The Hickoids Go West

Hello, blog, my old friend. I've come to write in you again.

Time for a recap of the last few weeks. The Hickoids returned Monday morning, August 27th, from a western states and British Columbia tour. Of all the low-budget tours I've been on over the last 30 years or so, I have to say this was perhaps the smoothest one overall. The odds on these kinds of tours are always stacked against you, for various reasons, but we came out of this one virtually unscathed. I shall commence:

The tour began (after a couple of warm-up shows in Austin and San Antonio; see previous blog entry) in Fort Worth on Thursday, August 9th. And we hit an immediate snag. The plan was for San Antonians Jeff, Tom, and Carl (our merch and video aide) to pick up Cody in San Marcos, pick me up in Manchaca, grab Rice in Austin, and we would then head north. I got a call from Jeff about 20 minutes after the first group left San Antonio; the battery and alternator were both fried in the van, due to a loose connection. They were being towed back to San Antonio for Jeff's mechanic friend to fix up quickly. The battery was new, but apparently not installed properly. Hoo boy. In the meantime, Cody was going to be dropped off at my house, and I had to drive into Austin to get Rice, as he had no easy way to get down to my place. That way, the SA Express would only have one stop before heading north. At this point, I wasn't sure we'd make the Fort Worth show.

But we did. And with about an hour to spare. Gotta hand it to Smitty's cool driving hand. The show went well, although it was a strange bill. My old friend Henry Vasquez's band Blood of the Sun was the middle band, and Mos Generator opened it up. So, we were basically closing an otherwise heavy rock bill. After setting up, I caught some of BOTS's set, and it was pretty stellar. I hadn't seen this line-up yet. Our set was okay, but some of the crowd started to drift away at the end. Typical for a Thursday night, though. It was good to see some old friends from the Honky days there, too.

Following the show, we headed to The Old Pancake House, a place we've visited before, for some sustenance, accompanied by our buddy "Hush Puppy" (who almost never "hushes"). Rice, a devout - and we were about to find out how devout - vegetarian, ordered some sort of German pancake that has its last preparation step done at the table. Fancy. Read on.

There being no rest for the wicked, especially the Hickoids, meant an immediate overnight drive to Santa Fe. About 45 minutes into the trip, the van, driven by Jeff, suddenly pulled over. I had my earbuds in and wasn't sure what was going on. Rice bolted out of the back seat and finished hurling onto the ground from the van. He had apparently already begun purging on his shoes behind me. He claimed the foul of bacon grease in his pancake order. So, we had the first puke of the tour, and a sudden deadly seriousness to Rice's vegetarian vow (like there was any doubt).

After a good rinse of the back of the van, we headed on to Santa Fe, in order to stop and rest up at Tom's friend's Melissa's house. We were actually playing in Madrid, which is about 30-40 minutes south of Santa Fe. We arrived in the early afternoon (I drove the last leg), and I actually got my own room (only somewhat smelling of dog) to park my head for a few hours before cleaning up and heading to the gig. Melissa was certainly a gracious hostess.

My friend Jennifer drove up from Albuquerque for the show, and I'm glad we'd done all the meeting up legwork before getting to Madrid....as I had no phone service in Madrid. Madrid reminds a lot of Wimberley; it's a sort of "art town." Probably expensive as hell to live there. The show was one of the best of the tour. Enthusiastic crowd, etc. Meeting Tom's mom was a highlight. She's like the happy version of Tom. And Jennifer seemed to have a great time. That night was exceptional in all ways.

So, what do we do? Yes, another overnight drive. For good reason, though. Cody's sister, her husband, and two kids live in a nice house in Arvada, just northeast of Denver proper. They just moved into the house a couple of months prior, and it was a big one. We all had space to stretch out. There were five bathrooms in the house, but the one by my bedroom had living room access, so it became the popular one.

The Denver show was a pretty good one, although I expected more people on a Saturday. I wonder if perhaps Denver doesn't have much of a rock scene now....not sure. Old friends aplenty made it to this one, including my old room and band mate Clay Brown, Chris and Stella Hay, K.K. Felvy, and Sandra Calderon. Clay (his wife Aimee was in Austin) and Sandra had just moved to Denver recently. (Turned out Clay and Aimee lived in Arvada, where we'd been staying.) We were fed some good pizza by the venue, too. And, as the Hickoids are apparently unofficial spokesmen for Voodoo Doughnuts, there were two boxes of Voodoo Doughnuts waiting for us at the store across the street from the club. Now, that's rock star livin'!

After finally spending the night in a bed, we arose early the next morning for the trek to Salt Lake City. I should mention, especially as I drew a long part of this drive, westward through Wyoming, that the van's tires were clearly not balanced. Jeff had gotten new tires for the van before leaving, but something wasn't right. And as the battery hadn't been connected correctly, the tires being out of balance was not a huge shock, either. We were going to have get them balanced at some point, and they were clearly getting worse as we went. The shaking had been noticed all the way back on the way to Fort Worth. As I mentioned at the start of this blog, the tour was pretty smooth sailing overall, so you should already surmise nothing bad happened.

Anyway, we got to Salt Lake City, loaded into the venue, and checked into our hotel. I got an extra room for that night, just to have a little extra space. We didn't have a really long drive the next day, so I thought it'd be nice to have. Rice stayed with me that night. Generally, for each night, Jeff had booked two rooms for the six of us. My thought was, if we could stay until checkout time, I might get an extra room, provided it was affordable and available.

After resting a couple of hours, we headed back to the club. I noticed some folks in Juggalo make-up as we drove around town. Juggalos in Salt Lake City. Now I've seen everything. Turns out Insane Clown Posse was playing down the street from us....substantially "down the street." We were booked into a place called The Metro, which was a very nice place, but was also outfitted for about a 1,500 person capacity. We were in Salt Lake City on a Sunday night, so I think you know where this is going. The two other bands on the bill, despite being good bands, were just not right for our bill and didn't draw anyone outside of their girlfriends/wives. We had one "superfan" there (David) who bought merch, took pictures with us, etc. Smitty jumped down off the tall stage and attempted some mingling with the girlfriends/wives/other band members and David, so it wasn't all for naught. Still, we should have never been booked in that place. Also, we were under the impression that some metal festival was going on in SLC, and that this was the first day and a part of said festival. When I asked the sound person about this, he looked at me as if I told him I'd shot JFK. I always thought any festival beginning on Sunday would be suspect; my suspicions were confirmed. We were just in the wrong place.

We got a good night's sleep, though.

Monday morning it was off to Boise, Idaho. I'd never been to Boise before, and my only previous Idaho experience was a Honky show in Pocatello in 1997. Late afternoon, we arrived and checked into the hotel; this time I sprang for upgrades to one room, which gave Jeff, Rice, and myself lots of extra space in our room. When I saw the other room later, I almost felt bad for Cody, Tom, and Carl. Almost. I spent the evening downloading video to an external drive and getting ready for laundry the next day, etc. Rice, Cody, and Carl spent the evening at Jim's Alibi, one of the best bar names I've ever seen. And apparently Cody performed the second puke of the tour, in their hotel room, although I found out about this sometime later.

The next morning, Jeff fashioned an album mailer for me out of a box, and I mailed Chris and Stella Hay the Pocket FishRmen album I had brought for them...but left at Cody's sister's house before the Denver gig. Rice, Hungover Carl, and I went to the post office, and then went to the Walmart Auto Center to get the tires balanced. I was told to come back at 2:00. In the meantime, Jeff became Laundry Man No. 1. He folds nicely. Jeff returned to Walmart with me to get the tires balanced. I bought a decent plaidish "show shirt" at a neighboring Goodwill and then we headed back to the Center to get the van. The Center rep told me the van was ready, and so I headed outside, thinking the keys would be in the van. They were not, and I would have to go back in to get them....but while walking to the van, a mechanic of dubious merit ran in front of me with a torque wrench and hubcaps; I guess the van wasn't ready after all. He tightened all the lug nuts and pressed the hubcaps on the wheels, while occasionally flashing an inconsistently toothy grin at Jeff and me. We still lost one of the hubcaps before we got to Canada. Careful if you use Walmart's auto services. Maybe try elsewhere.

And so, by Tuesday night, we were ready to perform again, at the Shredder in Boise. While the attendance was better than SLC, and the other two bands much more to our liking, there was still a lack of audience energy in the building. Mantooth opened the show and was my favorite discovery of the entire tour. Fun, fun band. Great musicians, tight playing, and a made-up bewigged front man who "had it going on." Jeeziz, were they fun. They were followed by Jimmy Vegas and the Phobes, a well-rehearsed quartet with good tunes. I liked 'em but probably would have liked them more if the lead singer hadn't resembled Ted Cruz's even crazier brother. Really. I couldn't get that out of my head. Our set was decent, but it was probably one of the only times I've seen Smitty unable to motivate anyone in the audience. And not for a lack of trying. We might've been a bit sluggish; a day off will do that sometimes.

Next up, Canada! We headed to Vancouver the next morning, crossing into Canada east of Seattle, in an attempt to avoid a long line at the border. The immigration process didn't take too much time, despite a wait in the building while some officers went through a few things in our van's passenger area. Apparently, a look at the gear in the back convinced them that we were indeed just a low-rent band looking to play a couple of Canagigs. They let us pass.

We checked into the hotel in Vancouver and then headed to the gig at Pub 340. There's been a bar or pub in this location since 1898, according to the Pub 340 website. Great atmosphere, and a really friendly staff. Nearby is a park filled with junkies in tents and on benches. Apparently, Canada has a number of "tent cities" springing up.

A downside to the Pub 340 stage was the upstage part of the playing area had a wooden box (shelf?) hanging over it, which meant I had to be really careful when raising my arms while playing. I purposely set my cymbal stands a little lower to compensate and didn't have a problem. I didn't even bump my head on the lowered obstacle. Surprised me. A couple of acts played before us. Subverter, the first one, was pretty much straight up punk, with a singer who had "that attitude." A couple of times he snarled an apology for their set not being "country." I kept hoping he'd see us, just so he could see what we actually were. A couple of that band came back, but I think the singer left after they played. The second act was Skeeter and the Deets. Nice fellas and a good set of acoustic duo tunes. Our set was raucous and a winner all around. We debuted the "Canadian Medley" at this show, and I could not believe the reaction of the crowd. The youngish punks loved the Rush and BTO every bit as much as the Subhumans and D.O.A. Surreal! And the whole show was a great antidote to the two previous lackluster ones.

The next morning we got up to head to the ferry crossing to Vancouver Island and our destination, Victoria. The ferry ride would be approximately 1 1/2 hours and was a nice respite from being cooped up in a van all day. The ferry had some nice conveniences - food, etc. - which we took part in. It was also a nice day and pleasant to be outside in a deck area. Most of us remembered the ferry ride to Denmark from Germany in 2013....that was a cold one.

But back to pleasant weather. The venue in Victoria, The V Lounge, was adjacent to our hotel. And it looked a bit, as many of us noted, liked Caesar's Palace Lite. Columns lined the back of the stage. This was one big hotel bar. And the show was great. The Jaks folks know how to put on a party. Their band, the Keg Killers, was awesome and in a bit of a different configuration than the one we played with in San Marcos a couple of months back (might've been a different band, really....I'm a bit foggy on the details). Dustin, who had been the drummer in the San Marcos show band was the singer here. He's equally fantastic at both. Our set went off well once again, and the crowd really dug our second performance of the "Masters of Canada" medley. Joe Newman, who has recorded as the Rudy Schwartz Project for decades now made it to the show. I've been a fan of Joe's for 30+ years, and it was good to see and talk with him. For some reason, I thought he lived in Vancouver and thought about him when we were there...and then he turns up in Victoria! Just an all around great night. And it was especially nice to walk back to the hotel. That happens every so often, but not often enough for this old man.

The next morning, we said goodbye to Carl, who lives in Victoria now and was staying behind. And then, we were back on the ferry, albeit a different ferry - this one went directly into Washington and was a shorter trek. Immigration was less of a hassle getting back into the States (which actually surprised us a bit - but then the official was from Laredo...and we had our Texas plates). What took an infuriating amount of time was getting to the hotel in south Seattle. It was Friday afternoon; I probably don't need to write more. After getting checked in (after one false motel stop), we hurried to Slim's Last Chance to get ready to rock once again. I saw many friends there, including Stig Stench, Kristen Lyon, and of course, the one and only Max Brody. Max helped us out by filming our show once again. Max now works for Something Weird video. I envy him.

Joining us in Seattle was Patrick Pena, otherwise known as Harvey McLaughlin, playing piano and shooting video of us. His job was to be Carl, but a Carl who was a pianist. Patrick was texting me as he was getting to the club - after his flight landed, as he had some Uber problems, and finally when he was almost to the club....which was right as we began our set. He ran onstage after our first song (Jeff had already set up his equipment), and he began tinkling along with us. Patrick, of course, was along for the rest of the tour, and I always enjoy his company.

I had a fairly major problem with the outdoor stage at Slim's (Rice seemed to think I had this problem last time, too, but I'm fuzzy on it) - the stage is about as bouncy as they come. That's a particular problem for a drummer, when you need your equipment somewhat stable on the stage. And with the Hickoids, it's really a problem on what I call "stomp songs." Some of our songs are ones where the kick drum is stomping on one-and-three, or even every beat. The bear song here was "Petticoat Junction," which is just a fast train beat, with the kick stomping on every beat. The snare drum was wobbling all over the place, and I quickly got off track with almost no way of getting back on. I already tend to have problems with the train beat anyway, as I'm not very comfortable with country music (shh...don't tell anybody). I envy some drummers (Gary [Jimmy Ned] of the Beaumonts comes to mind) who just slip in and out of that beat easily. Not me. I have to stay right on it, or else, I might just as well break into a solo.  Other than that song, though, the rest of the set went well; I think overall we did fine. We were sandwiched in between a couple of bands and The Accused; the whole night was a successful night crowd-wise.

After the show, we headed toward the hotel's direction for some food, and the night turned interesting quickly. We stopped at a Denny's, walked in after seeing some club kids and hookers outside, and were met with the sight of a young man talking to himself and darting back and forth in the waiting area, drumming on a picture frame for a bit, mumbling, etc. We noticed pants on the floor and a "mystery fluid." After a couple of minutes, we thought somewhere else might be better. So we took off for another late-night place and had better luck there, although a hooker from our first stop walked in and made her way to the bathroom while we were there. I hope she had a good night.

The next day, we had two shows in Portland: one outside of the second Portland Voodoo Doughnuts location, and a night show at Dante's. The Voodoo show was slated for 4:00. And was. It. Hot. Damn. The playing area was covered by a canopy, but other than that, blazing sun.

As I was unpacking my drums, I made an unfortunate discovery. My front kick head was pretty much destroyed. This is the "Slowpoke" head I've had on the Hickoids set's kick drum for the last six years or so. Granted, I'd been thinking about replacing the kick head with something else for awhile now, but this wasn't the time to have to make the change. I mean, it was destroyed, not just cracked or torn. It looked to me like something had been dropped on the kick drum. (A certain someone told me he thought this was the case, but no one from the band confessed to anything.) The left-middle of the head was sliced from top to bottom, and the bottom, for about a third of the total circumference, was separated from the rim. I could not patch this up. As I had to get set up as well, Jeff volunteered to go with someone at the show who said there was a music store nearby and grab a new head. Turned out it wasn't the right kind of store, but they had a 22" pedal-side head they gave Jeff. I thought I'd have to use that, but a guy whose band had just played before us offered me his front head. He even started taking it off before I could answer. It was a nice Pearl head and served the rest of the tour. He's my Portland Angel, you might say. I still slipped him some money, even though he complained.

The set was okay, although there were audio problems...lack of monitors, etc. Typical outdoors show. Still a lot of fun. And we got doughnuts!! Tres really has a thing for us. Crazy guy. He needs help.

I headed to the hotel I'd gotten for.....drum roll, please....Michelle and me! Yes, she was coming into town for the show and hanging out a couple more days with Jessie Sundvall and Janet Hammer. The hotel was not quite a mile from the place we were playing and seemed suited for anything Michelle might want to do while she was there. It was a nice, big room in an older hotel. Michelle got in about 8:30 and we Ubered over to Dante's later on.

We ended up just eating pizza at the club and just hanging there for the duration. Janet and Jessie showed up later, as did a couple of other folks Michelle knew. The show itself was just okay. There were some people there, but they were spread across the club; it's a pretty large place. Michelle opined that Portland might be a "younger place." That's probably true. My memory of the night is colored by her being there anyway, so I had a good time. There were band shenanigans after I was gone, but obviously, I can't comment on them, other than I got an earful.

The next day, I bid my lovely wife adieu, and the band headed to Bend, which was south and to the east a few hours. We stopped at Indian Head Casino (of course) along the way, and I picked up a t-shirt for my mom in a crafts store nearby. She digs the Native American-flavored stuff. I had booked a motel room tin Bend at Jeff's request, as lodging was being arranged by a member of the other band....who was Jeff's girlfriend's cousin. Jeff wasn't sure how much room there'd be. And that turned out to be a good call. The room wasn't even $100 and the motel looked to be an old Motel 6 completely redecorated with a solid Indian vibe. I dug the way the room looked. Patrick quickly jumped to room with me, so he and I stayed there. But, the show.....was surprisingly good. And it was a Sunday. There were a decent number of folks there, many being friends of the opening band.

Another equipment note: the previous night in Portland, I had been dismissed before load-out. I had packed everything up and had it together and ready. Somehow, my fan did not make it into the van. I like having a fan. So, we found a van backstage that I brought up to use. And I would need to buy something else before the SF gig. A slight annoyance, but I can't complain much as I wasn't there for that load-out. The broken kick head still had me steamed, frankly.

Monday morning, we began the trek to San Francisco. Keep in mind, this is during fire season, and one of the worst fire seasons the western part of the States has had. Much to our ultimate surprise, we didn't see much fire....I remember a small one in the distance at one point, but I don't remember exactly where it was. We did see more burned trees and some lingering smoke, but that was it. So, the drive to San Francisco ended up being much less eventful than I thought it might be. We pulled into the city around 9:00 and checked into our rooms. I bought one more room for some added comfort, even at SF prices. Not cheap, by any means. Still, we had some room, and we were near the Marina. And we were going to be there for a bit. We ate at Mel's Drive-In that night, which is not a drive-in but a diner. Still, it's fun to say you ate at Mel's. Gettin' all Tayback and shit. And later that night, I walked to the Walgreen's near us. Boom, clip-on fan for $7.50. That would last the tour, for sure.

The next morning I got my laundry to a nearby laundromat for some Wash and Fold service. Even put my ever-stinkening jacket in for a dry clean. While waiting, I took a walk into the Presidio, a place I used to go with my dad back in the early 70s. The Officers' Clubs were there, so we would stay there when visiting the city. It was interesting to see it now, and I took a special trek to the Yoda Fountain I saw on Atlas Obscura. After getting back to the room (I was rooming with Patrick), I told him about the fountain, and he was intrigued enough to make his own way there. Late in the afternoon, while hanging with Rice (and hurting), he made a comment about getting a massage, which is something I hadn't thought of. Phone out....booked one at a Thai massage place for the next hour. That was an experience. It's the type massage where someone holds onto suspended poles above you and steps on different parts of you. It was also something I needed after too much time sitting in a cramped van. My knee was really stiffening badly. The masseur, despite barely knowing any English and not really understanding my jabber, caught on quickly to what was going on with me. After the massage was over, he suggested a lot of maintenance work that my own physical therapist in Austin has been suggesting. Didn't take him long!

In the evening, it was off to the gig at the Elbo Room. We were playing with Sluggo Cawley's new project, Req'd, and our friend Bobby's band Bellyfruit. It was a Tuesday night, so I wasn't sure what to expect, but the night turned out pretty great. The crew ran everything really professionally, so there were no shrugging shoulders when you needed some help. "Professionally".....yes, I just wrote that word. Jello Biafra even showed up and stayed through our set. It was kind of funny to see him wearily sitting down near stage right by the end of our set as I thought, "yeah, we're all getting up there." The other Grannies made it to the show, and it was fun catching up with them. I can't really remember if we had any late night food. Our nice parking place in the center of the hotel parking lot was gone, so the van had to be parked on the street with someone checking on it periodically. I can't say that the hotel was especially accommodating to us band folk, but it WAS a Super 8. I had gotten charged three times for my room but got that all worked out in the end. Ugh. Still, I call San Francisco a success.

Wednesday, we began driving down Highway 1 (or PCH) to Santa Cruz. It's a nice drive I hadn't been on in years, and we stopped at one point to get out, walk down to the beach, and snap some nice shots. We got to Santa Cruz by early afternoon and checked into our rooms. We were a short walk from the Santa Cruz Beach & Boardwalk, and so Rice, Patrick and I headed down there. Someone (me, maybe?) acted like a kid all over again. I rode the Great Dipper roller coaster four times. Tom joined us, and he got in on the roller coaster action, too....which surprised me a bit! It had been many years since visiting there. When my dad had his sailboat, we would sail from Monterey to Santa Cruz. As a kid, it seemed like an interminably long trip, but when I'd see the roller coaster in the distance, I'd know we were almost there. Ah, memories. Like the corners of my mind.

And later, it was off to the club (how many times have I written that sentence now?). We played the Blue Lagoon, which seemed a misleading name. It was an interesting maze of a place, and right next to it was a record/CD/DVD store that was actually open a little later. I picked up the only two discs of the trip that night, a copy of the limited edition of "Demon Wind" and the 4 Film Favorites version of the Batman movies from the 80s/90s. Met my price point, finally. The show itself was okay. Fang played before us, and their set was good, but I suspect they were going through the motions a bit. Didn't seem as intense as when we played with them in San Antonio earlier this year. Our set was pretty good, not a great crowd, but okay for a Wednesday. There was a giant fan built into the wall behind me, sort of an exhaust fan in reverse. And it was loud. Made it a little difficult to hear what was going on, but not that difficult. And I like staying cool.

The next morning, we bid Santa Cruz adieu and headed south to Ventura. In all my California years, I don't believe I'd ever been there. We checked into a somewhat sleazy Motel 6 there and headed to the night's rock residence, the Red Cove. A funky place, for sure. Nice folks working there, but the set up was strange. The stage was really deep, which swallowed a lot of the sound. And the stage was a bit "soft," let's say. Everything sounded strange to me on stage, and it was one of my lesser moments playing. Just didn't have a good show. I think the others might have liked it more than I did. And...at the end of the night...we got stiffed. Or at least, the bar people on duty had nothing to pay us with. I was outside, jawing with Patrick while all this was going on, but there was something about the vibe of the place that....well, let's just say I wasn't terribly surprised. Jeff was going to have to go there the next morning and try to get paid. Hoo boy. And the night ended with a late night McDonald's run with a very drunk Cody mouthing off continually in the passenger seat. By the time we got back to the motel, I took my food (sic) and headed off to the opposite end of the motel to eat in peace. One thing I've started to learn more (finally, in my fifties!) is that it's better to just excuse yourself and find a corner to go to than start a bunch of shit with an otherwise likable bandmate.

Off to Los Angeles the next day. Jeff had booked rooms at a Ramada there, and I swear, it took us almost an hour to check in. There was new, fumbling, management and an upset guest in the lobby. I thought we'd never get our rooms. But we did, and then off we went, as you do (or used to, anyway), to Hollywood. As with most other cities in the U.S. of A., Hollywood has become a sort of gentrified Disneyland. It was still fun to walk amongst the stars in the pavement, and we ate at Roscoe's Chicken 'n' Waffles. It's amazing to me how many silent stars are amongst the memorialized in the pavement. And how many of them I actually know of and have seen their work!

We headed to the club, Cafe Nela, which was toward the north a bit and was an older punk rock dive that felt a bit like....home. The stage manager had everything running smoothly, with each band setting their equipment in one of four numbered spots outside the main floor. I'd never seen that sort of organization for a smallish club before. Interesting. And helpful, ultimately. The only thing I can say I didn't like about the club was their lack of water, even for the bands. You had to pay for water. Right before we went on, Pat Todd brought us all bottles of water....not sure where he got them, and I hope he didn't pay for them. Pat and his band went on before us, and before them was the Golden Rulers, a band fronted by Dave Duet, and they rocked most ferociously. Brian Stack was the drummer, and it was a lot of fun catching up with him. The last time I saw him he was throwing chairs around a club in Houston at a Honky show and was ejected. It was good to see him more in control, and he had a nice wife in tow. Our set was pretty damned sweet. (Recent development: a torrent of our set was found and just might become a live album for us. We'll see.) As a matter of fact, I might go so far as to say it was the best overall show of the tour. Cody got drunk again.

We had a late night sup at a cool Mexican joint, with some added "after hours restaurant drama" to entertain us, and then bunked in. Long drive the next day to Tucson.

Tucson. I hadn't been or played there since 2001, and it looked quite a bit different, too. A very white, gentrified, downtown area, where we played at a place called Club Congress. We were supposed to be able to stay in the adjoining hotel, but it was booked for the night. The club contact had set up rooms for us at a Ramada Inn about a mile away. No problem, really. While the rest of the band ate dinner with Rich Minus' brother, I snuck away to check into the hotel and get a little "me" time. We were on the home stretch, but I needed a little solo medicine.

The show was.....okay. Once again, we played a place where everything was well organized. I was able to fully set up before leaving for the hotel. The opening band, the Pork Torta, set up in front of us. Very entertaining band. Three-piece, with the drummer setting up in the middle, and singing the majority of the tunes. I dug 'em. Our set was all right, but a bit of a let down from the night before (as it would be, of course). Still, I thought we pulled it off well. Immediately after we finished (at 10:00!), a DJ began setting up to play dance music for the rest of the night.  We hung around the downtown area for a bit before heading back to the hotel. Strange time. It was sort of like a big dance club party outside the club itself. Live music is definitely dying out in some towns. And Cody became insufferably drunk again.

We had another long drive the next day, to Marfa, so we headed out reasonably early. At some point in the trip (I don't remember where), we stopped at a casino (surprise!), and I had a truly excellent pizza there. Biggest food surprise of the tour. The waiter had recommended the steak and avocado sandwich special to everyone, and most got it. I opted for the pizza, and while the others only gave their sandwich an "okay" at best, well, I was in a bit of pizza heaven. I don't say (or write) that often.

We pulled into Marfa and had to start setting up quickly. It was a Sunday, but there were folks there waiting for a show. And we put one on. It was a strange set, and definitely not one of my best, but we entertained everyone, and that's the goal, right? I clammed something on PM, that, well, I'll just say, I hope I never do that one again. It's the type of thing I sometimes do when I'm tired, I'll put it that way. Ha! Good to see Jeffro, as always, and Todd and Bonnie Kassens happened to be there as well.

It seemed to take forever to get out of the club and on the road. And I have to admit, I was obsessed with watching the final episode of "Sharp Objects," which I did. On my phone, with an HBO app. Sad. But I enjoyed it! The drive back was pretty smooth. When we got back, Jeff asked me if we could just go to my house, and I'd take Rice home. I agreed it was best, although that meant 8:00 in the morning on a Monday, driving into Austin. I took the toll road and got back home within an hour.

That was the tour. No breakdowns (after the first day, anyway). Most of the shows were great; the only real duds were the Sunday/Tuesday of the first week. My leg cooperated more or less, although I have more ideas for the next van tour we'll do, assuming we do one. Once I got back on the exercise bike at home, I was fine after a couple of days. Damn knee. Well, I'll deal with it. And now I have a lot of video to catalog.