I think I left off with the Greyhound…
I finally got off of the bus in San Francisco, where I met up with Marshall and Nona to play Dark Dark Dark shows up the West Coast.
San Francisco: Surfing (not me…holding out for warmer waters), climbing hills, and a super fun house show with Ghost Family, Covena Turpentine, Leyna, and Broadway the band.
Eugene: Long long drive. Tiny Tavern. 5 people. The mechanical bull finale of Urban Cowboy was playing on the television. Chickens and ducks in the backyard=fresh eggs for breakfast (thanks Lydia).
Portland: My sister and I got our nails done together. We played an unexpectedly fun show at the Know (bar) that included wheeling my bass around the bar in a pram (baby carriage).
Olympia: Relationship drama (not mine, not the band’s). Catching up with old friends and old chairs.
Seattle: Scribble Squat was a magical place to play. There were candle chandeliers and honey cake and kids dangling their legs from half-burnt ceiling beams. The police started banging down the door halfway through and we played a few more songs. Afterwards people went outside and talked to them and the most memorable part of the conversation (as it was relayed to me) was:
Cops: We’re just trying to be cool here.
Kids: (reassuring) You’re being cool! You’re being cool!
Cops: We know you hate us.
Kids: No! We don’t hate you! Why would we hate you?
Cops: Yeah…people told us that you hate us.
San Juan Island: The ferry was f’in expensive. We busked in attempt recoup. Our friends Juniper and Sean put us up at the lovely Juniper Lane Guesthouse. We swam in the freezing ocean that was framed by forest and driftwood lagoons.
Seattle:
My flight back to New York was canceled. There was an ice storm. And I only had 24 hours to get back there in order to make my flight to Costa Rica the next day.
to be continued…
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