I left the following bit of information out of the last blog because I didn't want to cheapen the sincerity of my words expressing thanks to people like Ed at Backstage and the fans who make us feel loved and needed. But this story needs to be told, because after our show in Gainesville, Matt, Gabe and I paid a visit to the most magical place on Earth (well, the southeastern US anyway): Cafe Risque.
|You can probably see where this is going...|
My point in mentioning the trip to Cafe Risque is not to bore you tales of bands going to strip clubs on the road, because that cliche is as well worn as the elastic on some of these women's... *ahem* g-strings (zing!). You see, the fact that we ogled nude women is not the point (it is a point, just not the point). The point is that Cafe Risque was one of the most bizarre concepts I have ever heard of, let alone experienced, and I want the world to know.
Let me paint a picture for you: imagine yourself in a Denny's. Imagine yourself sitting at the counter eating some pancakes or a cheeseburger. Got it? Now imagine that you're doing those things while high heels are stomping around your plate and a 22-year-old co-ed's butthole is grazing the tip of your nose. Throw in a pale, surly waitress and a dimly lit corner filled with porno mags and sex toys and you've got yourself the Cafe Risque.
Now just to be clear, I'm not dogging Cafe Risque. In fact, I'm thinking of starting my own franchise in the D/FW area. If you had told me that I would be going to an all nude strip club/sex shop/diner in Micanopy, FL at 4am on a Sunday morning, I would have expected the skin tautness of a Shar Pei and enough C-section scars to recreate a map of our current tour. What we found were young, friendly, clean women with good bodies and good attitudes, and perhaps that was the biggest shock of all.
Anyhow... on to the business at hand.
Back in the hotel room, I awoke at 9am after only a few hours of post-Risque sleep because I was unrealistically paranoid about the safety of our trailer and equipment in the somewhat... "questionable" area where we were staying. But sure enough, I checked the Macho Van and its cargo and all was well. Soon the others were up and we were on our way to Atlanta, GA for the final show of the eastern US leg of the tour (but not before a quick detour at Crazy Dave's Fireworks).
As you remember from the last blog entry, one of our main trailer tires suffered a bit of a tread malfunction (we now refer to the tire as "Bucktooth Billy," despite his problem being more closely related to a gap-toothed individual than a buck-toothed one) and we were running on a spare. And the spare, as it turns out, has a bit of a slow leak somewhere around the valve stem. But faced with a choice between a treadless tire and a slow-leaking one, we went with Mr. Slow Leak.
Somewhere between Valdosta and Macon, we stopped for gas and noticed that the leak seemed to have upgraded from slow to steady, and we were growing worried. The logical solution?
|Yeah... that's right. The URIZEN Special.|
|Where did we go wrong?!?|
I'm not going to bore you with the particulars of the next few hours worth of events, but I will provide you with this handy Cliff Notes version:
- Go to Walmart; no tires the size of our rim.
- Call Tractor Supply Co.; confirm that proper tire size exists there.
- Arrive at Tractor Supply; buy new tire.
- Jack up trailer; remove Bucktooth Billy.
- Find out new tire is too small; Bucktooth Billy goes back on; new tire returned.
- Back to Walmart. Closes at 6pm, but guy says he'll be there to help us with a last ditch solution if Tractor Supply fails.
- Arrive at 5:58pm; Walmart tire center closed; guy apologetic.
- Guy offers to have his cousin come and replace tire; we agree out of desperation
- Jack up trailer; remove Bucktooth Billy.
- Walmart tire guy sees Bucktooth Billy and suggests that it's fine to drive on and is still in good shape.
- Exasperated and running extremely late, Bucktooth Billy goes back on the trailer.
Yet amazingly, Billy pulls through! We made it to The Masquerade in Atlanta with enough time to load in before the first band went on and all is well.
|Welcome to HELLLLL666KILLSATANWAR|
A big thanks also goes out to Prime Mover for an utterly badass opening set, and a massive debt of gratitude is owed to the completely awesome, completely cool Brazen Angel for bringing a great crowd for us and making sure we walked away with every penny of the door money they made. It was an unexpected and overly-generous gesture, and we can't thank them enough for doing it. Just as the formula should always work, the combination of a hardworking promoter and a great lineup of bands brought a tremendously cool and enthusiastic crowd to the Masquerade on a Sunday night, and we couldn't have asked for a better end to that journey.
What followed the show in Atlanta is nothing anyone will want to read about. 13 hours of driving across the southern United States yields very little in the way of fun and adventure. It does, however, yield this humorous picture of James sleeping somewhere in Louisiana:
|Onward to Adventure!|