Monday, June 28, 2010

A Westside Story, OR, A Literal Walk Through the California Biomes

A lot has happened in the last few days. Where do I start?

I suppose we put ourselves back in Myrtle Creek, OR (though none of us ever wants to see that place again). The all ages show went a little bit better than the 21+. Unfortunately, Larry had to attend a biker gang meeting and left his son in charge of the PA. Adrian had no clue what he was doing and he let us know as often as he could.

Still, we played for an actual crowd and sold a couple of things. We even made friends with band from Washington called Ashlynn. They are sponsored by the worst energy drink on the face of the planet. So, while they played, Kurt, Kyle, and I chugged about four bottles between us and tore up the dance floor. That's right. We moshed and flailed around like the young kids. But it was mostly the endorphins and the mood changing chemicals in the energy drink. When the effects started to wear off, Kurt had broken a hip, Kyle was having an asthma attack, and I got so delusional that I thought I was at a sock hop back in the local high school gym and started doing the twist with an underage girl.

That night we had the incredible pleasure of staying with Casey. He had just moved to Myrtle Creek with his family, and we were the first people he'd really talked to. I've never met a more chill guy who was so conscience about the things that he said. He made it very clear during our conversations that he might have different tastes than other folks but that by no means meant that he looked down on them. We sat outside by the warming charcoal fire until sleep could be staved off no longer.

In the morning, Mrs. Casey's Mom made us pancakes while Jim, the father, showed us some old guitars and told us some stories of his youth. We took off early because we wanted to see the Redwood forests. And see them we did! The Redwood forests in northern California are about 4% of what used to be in that area. It's the only bit of primary forest we have left. When we left Myrtle Creek, it was blazing hot. When we got to the forest, however, it was nice and cool. SCIENCE!!!!!!

After blasting away some storm troopers and beating up stupid, primitive Ewoks, we left good ol' Endor behind and made our way to the even more magical city of Eureka, CA. It was an emotional roller coaster of a day. Seeing the Pacific Ocean, seeing the giant redwoods, watching a cup of water spill onto my Subway sandwich. Tour is exhausting!

That night, we had the distinct pleasure of playing with Port Alice, who, besides doing a rip roaring cover of Boys Don't Cry, were complete dildos. They actually lived across the street from the venue and hadn't put up a flier or even bothered to tell anyone at their favorite get togethers. So once again, we played to any empty room. The bartender liked us! We finally made it!

We didn't have a place to stay. As we were deciding who to rip open and sleep inside their body for warmth, a lady asked us to give her a ride home. JACKPOT! We stayed with Crazy Amy. The details of that night are too juicy and too hot for this tourblog. You might just have to use your imagination. All I will say is that I climbed into a hot tub only to find out it wasn't plugged in. So I basically waded around in lukewarm water for 15 minutes (I also took my panties off).

The nice fellas in Ashlynn invited us to play in San Francisco with them the next day. The only thing we had planned was a 9 hour drive to a show at family BBQ restaurant where Dillon would be forced to play electronic drums. We decided to ditch the show and go to San Fran. . . cisco. Though we missed most of the festivities, there were still some remnants of Gay Pride Day left around the city. I saw the Golden Gate Bridge, Barry Bonds, a crazy guy, and Danny Tanner. And you know what else? On the way down, it was hotter than a July crotch. But once we got to San Fran, the weather was extremely pleasant again. SCIENCE!!!!!

It was a metal show. We played first and there was actually a decent crowd. We didn't sell anything, but all of the other bands and most of the kids there came up to us and told us how much they liked it. Cheap little whippersnappers. But the show was a lot of fun. I got to see three guys do the windmill head bang with their hair in unison. I saw the bass player of the last band puke his guts out all over the stage. And the MVP of the night went to the dude who ran security. He didn't say much, but he didn't have to. The gauntlets on his arms, the Taz patch on the back of his sock hat, and the graying fu manchu said it all.

After the show, we drove across the Golden Gate Bridge where I saw Mr. Crossover himself reciting anti-gay poetry in the shadows, surrounded by tweaked out meth heads, and we came to rest at Gaby's cousin's house. Which is actually an ark that they built into a house. Not joking. The actually ark. It sits on a muddy lake and you have to walk across a dock to get to their house. There, we had cold beer and spaghetti waiting for us. We decided to check out the hot tub (which was actually working this time), but not before Kyle and Kurt both took bracing shots of Absinthe. Their reactions reminded me of a movie I saw once.

Our record store show was canceled, so we have the day off in San Francisco. We wanted to go on a tour of Alcatraz, but everything is booked up. So we're just going to have to break into Alcatraz.

We have met the friendliest folks on this tour. Now if we could only get a good show to go along with it. Here's hoping!