"Tour"

I have always wanted to be on tour, and this felt as good a time as any. I was broke and jobless living with my parents for the summer. I had just earned a teaching credential, another useless piece of paper, and wasn’t planning on teaching high school any time soon. I always imagined touring with my friends and their respective bands across the U.S. and just letting things happen. That how I figured touring worked, you just live and things happen. I admit, I “invited my self” along in a way. I casually mentioned it, sort of as a joke, to a band I barely knew. Conrad had played at my old apartment, Pancake Island, with his former band; HOME IS COLORED GOLD. Max and I had run into each other at various shows around the Bay, but our dynamic was strictly face value. I got acquainted with the other two on the long drive through twilight and desert. A blanket of stars was our guide, and the possibilities were infinite. A lot happened on that tour…even if it was only five days of independence. Freedom from jobs, families, lovers, bills, bosses, and responsibility. I couldn’t even begin to explain what we all felt while on tour, or even less what I experienced. I’m not sure it would make sense anyhow, if you weren’t there too.
Anyways, enough of an introduction. This is a story, well a true narrative, about something that happened while I was on tour with JOHN COTA this past summer. This event occurred sometime in late July. The characters you already know. The setting is a sun-baked wasteland.
We were all in high spirits as we drove through desolate terrain edging closer and closer to the shimmering stars. No one seemed to be affected by the increasing warmth, or the consuming darkness before us. Everyone was talking at once about the night’s events: The arguing couple. The failed barbeque. Our eccentric guide through the suburbs of Los Angeles. The In N Out burgers we all ate ravenously. All of these events led us to the road that night, and there was no turning back. I mostly listened, and carefully made note of every silhouette reflecting against the windshield. I had just met two of my fellow travelers that day, and things still didn’t feel entirely cozy. We decided to drive all through the night, and find somewhere to sleep in Arizona when we arrived. Our desires rested on parting clouds. Soon we all reached that fantastic medium between fatigue and enthusiasm. Too excited to sleep, and too weary to care. We arrived at the Arizona border around 2a.m. and ceremoniously took photos in front of the sign that received us. At this point we were still foolish and optimistic, estimating when we would arrive at our objective and what we would do with our free time. Everyone agreed we would need to sleep, but we were divided on where we would rest our heads. At this point a motel was out of the question, even though the little money I had was burning a hole in my pocket. I was trying to hold out for various junk at truck stops and “curios” along the way.
It wasn’t until almost day break that the reality of driving all night with very little food in our stomachs hit us like a brick to the face. The sun was slowly beginning to stretch itself across the desert, painting everything in it’s path with brilliant colors. It was a beautiful sight to see, the way each object came alive once the sun’s paint splashed it. Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long. Traffic on our little two-lane highway came to a grinding halt. There was an accident too far to see, but we could tell it was serious. Delirious, sleep deprived, and hungry we all set out to entertain ourselves in the swelling heat. Some of us attempted to sleep in the car. Some of us hit rocks with abandoned wood. I gave someone a really awful haircut. Someone shaved themselves a hideous mustache and goatee to boot. We made friends with sleepy truck drivers, and took pictures in front of just about everything we could find. This debacle lasted two hours and 27 minutes…but it felt like an eternity. If we weren’t all mad by now, we were surely losing our minds under that sweltering sun. When we got back into the car and slowly trudged past the newly cleaned up accident, our high morale was gone. We were all hot, sweaty, hungry, and ready for alone time. The jeep became a jail cell, and we were all serving a sentence.
By the time we got into Phoenix, our first date of the tour, we were absolutely senseless. We all had wishes, but there were no words to describe them. We could only gripe about the warmth. The fact that we were 10 hours early for the show wasn’t helping either. The first thing we agreed on, after about half an hour of driving/arguing, was we needed a pool. We soon found one and immediately began disrobing and jumping in. A few lawn keeps were there, but no one seemed to mind. As soon as we were all cooled off, everyone began to laugh and joke again. Sleep was recommended, but somehow alcohol became our precedence. This was a bad idea.
The rest of the afternoon is somewhat of a blur for me. I can only be sure that we baked under that sun for hours on end. My only comfortable moment of the entire day was the 30 minutes I managed to fall asleep in the passenger seat after alcohol had successfully permeated my blood. The rest of those 10 hours was spent in a dream-like state. I remember drinking beer near a playground of an elementary school, our sleeping bags spread out like a welcome mat for rest. The bugs slowly devouring my skin prevented me from dozing off, unlike two of my cohorts, who slept happily for a few hours. There was a pizza place where I couldn’t eat because of my vegan diet, but all of the waitresses were attractive and so everyone ended up there at least three separate times. I finally found a burrito and a cold Tecate for cheap at one point. I remember a skate-punk kid appearing out of nowhere, and guiding a few of us to a record store. There wasn’t anything too exciting there, but I did find a JAWBREAKER patch. He asked us excitedly if we wanted to steal liquor from a grocery store that night, and sleep at his friend’s parent’s house, who were out of town. I’m sure more happened, but I couldn’t tell you to save my life.
Anyways, they finally played the show and a few kids were into it. After they played a metal-core band who’s name I can’t remember played. That was amusing for two and a half songs. I disappeared to call my girlfriend and find some dinner. I must have been gone a while because when I got back everyone was ready to go. The skate-punk kid showed us his favorite local hang out, another Mexican food place. Everyone said the food was decent. After that we said our goodbyes to the skate-punk kid and rolled off to our next destination: New Mexico. We would drive all night again. We hadn’t learned our lesson yet...

**This story can also be found in kyeospeaks #4**
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