mewsing

Evan and I have stripped to our boxers, and Jamie is the only one still fully clothed. We’ve all created miniature sweat swamps in our respective seating arrangements thanks to a combination of a faulty A/C unit and a sweltering heat. We’re down twelve water bottles; we have about five more hours to Buffalo. We now take rest stops at least every hour to give the engine a break. The Catskills + Funkwagen + 1000 lbs of equipment = Trouble.

As it turns out I’ve been living off of pizza and honey nut cheerios. I don’t think Andy would be living anymore without his mulit-vitamins. Too bad he ran out . . .

Last night at the Tudor Lounge we played another really sweet show. The venue was pretty small which was fun . . . and really loud. A lot of people stood outside to listen. There was a great juxtaposition between the crowd that the band before us (Purple Monkey Dishwasher) brought, and the regulars at the club. There were also a lot of people that Jamie affectionately calls “hippies,” mainly because they had dreds, piercings, danced a lot, and smoked marijuana on the sidewalk directly outside the door. “It’s Buffalo, what else are you going to do?”

These “hippies” absolutely loved our Funkwagen. In fact, we had difficulty leaving because they kept coming inside to check her out and pay her compliments. I guess they really liked our music too? One guy literally told me he was inspired, and asked if he could come with us (Of course I said yes, but I think he has a day job holding him back). I found that to be a great compliment, because inspiring people is indeed one of our goals as a band and in life in general. When did you last feel inspi(red)?

And in other van news, we almost ran out of gas for the first time, which let me tell you, is a thrilling experience. I was meditating at the time but apparently this is how it went down: We leave the bar and pass two gas stations that are closed. We’re on empty. We get on the highway and get off at the first sign of a gas station. It is also closed. WTF. We continue to drive. Everyone is getting nervous and Jamie is freaking out. Ten minutes, nothing. Fifteen minutes, no sign of fuel. Twenty minutes, the engine starts “pinging” and Funkwagen shudders like a man with hypothermia. She’s giving it all she’s got but she doesn’t have much left.

Two minutes later, we hurtle haphazardly through the exit coast into a gas station, finally stopping at an odd angle next to the pump, just moments before disaster.



New Photohunt high score: 485,000 (at Kenny’s Castaways?)