The showers aren’t really working anymore and I’ve been wearing the same pants so long they’re starting to feel stiff. We all have. Even when I do shower, I put on clothes that are either on their second to third wear or have been stuffed into a suitcase next to clothes that have been maxed out. The energy drinks and coffee stopped working a week ago and our patience wore off a couple days before that. Despite everything we’ve been through for the last three weeks, it’s a strange feeling knowing this is the last show on the tour. I love that Colorado sells liquor on Sundays now because I hear that Salt Lake City
Once again, the silent hero of Boldtype hooks it up and we have a hotel room waiting for us in SLC courtesy of Ron Vargas and family. Thank you guys. It is amazing. More pleasant than the room itself is that Ron told the front desk guy that the man checking in today is a georgous fellow that looks like Mel Gibson, but goes by Ed. Ed Mel Gibson’s his way through check in and gets us a room with a view up on the top floor. There’s some irony in being in a nice hotel looking out over the city and eating ramen noodles.
We call the Guttermouth guys to meet up and have one last dinner before the show. An interesting thing about SLC is that everything is closed on Sundays except Mexican restaurants and Burt’s Tiki Lounge. After much debate, we decide on Mexican food. Ed’s cousin meets us and Mike and I ride with them, the rest of the guys follow in Guttermouth’s van. The ride takes us all through town in search of a specific place. One Ed is entertaining, but you put two of them in a compact car and things take a trip to crazy town. We finally find the place we’re looking for and it’s packed. We don’t have time to wait so we check our options. We look around and go to the one place no one is at. Gamble time. The food is good enough but we’re all keeping tabs on the nearest bathrooms for the rest of the night. I guess that’s why they don’t call it “the walks”. Anyway, we get back to the venue a little late as the first band is playing. I like Burt’s Tiki Lounge a lot. It is a tiny place. I mean real tiny. Max capacity is 49. Apparently they didn’t get the memo though because there is well over a hundred by the time we take the stage. Manny has to set up his drums outside and carry them in right before we play. We pull the crowd in quick and mayhem ensues. A mosh pit breaks out and I feel like the walls are going to fall down at any second. It starts in our second song and doesn’t end until our last note. What an awesome way to go out. Thanks SLC.
After the show it’s on for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, we made it through, broken, bruised and limping, we made it through without missing a show, without killing each other and without regret. Well…up to that point anyway. Regret was just around the corner. We drank Burt’s dry. Like literally, they ran out of every kind of alcohol in the place. The bartenders are grabbing whatever they have after the show. Even before Guttermouth, it was just Jager and wine. After it was just wine and beer. The bartender offers us up some white wine that they have left. Me, Jeff Mike and Matt from Guttermouth take a swig. Jeff takes the whole glass down the hatch. Hmm. That wine tastes like piss, but it’s cold. Kind of vermouthy. You know what? I’ll just get to the point. It’s piss. Mark’s piss we think. He had pissed in a bottle upstairs and somehow the bartenders mistook it as a bottle of wine and chilled it. I’m not making this up. This happened. He didn’t mean it to and now we have a weird unintentional “water-game” bond together. Now let’s not type of this again.
After piss-gate, we head back to Guttermouth’s hotel for some drinks and some goodbyes. In the truck ride over, Mike gets into some baby powder and powder bombs the back seat. I’m able to turn away as is Manny. Drew and Dew are not so lucky. This is just not Jeff’s night. He gets it right in the eye hole. Several eyewashes and whiskey shots later, he recovers and calls it a night. We head up to the Guttermouth room, covered in powder. The front desk lady looks at us like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or call the police. We must look like a mime gang. We drink and talk with the guys like we’ve been friends for years and I hope it stays that way for years to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment