(Day 1 got away from us before we could say anything so it will have to be forever lost in the void. I'm OK if you are.)
Let's go!
We left Sacramento about an hour and a half ago and we’re on the long, long long long haul to Tacoma. Long means at least 11 hours, really more like 12 the way traffic’s been so far and it’s only Saturday morning. I ate a McGriddle and tried to sleep for about 40 minutes. Didn't happen. Sometimes I wish sleep could come in a can.
This is what I'm looking at.
So . . . tour! My head is ping-ponging between thoughts of wondering what this trip is going to be like and drawing comparisons to the five-week tour I did last year in Europe. That was a different experience entirely -- more people, more time, more foreign . . . more fighting? Not sure about that last one yet; Tim and I are famous for our “creative tension.” It’s good for the music but not necessarily for when you’re 2 feet away from each other in a car. Our departure from LA was a bit rocky, but somehow despite a few setbacks and a late start things went surprisingly well between us. It was only at about hour 4 that we started psychoanalyzing each other. Day 1: Exploring our issues so as to diffuse them before they make problems for us on the road and down the road. Tim and I are also famous for arguing about hypothetical situations that never happen.
So I should talk about the show, right? We got to the Fox and Goose right in time for the first performer and I went to the bathroom to make myself look less like I’d spent the morning in hours of LA traffic. Tim settled in to get some food and I went to the bar to get a drink. I introduced myself to one of the performers, who said I looked familiar. We couldn’t figure out why so I told her my theory about how I have this kind of familiar/trustworthy face and disposition that makes total strangers think I’m their little sister/favorite cousin/best friend from the fourth grade and makes them want to tell me their most secret thoughts (it helps me sometimes when I’m in a jam but I find it occasionally hurts me in dating -- no one wants to fuck their kid sister). About an hour later she asked, “Did you ever live in Boston?” I sure did! Turns out she’s the ex-girlfriend of Dave Middleton, the guitarist from my first band ever -- from EIGHT YEARS AGO. Seriously, what are the odds!!! I lost touch with him shortly after he graduated from Berklee but I remembered then that he’d moved to Sacramento, and sure enough, he still lives there. She texted him to come to the show. He got there just as we were about to go on. Our first ever show outside of LA, our first ever tour, and my first ever guitarist coming to see it. Tim said it was a good omen. I agree -- I’m still tripping out about it.
(Tim just suggested I put up a MySpace page for the band we were in, Sometimes the Culprit. He also suggested I play an old Culprit song last night. Neither suggestion entertained, thanks. )
I’m gonna wrap this up ‘cause I’m getting distracted by the scenery – we’ve crossed into a more mountainous region and Tim keeps asking me to stop and take pictures. We also just had an interesting conversation about the blog itself, in which Tim expounded on the fact that our blog and Twitter feed is pretty Melissa-centric. To which I reply: Get off your ass and write something! I’m not doing a press release here.
-M
Almost in Portland
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