Monday, August 12, 2002
Queens, NY

We're back at home. The cat was as angry at us for leaving as he was confused about our presence, especially since I'd spent so much time explaining to him that we'd be gone for over a week.

We got up at the Dirtfarm yesterday morning, cleaned ourselves off as best as you could as a place called the Dirtfarm, and headed out to a diner for breakfast. I ate prodigiously while Thad, having not slept much more than half hour the night before, barely got down two slices of french toast, looking green as he did it. We headed over to Baltimore to hang out and await the evening's show.

Let's talk about that show for a second. A while ago, I had gotten an e-mail from this guy, let's call him - oh - Dave is a good name for him. So Dave says that he's happy to help out in any way that he can. Some back and forth e-mails, I send him a promo pack, and he agrees to set up a show for Sunday the 11th. We'll take whatever money he can give us. About 5 days ago, I got a final e-mail from him saying that the show was not going to be as big an affair as he planned due to a few other bands canceling, but it would happen. Great. "It's either going to be at the Blood Shed or at the Food Not Bombs house. I'll e-mail you the directions. Show should start at 6." Okay.

I'll make a long story short by skipping to the end of it. It involves us in a gas station, unable to find the Blood Shed and leaving our third message of the day on their answering machine. "If you see Dave, tell him to come up to New York City and plan on us accommodating him. We'd like to return the favor."

The show didn't happen, and that's not a big deal, as things fall through. The fact that we wasted a night when we might have been able to pull together another show, and most importantly that HE NEVER TOLD US THAT THERE WAS NO SHOW was not good.

Incidentally, I made two calls to the Food Not Bombs house to find out if the show was there. The second time, I reached a guy who said that he was in one of the bands that was supposed to play. This was funny: "I spoke to Dave, and he said that he had gotten in touch with you guys, and that you were going to just hang out with him for the night and everything's cool." Uh, no. The first phone call was even funnier. I will give you the transcript.

Food Not Bombs phone answerer: (In a voice that sounded like Igor from Frankenstein): Yyyyeeeeeeeesssssss???
Me: Uh, is this Food Not Bombs?
FNBPA: (Same voice) OOOOH Yyyyeseeessssss.
Me: Hey, is there a show going on there tonight?
FNBPA: Nnnnnnnoooooooooooooo.
Me: Okay. Good bye.

We pulled a council of war and decided that we'd head back up to NYC for the night and sleep, clean up and hit the road in the afternoon. The drive back was uneventful, and had us all in bed by 3AM. We tried to sleep in to prepare for the long haul tonight, which should be crazy. Right now Matt, Jill and I are waiting for Thad and Abby to arrive, and we'll head out of this crazy place. Tonight is Brass City Records in CT. One of the bands has been described to me as "Prog Metal" I hope that doesn't mean that they sound like Dream Theatre, 'cuz I don't think that their friends will like us. At all.

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