Buckhead Atlanta October 2021
The car is in the shop a few miles away. The tire keeps going flat. The oil needs changing. When I’m gone, I want to make sure that Anna doesn’t get stuck, and four weeks is a long time for something to go wrong with that car. Anna left last night to shoot a video in New York this week, so I’m with Beau during a season of inexplicable sleep regression (he was up four times last night). The AT&T technician came to fix the internet, giving me 30 minutes to feed Beau and get his lunch ready. I was late dropping him off by ten minutes (today is Columbus/Indigenous People’s Day and he’s out of normal school), and his sitter for the morning was nowhere to be found. After I tracked her down, I drove to the dealership who said it would be three hours, so I Ubered to the mall looking for shoes. It’s been two years. My Red Wing Chelsea Boots were my companions from Prague to Melbourne to Mexico City (for shows 15-100 or so), but they’ve seen better days. One of the few expensive things that I would buy again in a heartbeat. Tour has changed my perception of what clothes are for. With fourteen people on a tour bus, things get stinky quickly. The opportunities to shower are fewer and farther between than they should be. As are chances to wash dirty clothes. So, clothes become kit; technology that makes your life easier or harder. This time around I’ve researched clothing that only needs to be aired out instead of washed. I’ve been on this experiment for a while to varying success. The clear winner is also the most expensive. Last week I wore a Marino Unbound black t shirt back to back every day to see how long until it needed washing. It was miraculous the first four days- no stink at all. After day six it needed a wash. T-shirts, socks, underwear- these need to be able to last. A good flannel shirt. Some sturdy denim- a leather jacket. These are staples for a reason. They hold up. Anyway, this is all in the back of my head as I suck down my second Kale Refresher. A portable massager for my broken shoulder. A mask that fits in a carrying case the size of a cigarette. A backpack that collapses into its own pocket for laundry day or early morning expeditions for coffee and daily pages. A dedicated Pelican case to hold my in ear monitors and my OPZ for vocal warm ups. It most certainly stems from a neurotic impulse to exercise too much control on a situation that feels bigger than me. Is it also because I enjoyed Q a little too much in the Bond films? It could’ve been my time hiking Ranier and the San Juan Mountains and The Grand Canyon in my early 20s. Weight is a killer- you learn early and often. Get the ultralight pack. Take out everything in it, and put only the most necessary back. Tour is kind of like that. I never check bags if I don’t absolutely have to, but the gear you bring is all you have of yourself. The entire environment changes every day. The only steady is the bunk, the faces of the people in the touring party, and the suitcase you brought (if it’s small, you can hide it in a compartment in the back lounge, which is way easier to access than the equipment truck where those who bring big suitcases have to store theirs). Anyway. The dealership just called. There’s a nail in the tire and they’re going to have to replace it. This gives me an hour to find some shoes- hopefully ones that will last another hundred shows (and all the steps required in between).