Posts filed under 'on the road'
A few days off after a few days on. I have a feeling I’m going to miss this when it’s over. On the road, I keep waking up as we’re driving thick into Virginia farmlands. This has happened six or seven times and each time I catch myself staring out the window, watching the trees and the plots of land blend and mesh together until someone yells at a bad call in a football game and I come back into the bus reality.
I’m making small speeches now. In front of crowds of thousands. It’s almost a show in itself–for the crew at least: the proded consumption of multiple Red Bulls, followed by nervous walking/jumping/knuckle-popping, the handover of the microphone, and finally my instructional speech to the two-fisting, hat-wearing, just-as-excited crowds who (as it is) have to go through me to get to the pop-sugar-country-candy acts that come later. I’m the opening, opening act.
So, if I remember nothing else from this summer…let it be known that I did at least this one thing:
Enter your password to view comments August 28th, 2007
Where has all the air conditioning gone? It was a thousand degrees in Nashville (for anyone keeping track of my attempt to grow carrots…they perished) when I left, and a little over 90 here in Indianapolis where we are at yet another state fair. The only fair I can remember going to was in Colorado Springs 15 years ago and I just vaguely recall almost buying a baby rabbit but deciding instead on a funnel cake. Basically, I hate fairs. The rides are sticky and hot, the lines wind, the games (darts at balloons, something with ducks in the water, BB-gun shoot) are all the same, and #1 it is always hot, hot, hot.
The heat does nothing but give shape and sustain to bus crud, which, according to Google, has many definitions and symptoms such as “lingering cough” and variants thereof, but in my experience, revolves around a pulsing, insipid smell propelled by body heat. It feels like a thin layer of invisible dirt that invades every crevice of your body, clothes, and bed linens. Even after a cold shower (and deoderant and perfume), I still feel it on me, feel it crawling around my neck and arms like a mold.
Even now, I’m in the usually cool crew room and no air seems to be flowing through. The bathroom (I’ll post a picture later) is like something out of a bad movie and just for good measure, let me just say that the stock of room temperature Red Bulls is by far the biggest collection we’ve had yet. I think someone is figuring out that the crew only drink Red Bull and water and chew on Planters mixed nuts and beef jerky. Really, that is all.
All of the above aside, I can see why people enjoy state fairs. After all, sometimes the entertainment is pretty substantial and the cost of a ticket to the show typically includes fair entry. Since Nashville has no amphitheatre now, I miss those days of sitting in the grass (or in this case, metal grandstands or desert dirt), with a beer, watching a band you love while a cool breeze brushes past you and a ferris wheel rolls in the background. Good stuff.
Enter your password to view comments August 10th, 2007
We’re in the middle of California somewhere and I’m hiding on the bus to avoid the heat. I stepped off for a few minutes earlier and almost landed in a cow prison. It seems pertinent to say at this point that I’m not exactly hiding on the bus–but making sure I’m there in case someone suddenly decides to leave this makeshift rodeo and high-tail it on to Nevada. I have an irrational fear of being left behind. I calm this fear by watching local news feeds from New York insted of Los Angeles, where we spent the past two days.
We drove through greater Los Angeles a couple of days ago. I saw the Hollywood sign amidst traffic and light smog (I bought a postcard later–a perfectly clear view). There are twelve of us all together–each a completely different part of the stage set-up, and as we move closer into the city, we all sort of pile up in the front lounge, taking pictures of…well, nothing in particular. Our previous two days were spent stranded in Tucson, the highlight of which (for me) was a Starbucks around the corner and cactus a-plenty. So, we’re pulling into Los Angeles very tired and feeling a very visceral need to a) be off the bus and b) cram everything good about LA into one day.
So, Venice Beach is exactly like any number of documentaries I’ve seen on southern California. Thousands of people walking, blading, skateboarding down a wide walkway– the mostly hippy vendors selling handmade crafts and unnatural talents on one side, and small shops and cafes selling anything and everything on the other. A friend of mine rented a tandem bicycle and we rode from the Santa Monica Pier (kind of a tourist starting point) to just beyond Muscle Beach. I passed the famed Venice Beach Guitar Guy and the glass-walking guy, so that’s LA in a dustball, right?
Then there’s the issue of bus crud, which I’ll address after my sixteenth shower…
Enter your password to view comments August 8th, 2007