flawless, despite my camera still being grainy. After the full band played a set, BJ stayed up and played another hour of solo material, while the boys sat with me and looked at pictures and Zack sat at the bar trying to find us places to stay for the night.
We originally had a spot landed at a friend of BJ’s, but she had a family emergency and had to step out for the night, so we were out of options. Zack found a fan who wanted to put us up for the night, but he ended up turning his phone off and sketching. After some discussion, we decided that it would be best just to drive straight to Starkville, Mississippi (approx. 7 hours) and just sleep on the way. Not the most comfortable option, but it was our only one at the point.
I was going to drive first shift. Just as I was pulling out of the parking lot, we spot a car of foxy ladies leaving the Taproom. We decide that we have nothing to lose, and BJ approaches their car to inquire about a place to stay. The girls offer their place. Success! We later find out it’s because they saw a girl with the posse (that girl being me). I knew my job was important.
We end up staying the night with these three chicks in downtown Knoxville.. I do not remember their names. One of the girls was from Goldsboro, and I’m pretty sure we knew at least 15 people in common. We spent most of the night looking at videos of the show and playing with Nornton, their kickass dog. Seriously, I cannot express to you how freaking cool that dog was. He will forever be engrained into Bill’s and my memory. I even got to sleep in a bed instead of a couch or floor. Great random ending to a night in Knoxville.
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/22/2007 – FREE DAY at Lake Norman/Asheville
We all woke up rested for once! This is a rarity.. we usually get away with 4-5 hours of sleep a night. I think I slept in later than anyone, because I woke up to the boys playing guitar and imitating the grandpa/grandson blues duo we heard during early open mic hour the night before… poor chaps. I thought they did fine. Musicians can be such pretentious assholes.
We went to lunch at McAlister’s Deli, and happened to run into Ricky Rachtman, old-school VJ for the Headbanger’s Ball, did a bunch of work on MTV and VH1.. etc. It was a little before my time, but I recognized him anyway. The boys who recognized him were absolutely giddy, but didn’t quite have the balls to go say hello. Ricky even happened to walk right through our group in the parking lot, but BJ still wouldn’t talk… and so Ricky disappeared into the plaza.
We headed back to the house and spent a few hours on the lake. BJ almost killed both Bill and Jessica (Bill’s girlfriend) on the jet skis (“there’s nothing manlier than cruising on a jet ski at 65 mph… I’m glad we didn’t die”). I didn’t sunburn! I hadn’t had a real day on the water since my junior year of high school. I needed it.
Reid’s parents invited us to stick around for dinner, and they cooked us a fantastic meal. I was pleased. I talked to Reid’s dad at length about his job, and after finding out that he started a building company with a degree in English, I am feeling inspired about having a potentially irrelevant degree for my future. He ended up giving me a copy of his portfolio and all of his contact information. I think it may come in handy.
After some frantic attempts at updating travel logs, we all decided to head out and seek shelter in Asheville at the abode of some good friends who came to visit us in Charlotte the night before (the ones who kidnapped Zack). Once again, the GPS system misleads us a bit, but we arrive at the house around 1:00 am. We eventually hit the hay near sunrise.
We all know and accept that this day WILL be the best day we have on tour. But that’s only judging according to amount/quality of sleep and lack of strenuous activity. We are all glad we had a break, but the boys are ready to rock more faces. Onward.
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/21/2007 – Columbia to Raleigh to Charlotte to Lake Norman
So, you remember that van exchange that was supposed to have happened right about now? It ended up falling through. To complicate matters further, we had to give back the van we were currently in TODAY. By 1:00 or something. In Raleigh. Being rideless from this point forward, we decide to just take BJ’s SUV and attach a trailer to the back to carry our junk. He has done this before for east coast tours and it’s worked fine, apparently.
There are definitely pros and cons to both modes of transportation:
Old Van:
• It was substantially larger and wider than normal vehicles, and despite the two back rows being filled with our crap, there were still two free rows of seats behind the driver, so two people could sit in the front, and two each on the rows behind, with plenty of space to maintain a personal comfort bubble (mine is pretty large).
• Since we didn’t have a trailer, all of our junk was in the van. Sometimes we would be carrying instruments in our laps. Loading and unloading was a real inconvenience because instruments and equipment always ended being on top of personal luggage, so if you needed anything from your bag, you were out of luck.
• The van got about 400 miles to the tank, but the tank was huge and took about 90 bucks to fill up.
• The van drove horribly. Well, I take that back. Maybe the van had potential to be a good ride, but it certainly did not combine well with BJ’s already sub-par driving skills (“BJ, why are you driving in the left lane?” “It’s just the wind”).
BJ’s SUV:
• The SUV is a loooot smaller than we anticipated. Maybe it could hold BJ and five 12-year-old girls (his ultimate fantasy), but 5 grown guys and a tall Scandinavian chick – not so easy. Two in the front, three squished in the back seat, and one sitting in the very back on top of piles of pillows, clothes, and snack crackers. I will definitely be over my phobia of body contact by the end of the month.
• Our van is free of mess, besides the pile of junk/humans in the very back.
• The SUV also gets about 400 miles to the tank, but only takes about 40 bucks to fill up.
• The ride is still a little rough and dangerous, but that’s only due to BJ’s driving now.
So we’re stuck with the SUV, which is okay, despite the circumstances. Eventually we leave Raleigh and head to Charlotte.
I have only been to Charlotte twice before this.. first on a field trip to the Discovery Place in 5th grade, then later for the Meineke Bowl on New Year’s Eve 2004 (the day before 2005, just to clarify). I was excited to return.
Our venue, The Evening Muse, was actually located in a smaller art district on the outskirts of the city, a part of town I’d never seen before. It was small, but awesome nonetheless. We grabbed a bite to eat at an amazing sandwich shop down the street where I had one of the best burgers of all time.. sautéed mushrooms and beefness and blue cheese and other veggies. I don’t usually even like burgers. I was pleased. The spot was well decorated and wi-fied and played Widespread on repeat. It was also painted royal blue on the OUTSIDE. I tend to base my judgment of cities on their bars and restaurants.. I approve of the Charlotte art district. Good thing I don’t have to drive 8 hours to get to it.
Anyway, the show was complicated. We couldn’t load our stuff in until 10, when we were supposed to go on (we usually load in when we arrive at a venue.. 6, 7 o’clock, whenever). Well…. The band that played before us ended up playing a bit longer than expected.. about an hour longer.
11 rolls around, and we are all fairly frustrated and still quite hung over from our night in Columbia. You could say the show lacked a little fire. We are the only ones who knew the difference though. The boys sounded great, and I had the opportunity to do some photogging and shoot some videos. We had people donate money on top of merch sales, thanks to my charm and awesome sales skills, of course. Some friends from Asheville who came to see the show kidnapped Zack and took him barhopping as we parted ways to head for Lake Norman.
BJ’s good friend Reid, who used to play drums for AA, offered us his home for the night, even though he was actually in Raleigh for summer school. His parents were ready and excited, and had even prepped the jet skis for us to take out in the morning. Score. The GPS system in BJ’s automob seems to be rigged by the city of Charlotte. It intentionally led us off of highway 77, into the city for several loops, and then back onto the exact highway 77 exit. Sketchy. BJ also came dangerously close to having us beaten and killed in a traffic jam due to late-night construction. Moral of story: if people want to cut in line THAT bad, just let them.
I can’t forget to mention how amazing the opening band was. You may think that I’m blindly supporting every band we happen to play with, but let me tell you, we’ve played with plenty of awful bands so far. When I have a good word to say about a band, I mean it.
Ok. So apparently there are several musicians that do shows at The Evening Muse, most out of California, all amazing. They decided to get together and do a cross-country tour this time around, and we happened to be playing a show with them. They call themselves “The North LaBrea All-Star Conquistadors.” Despite the name, you would take them very seriously if you heard them… I was blown away. They packed the house. Unfortunately, they weren’t really interested in making friends that night, probably because we were a bunch of hung over whiney little bitches at the time. Oh well.
Eventually we arrived at Reid’s house. Hmm.. to describe Reid’s house. Gigantic abode sitting on a peninsula on Lake Norman. Next lot over houses a Nascar Driver (I would have remembered the name if I actually cared about Nascar). Next-next lot over sits a five-story house with floors made of 200-year-old Chinese railway planks that cost more than our lives. All of these houses were built by Reid’s dad, who owns a luxury homebuilding company. For those of you who aren’t aware, I have a sore spot for architecture/design/building/construction. I feel like in a past life I may have been a construction worker, and loved every minute of it.
Ok, enough about the amazing house and amazing owners. We all got our stuff together and went to our beds (yes, we each had a bed to ourselves.. that = 6+ bedrooms), but not before me, Beej, Bill, and Jessica (Bill’s girlfriend who came up for the night) snuck around the house taking pictures. We might be lame, yes, but we slept in goosedown beds in a lakefront mansion and you didn’t. We win.
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/20/2007 – Birmingham to Columbia
The 20th was supposed to be our day off, but Columbia loved us so much that Due East put together a show for us at The Whig, the downtown bar we went to after our last Columbia show a few days ago.
The Due East boys apparently had a pretty big party that evening, and brought the after-party to the Whig. I will go ahead and tell you that this show was destined to be amazing from the start. The bar was packed by 9, and with a crowd that couldn’t have been more perfect. Half of the crowd had on black Lucero t-shirts. We knew we were in.
I actually spent the first half of the evening in a downer… I think it was because I was almost turned away from receiving a wristband at the bar. Even though I always manage to prevail, the battle always brings me down. Oh, the woes of being a child. Anyway. They supplied us with dinner that night (I had one of the best hodgepodges of grub ever given to me – smoked gouda mac&cheese, steamed broc and zucchini, and sweet potato fries. I’m still not over it). They has also originally promised us a free bar tab, but since word is apparently spreading that AA (ironic, yes) is a drinking band, they decided to max it out at 75 dollars. It’s pretty sad that the bar will give you a free $75 bar tab on a $2 liquor night because they expect you to exceed it substantially.
All of the friends we made at our first Columbia show were back to see us… All of the boys from Due East, including Zack and Tracy who housed us last time.. big ol’ Jimmy came out and brought his wife, and Tug, the one who wrote some amazing reviews for us in the Columbia Free Times, came back to play.
The bar was packed, and when the boys started playing, the crowd was immediately obsessed. People were extremely social here, and I began making friends pretty quickly. BJ made the mistake of telling the crowd that the lady sitting beside the glowing suitcase of merchandise sucking down vodka grapefruits (that lady being me) could out drink anybody at the bar. This is of course a total lie. My alcohol tolerance has increased marginally since we left, but it is still sitting at the level of around a high school sophomore. Slight upgrade, but definitely not enough to prepare me for what I was in store for that night. I had six different people buying me drinks from that point onward. I took my first shots of chartreuse and whiskey ever. I also had my first buttery nipple, bought for me by Jimmy’s wife. I actually had more girls buying me shots than guys. Sweet. Believe it or not, I remained composed that night. I always do though. Most people don’t really know when I drink or not, because I act a lot like I do when I’m sober. I just talk A LOT more. Yes, that is possible.
To give you an idea of how much alcohol was in our bodies:
•$75 bar tab? No. We rang up a $175 bar tab. This does not include drinks that were bought for us (people were buying shots for the band/myself the entire night).
•I spent more time talking to people and dancing than I did at my merch perch.
•I gave away EP’s when people didn’t have money to buy them. (sorry BJ!)
•Nobody remembers packing up anything. The next day everything was mixed up in different bags, I had no idea how much merch I sold, and most of us thought we had lost at least half our belongings).
•Zack woke up with two new tattoos.
Now, I don’t normally write about excess alcohol consumption like it’s something to be proud of. It’s not. There really is just no other way to tell that story without seeming like there is emphasis on it. In reality, there is no emphasis.. it was just that bad. And by bad I mean the best night we have had on tour thus far. We freaking love you Columbia.
[Disclaimer: The 2007 views of Helena do not necessarily reflect the current views of Helena.]
5/19/2007 – Tallahassee to Birmingham
For the first time ever, mapquest treats us well! We make it to Birmingham with no problem. Our ride was lovely. We stopped in a Wal-Mart in rural Alabama, so I could pick up some produce and BJ and I could stock up on peanut butter and bread (we are trying to boycott spending money and eating fast food twice a day). Rural Alabama Wal-Marts are not really any different from North Carolina Wal-Marts. I suppose it is just where the severely socially and educationally retarded find refuge, regardless of the region. Not much further into the state, we run into a confederate flag at full mast on the side of the highway, and a billboard that reads “GO TO CHURCH, OR THE DEVIL WILL GET YOU!” both within 5 miles of each other. I’m already lovin’ this here Alabama.
We arrive in Birmingham and find our venue, The Speakeasy, fairly easy. A friend of the band was awesome enough to purchase us a hotel room for the night within walking distance.
Things I immediately notice about Alabama:
•It is the most desolate city I have ever encountered. It is a Saturday evening in a fairly large urban area, yet I can’t seem to find any signs of life within the city. I am not over exaggerating. Every store, business, bar, and restaurant was closed. There were no cars in the streets. There were no people in the street, except for one group of homeless people, one of who asked to take a pictures with me. Maybe saying no thanks makes me heartless, but maybe I can live with that.
•By 8:00, I had determined that the few white people that exist in Birmingham are idiots, and Mexicans were by far the most friendly and intelligent. We found one spot open for business, EL MEXICANO. A Mexican restaurant. There was a huge table of drunk white folk, probably a 30-top or more, who spent most of their dinner screaming in both English and Spanish, all thinking that the novelty of this act (obviously tried by no one in a Mexican restaurant before) was absolute comic genius, and therefore hilaaaarious. Did I mention that I love Alabama?
The show that night actually turned out to be really fun. The Speakeasy is a newer bar in downtown Birmingham.. it opened up about a year ago. Decorated just the way I like it. Old vintage spot restored into a modern but still somewhat dark and gritty environment. Think abstract paintings among wrought-iron gating among full unpainted brick walls among trendy glass-blown lamps suspended from 30-foot ceilings. I was pleased.
George, the bar owner, is a huge inked-up bald straight-edge kid (in other words, he does not partake in morally corrupt activity, including drinking.. and ironically he owns a bar) who you could safely compare to a Vin Diesel-esque type, aesthetically. He was actually attractive though. I have a feeling the Bama ladies love him. He and the rest of the bar treated us great, and the show was really well received. After the main set, Beej sat down played an acoustic set for some Alabama AA faithful (I will remind you again that AA = American Aquarium).
We accidentally rung up a bar tab so high that we ended up having to pay half. Where was our warning??? No bueno. Eventually, we packed up and strolled back to the hotel, where I promptly popped in my earplugs to avoid the symphony of sleep-apneatic choking and snarling from the boys (it was so bad that I could still hear it through my earplugs), and eventually passed out.
Birmingham was another city that, despite the good times at the venue, I will probably never return to. The South is just not my thing people. I’m ready to head westward!
