Saturday July 4: Seattle, WA to Bozeman, MT
Driving day.
Valerie picked me up in the giant whie Suburban her grandmother rented for the band. It is gorgeous and powerful and totally not something bands tour in, particularly indie bands, since the mileage is so terrible. But beggars/choosers, etc.
I spent the past 5 days completely organizing everything I own, top to bottom, so when Valerie arrives I have this strange feeling of everything in my life being, for the moment, exactly where it needs to be. Not to sound macabre, but if I die on this tour, my stuff will at least be easy to sort through.
Apparently the first thing I said to Valerie was "she's not a dick, and that was a love bite." It was in response to her shouting "Ouch! You bit me, you little dick!" in my cat's face. We join Cristina and Meghan at Cristina's family homestead in Bellevue. Fortunately, there are several parents present to help us pack the gear. The combined wisdom makes for a semi-complicated endeavor, but eventually we snap a pic in front of the 'Burban and get on our way.
One of the first things we discuss is what to name the vehicle, as well as the tour itself. Cristina is keeping a list of several in-jokes that have proven worthy. We agree to wait until the right names present themselves. I'll try and post some candidates later on. In general we are all burbling with excitement about finally being underway, so there's a lot of conversation and joking, sharing of music and etc.
We stop in Ellensburg for lunch at Subway. I went to CWU in the 'Burg once upon a time, so it's vaguely interesting to be back on the edge of town. Oddly, while we're eating, my eyes begin to burn while we're sitting in there. Almost simultaneously the same thing happens to Valerie. Was someone chopping up a big ol onion? why was no one else in the place affected? The two of us had to step outside with tears streaming down our faces, pushing through what appeared to be an entire middle school swim team in the doorway. Weird.
We take like 3 rest stop breaks before we get to Spokane, which sounds like first-time touring band stuff, but give us a break; it's day one, Val has to pee a lot apparently, and there may or may not be people who want to smoke in this group.
For a part of the day we travel with the impression that there's a chance of a house party in Missoula when we get there. It's the 4th of July yo! Let's play! But it turns out to be more wishful thinking than anything else.
Meghan has a special connection to Missoula, since Racetrack played here frequently and had many friends here. Ironically, none of those friends are around this weekend, hence the lack of a show. We pull in looking for food, but are met with closed signs. We briefly contemplate breaking in to a sandwich shop, making dinner, and playing an extremely exclusive set of power pop for the cops, but adandon this plan once we realize I'm the only one thinking about it.
The band is meanwhile following their ears toward the sound of live music, which is emitting from the Union Labor Hall down the road from the Staggering Ox sandwich shoppe. This city is dead, there's lots of space for all the nothing going on, but here's a pack of a dozen or more flatironed teens loitering on the sidewalk. We thread through the crowd, talk up the door kids, to eventually find Dan, who is more or less running things. Val turns on the charm and sunny smile, but to no avail. No room on the bill, there's a time cutoff, they have no idea who we are, it's the 4th of July, etc etc. I'd like to think they have a douchey-bands-only policy, but I'm pretty sure that's just me being a jerk. They were nice, we gave it a try, it's a beautiful farking evening on a national holiday, let's go find something to eat.
So we did. We went to Taco John's. It was delicious. We drove into the twilight trying to decide how to spend the night, since we had no plan; pull off and camp? drive in shifts? Val had a friend who had a friend who lives in Bozeman that could put us up. Meghan pointed out that Racetrack, MT - the namesake for her old band - was going to be coming up soon, and we could try camping there.
The thing is, I am particular about sleep. If I'm going to sleep, I don't want to try and do it and fail because it's too noisy or hot or cold or exposed. So whatever we ended up doing mattered a lot to me...
First, we stop at an RV park that says it has camping, pulling in around 10pm. We meet a grumpy old man who seems more annoyed that we're there than pleased. We huddle up and decide to pass based on the fee, and he tells us not to come back. "I don't want to get out of bed again just because you're out traipsing around." I smile at him. A lot. He has a golf cart.
As we cruise through the dark we are treated to the sight of fireworks in the distance, in all directions. They're actually pretty good too, and considerign they are almost certainly just neighborhood efforts, I'm impressed. Plus it provides the feeling that we didn't miss out on
what is otherwise a reliably fun holiday back home.
Meghan stops the 'Burban in the middle of a long empty stretch, and promises Valerie $2 to dance across the road. Apparently this is a Tour Tradition. With hiphop a-bumpin' Val earned her keep, but mostly the whole thing was a good reminder that this is a bunch of weird, funny people.
We pull off in Racetrack, and are soon bouncing up a dirt road - something we couldn't do in a minivan. Just past our high beams is a lush, grassy hillside, when a pile of what appear to be boxes stacked in clusters appears ahead. We decide to investigate on foot. Oh good honey bees! Honey bees? Really? Where the hell are we? Valerie tells us she's allergic to bee stings - hornet stings really, but we agree to get out of there. Well, okay actually we just go down the hill a little. Valerie leaps out of the 'Burban with a sheet and a pillow, spreads them on top of the brush, and is almost immediately stung on her bare foot.
It's a honey bee, of course. It's pretty dark. This is starting to become a fiasco. Okay fuck this. Valerie assures us honey bee stings don't really affect her badly (plus she pulled the stinger out immediately), and we get back on the paved road. Meghan makes the astute observation that this is literally Day One and we already have tour stories to tell.
We end up at a rest stop in Anaconda, well lit and wide. NO CAMPING signs abound. The place is nearly deserted as we climb out to sit in the wind and decide if we really want to sleep here in the truck. As previously stated, given the choice I'd rather drive through the night and not waste time to trying to sleep if I'm just going to wake up grumpy. So instead, at 11 something, we agree to just go to Bozeman and stay with Valerie's friend's friend John.
Once that's settled we head to the bathroom, where Meghan makes a startling discovery:
She fits in the baby changing station on the back of the restroom door. Oh my God.
Right so anyways. John is straight edge, and a big quiet man. He has us meet him at the Loaf 'n Jugg down the street from his house, which is awesome. I'm sorry - several nouns are awesome in that sentence. The Loaf 'n Jugg makes me happy, because it is named the Loaf 'n Jugg. The fact that John lives in a house in Bozeman, and that it is clean and quiet and has couches is also awesome. We finally crash at 2am, all in a row.
I wrote these:
1
Ellensburg, first stop.
This is only beginning.
We are on tour dudes!
2
That is not water
on the road ahead. It is
not an oasis.
3
Goodbye, Washington.
Hello, goodbye Idaho.
The road will remain.
