This One Has Better Pics!

As I sit in yet another airport with time to reflect on my life, my friends, my favorite meals, and my favorite episode of It's Always Sunny… "The Night Man Cometh," I am reminded that I have not told the story of San Diego.  

So maybe I was in San Diego on Good Friday, maybe that was three weeks ago, and maybe for once my friend "Leather Crocs" Steith could show a little grace.  Hmm?

There's something inherently cool about playing a fly date.  Especially this one!  What I did was the equivalent of flying somewhere to watch a movie and then fly back home.  It made me feel like Bon Jovi or Van Halen (I just couldn't think anyone who exudes such coolness).  

Technically we were in Ranch Santa Fe, but that's basically San Diego (named by the French for the whale's…).  The other cool part of a show like this is having time to kill since most of the gear is not provided by the performers, which means very little load-in time.  Here are some pictures of a couple of things we did to pass the time:

Went to the beach, saw a dead seal. 

Home of the Taquito!!!

I shouldn't be, but I am excited about this!

For those that have experienced QT, you will understand just how monumental it was to eat at the supposed origin of the Taquito-to-to.  I have to admit that QT has got some catching up to do in that arena.  Please, QT, if you are reading, don't think there is any love loss.  Your amazing coffee, soda, and slushy selections are second to none.

It's a little more than awesome that I work here.

Coolest green room ever!!

I love to play music!  I really do.  But the ride to the airport far out-weighed the feeling of playing drums on this particular night.  I'll let the picture speak for itself, but you should know that it's an odd feeling to ride to the airport in a car with a roll cage.  

Alas, there's almost always something that attempts to interject sadness or fear when things are going great.  Do not fret!!  Neither of these got me down.  My personal bubble had been deemed by G.W. Bush (played by Will Ferrell, of course) a "bummer-free zone."

It's hard not to let a shoe blowout get you down.

The kind of plane maintenance that makes you feel good.

Courage Under Fire

Hello my two friends!  I'm sitting in O'Hare Int'l Airport in the windy city and thought it would be a good time to share a little bit from the road.  I need a way to unwind after our landing felt very similar to riding a curvy water slide at any one of your favorite water parks.  Not cool American Eagle, not cool.  The way I see it, telling a story of triumph is the best way to pick myself up.

On tour, we often come across unexpected circumstances or situations.  It's true.  You should know this by now because I feel confident that I have said it before.  However, this time I'm not talking about things going wrong on stage, something blowing up, or crowds throwing us for a loop.  I'm talking about the chance to show a little courage.  The chance to let everyone around me know that I am a man made of steel.

That's right!

Steel!

I am like any other man.  In the face of danger I wonder if I will have the moxie, but then I am reminded of some great words by some great people.

Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.

- Dorothy Thompson

That's hot.

-Paris Hilton

Well, my friends, not too long ago that moment was upon me.  As we left the show I had no idea of what lied ahead.  Even as we embarked on a journey for some post-show food and hang out time everything felt normal.  As odd as it may sound, I was still unaware as we crossed the threshold into one of the finest eateries in America known to some as BW3's (Buffalo Wild Wings).  

I should take this moment to remind you not to let my slim, defined, almost teenage physique fool you.  I may still have my boyish looks, but I have a passion for food that rears its head with the spirit of a sumo wrestler.  I love food, and nothing makes me happier than hot and spicy food.  Thus, our story truly begins here.

Some people talk a big talk, or, at least , joke a big joke.  Plenty of smarmy comments were heard as each person picked out his/her wing sauces, but my cop-like sixth sense let me know that there was an opportunity being presented with each joke.  Subconsciously, each dinner mate was issuing me a challenge.  

So I did what any man of steel would do.  I ordered the absolute hottest sauce on the menu (the great thing about reading is you can now take the time to gasp and cringe).  With every bite my mouth became more and more inconsolable, my lips felt like they were cracking wide open a bit more with every passing second, and all the while I was having to ignore the pain in order to remind myself of the importance of not touching or rubbing my eyes.  It was a grueling fight until the bitter end, but I finished!!  

See, I didn't simply complete a stupid stunt.  No, no, no.  I gained credibility.  I preempted boldness before anybody could even think to try and embarrass me.  I staked my claim on manly!  Lastly, I stood up and fought for those who have not had the courage to fight the good fight when required.  That night, I gave people hope.  I ate the Blazin' Sauce!

Sadly, sauce just looks like sauce until you try it for yourself.

*While it was a little humiliating, I got made fun of by our waitress (5'0" dainty blond girl) as she ate the same wings without a drink or dipping sauce while continuing to serve her customers.  

Flummoxed

For some performing comes naturally.  It is almost as if they were born with an inability to do anything else.  Others have to work hard to get to the same level as the naturals.  Those people have an innate talent for performance, but they have to learn to find it.  Both groups have to work tirelessly at their job.  Practice, practice, practice.

No amount of practice could prepare you for a show like the one we played last week. 

During practice you become very familiar with your equipment and your surroundings on stage.  It's everything off stage, otherwise known as "the crowd," that can throw you for a loop.  They are the biggest variable in a show.  Fact.

Nights one and two of this short little run of shows exhibited one of the strangest phenomena.  We played to stone cold faces.  At one point other band members saw an elderly woman bury her head in her hands and lap.  To get a good idea of the overall reaction from the crowd, see exhibit A below.

Feeling like total failures, we walked - strutted in like it was the greatest show in the history of the universe -  to the lobby with our heads held high.  We apparently did so with good reason.  The crowd really had enjoyed the show!  People were buying CD's and T-shirts, stopping to have enthusiastic conversations with the band, and walking away with a sincere look of joy on their faces.  For an idea of what we experienced after the show, see exhibit B below.

This was not the first time I have experienced this phenomenon, nor will it be the last time I am perplexed by it.  I have my theories on why this occurs.  One that sticks out in my mind is that sometimes people are just unsure of what to do at a show.  Sure they've seen live footage of a concert, but there is a disconnect when they experience a show for themselves.  As rookies they aren't confident to stand and cheer, sing along, or respond in general.  There aren't any seasoned show-goers to guide them.

Still, and unbeknownst to us, they are engaged.   Most even take the time to tell you there favorite part of the show.  Maybe it was a guitar part, a drum fill, or that moment when the lead singer jumped around like a crazy person.  Some will even go so far as to tell you how they have been practicing the same type of thing ("hair practice" for those in the biz).  

While pondering this I had an epiphany.  If you have ever been to a show in Nashville you have probably experienced the very same scene.  Me being a resident of Music City, I am often guilty of perpetuating said scene.  Is it possible that Nashville, in all of its glorious snobbery, has come full circle?  For a better idea of what I am talking about, see exhibit C below.

     Please note that Homer is incapable of recreating 

the face I was hoping to demonstrate.