Day 21 – Grand Drunk-Shun

Drew is the Continental King.  He’s figured out how to wake up minutes before the free continental breakfasts end and loot them for the rest of us.  I’m into that big time, but the last couple of days, it has slipped away from him.  He may soon be demoted to Continental Prince.  That’s alright though, I haven’t made it up for the breakfast once which probably makes me the Continental Jester.  Today we hit the road for Grand Junction. Two more shows.  We’re all surprised and humbled by a post Mark put up on Guttermouth’s Facebook page about us.  Up to that point, the nicest thing he said to us was “Boldtype?  Fuck those guys…Nah just kidding”.  Weirdly we all took that as a compliment. 

So back to the road, we pull in to “G-Junct” as I like to call it and price out some hotels.  Mike an Ed hit the phones like telemarketers and dial up every hotel in town.  We find a nice little number complete with a continental breakfast we won’t see and a cuze.  Hell yes.  I need a cuze in the worst way.  Now…hmm….alright I guess I can share this.  Ed has saved our lives in every single way on this tour (although as I type this, I am freaking out as he bonus-lane’s a bus down a two-lane highway) and today he ices the cake for me.  I left my swimming trunks (or in Boldtype language “short-set”) back in Denver.  My whole body is jacked up, as is all of ours.  The Ed Sled comes complete with multiple short sets and he offers some up to me.  The kicker is that at this point, they’ve all seen some water action.  I have a tough decision to make.  My boys and his boys playing in the same park?  Well, beggars can’t be choosers.  I roll the dice, grab the shorts and schedule a check up for when I get back home.  Mike has become a cuze aficionado.  He has a great rating system (of two star hotels and below) based on two key factors.  One is if they actually work and make bubbles and two is if the temperature gets above luke-warm.  Today’s meets both requirements, although it sounds like this soak machine is powered by a lawn mower.  Oh well, it helps none the less.  After the cuze and a short nap, it’s off to the Rocky Mountain Pub. 

We get to the venue and are super grateful that the load in is stair-free.  There are about 5 people that are already in there that are shit faced and as they leave (they’re not into that punk shit) I swear to God one of them says “Yep.  I’m the designated drunk driver tonight”.  I make a note to have what they’re having.  The security guard lets us know he’s been shot from the apartment complex next door.  I make a second note to NOT have what he’s having.  We get fed from the venue and I have to give it to RMP, your cheeseburger skills are off the charts.  Trust me. We’ve had them for 21 days and they are excellent here.  The doors open and Jeff’s freak-out meter rises slightly when we notice the door guys have gloves on and are frisking people coming through the doors.  It takes another jump when we see the security nailing down a wood cover onto the pool tables.  Literally hammer and nailing that shit in.  He’s one chain-link-fence-around-the-stage away from total freak-out.  No worries though, he just needs a cool down shower and he’ll be back in the game. 

Once the show starts, I hit the merch booth and catch the first two bands.  They are both good and we all enjoyed them.  Also, it’s cool to see so many Denver band stickers up here.  Grand Junction treats Denver bands well.  One thing that is different about this show is that there are more people around the bar than the bands.  Any of them, including us.  We get up there and play a great set.  We actually get a fairly good draw of people up to see us when we start, but apparently they kept getting in fights and getting kicked out.  By the halfway point, it seemed like our crowd had dwindled down or just made it back to the bar.  Also in the second song, Jeff goes on a tear.  Not just his guitar playing, his calf too.  After the show he’s down to one leg which is great news for his famed pirate impression, but bad for his rock career.  After the set, we scatter to our post show positions.  Before hitting the merch booth, my curiosity gets the better of me at the bar.  They have these really cheap shots called “Black Eye Kamikazees”.  Just a fair warning, don’t say that too fast when you order it from the bar keep.  Another fair warning, you get what you pay for.  They don’t taste great, but the price is right and I can’t pass up a deal.  Unfortunately, I am still paying the price the next day.  Meanwhile, Mike goes outside for a smoke.  A cop pulls up, gets out of his car and walks up to the venue.  He forgets to put his car in park though and the cop car starts repeatedly running forward into the wall of the venue!  Man, I couldn’t write something that funny.  That is just priceless.  I don’t know why he was there, or what happened next.  I laughed so hard when Mike told me the story that I forgot to find out the rest. 

Post post show, we load up and Jeff and I get dropped off at the hotel. Those drinks caught up to me fast and I need to pass out or throw up and rally.  I choose the safe route and help Jeff and his bum wheel in to the hotel room.  The rest of the guys hit Guttermouth’s hotel room to finish what they started with their foe Evan Williams.  Mike gets a razor from Dave and shave’s his mowhawk into some kind of eastern traditional monk-hawk.  Then they bail and hit a party at the promoters house.  The party was confined to a quarter of a garage, stacked with people and beers wall to wall. The theme here was tightness.  Like Sardine tightness. So tight the beer cases doubled as furniture.  The Ed-Sled maintained while the rest partied, but Ed was not without his one liners.  As a girl tries to squeeze by, the sled quips “Hey! It’s pretty tight in here huh?”  He’s part Wikipedia, part merch master, but all heart…