P&N tour wrap-up: Melvin becomes the avocado

I write to you now from a basement as old as your grandmother, and with similar smells. This is the magical, post-tour land known as Medical Records, where many a starving rock musician has traveled in pursuit of the fabled Paycheck upon returning from a musical crusade.

So I disappeared from Internet Writing Land during our stay at SXSW, where in all honestly I experienced my first bout of quite literally being too tired to write, think or, on particularly problematic days, even poop. And it was all amazing, with the logical caveat being that SXSW is a colossal clusterfuck and can't possibly be even remotely fun for the majority of people who live in Austin. But it was my first time and I got to play 3 day parties, plus after two of those shows we went crazy and drove to another city to play a nighttime show, so it was always an incredibly rewarding form of exhaustion. On one particular day we played a SXSW show at 3pm, packed immediately after the set and drove 6 hours south to McAllen, TX, where we played at the after party for a festival that Of Montreal headlined, and the people of McAllen were some of the world's greatest living humans.

The last week of tour got hot 'n sweaty, and unfortunately I was severely bummed to discover that the place we placed in Houston on 3/17 (called Fitzgerald's!) was labeling the show as a St. Patrick's Day party, yet DID NOT SERVE GUINNESS. No, I'm still not over it. Thankfully, later that night we crashed with lovely friends who had a real live domesticated pig named Orson, and they also wanted to burn a couch in a bonfire, so my spirits got quite a boost.

Let's see, after that we then enjoyed another hot tub, this one in Pensacola on a drive day to the Orlando show. Speaking of Orlando, we learned that certain locals enjoy wearing their hearts on their sleeves, angrily bawling when Miniature Tigers decide not to play certain older songs in their set. And then this person later decides to demand that the opening band's drummer (ie yours truly) find Miniature Tigers' manager so that she can express her "concern for the band's new direction."

Upon arriving in Atlanta the next day we realized that Orlando was probably going to be the last venue to be prepared and have the A/C on. I spent the last few days trying to soak everything in, wanting both to be back in my own bed and also tour forever. Between a hotel in North Carolina and my parents place in DC we had it pretty swell bed-and hospitality-wise; it was just enough luxury to convince myself that staying up after the Philly show and driving back to Boston was a good idea (it was).

Anyway, what a seriously ridiculous month. Time for my sappy but true closing: I don't think I can properly express how lucky I feel to have been able to travel the whole USofA playing drums. 15 year old me would have fainted out of pure joy, and 28 year old me came pretty close!