500 Miles Above Ground Pt. 1/"I could eat a whole Bag of those Sour Gummi Worms every day and feel Awesome"

Total distance driven (on this leg): 4690sm

Currently listening to: Wild Beasts – Two Dancers

So much has happened in the past two weeks that the thought of writing about it is possibly more daunting than finals. At the same time, I know that every word I click out on this laptop keyboard will interesting in its own right and most likely cause me to momentarily gaze off into the distance, admiring the jagged, earth-tone cliffs surrounding our present location en route to Denver as I recall the places and events I am describing. The fifteen or so days since we departed that sweet, flourishing flatland called Oklahoma City for the remaining four weeks of the tour have been some of the most interesting in all of my roughly 7,711 days alive (+/- a handful for leap years, [yes, I really just did that]). We have encountered temperatures from above 110 degrees Fahrenheit to the cool, 60 degrees that makes you realize you packed too light of a light jacket, border patrol checkpoints, high altitudes jogs, 80s punk listen-a-thons, lost and FedEx-ed wallets, sand dunes like those out of Aladin, the realization that Droid really is better than iPhone, high-rise living in the “City of Angels,” bicyclist barbecue parties, stunningly beautiful terrain from the reds and oranges of the Grand Canyon to deep harbors to the snow capped Mt. Rainier and, of course, more stretches of highway than anyone believed were real (via Eisenhower). I will do my best to build a vivid yet concise record of where we have been/eaten/slept/rocked out and what we have seen/felt/touched/heard/tasted (conciseness being the difficult [self imposed] rule to follow—I’d rather not bring tears to any eyes, including my own because of extravagant length, and anyway, I mean… well there I go again).

HERE WE GO—

My girlfriend, Elizabeth, was kind enough to construct this key visual aid, clearly outlining the various stops of the “Six Week National Tour” with a golden star over Oklahoma City because it is great and a question mark over Fargo because it is mysterious:

Amarillo: First show back after being home for the weekend, four weeks of tour remain. We played at a coffee shop called The 806, a spot I quite pessimistically assumed would not be too great. Wrong I was! We had a great show and played for a good crowd, set up on the floor of what turned out to be a very unique oasis within the dehydrated town. Sadly, we ran out of stickers (not good when four weeks of shows still lie ahead) but would later solve that problem in Los Angeles. The owner was kind enough to let us stay the night there as well. Wil and I awoke early the next morning as the opening shift clocked in—just the cue we needed to get up and go for a run. Running is always something we will try and do, for multiple reasons. Firstly, it’s great exercise and we tend to spend most of our time in a car, driving for hours. Accelerating the heart rate always feels great. Secondly, it provides a reason to get up early before it’s too hot and enjoy the town while you still can. We typically hit the road as soon as possible, so having a reason to get up a little earlier and move around is great. Lastly, it allows you to take in the local color as you move down the street, covering ground quickly and seeing more than if you just hung around the venue or even strolled a few blocks around it, something else I try to do every night. We hit the road for Albuquerque around 10am.

Albuquerque: The drive to Albuquerque, a city I will always associate with Bugs Bunny (not sure how many people will know what I’m talking about), was smooth with the exception of a heavy thunderstorm we punched through about three quarters into the drive. The ground was so fully cloaked in hailstones that thought I was looking at snow for about two full minutes. We took shelter under a carport just off the highway to protect the car and trailer and found ourselves back on the road in a short while. The town itself was quite cool and we had several hours to leisurely look about and work on press for the upcoming shows. It was here, too, that a few of us decided to take a bit more active approach to fighting the poor diet and long periods of sitting still that come with touring by doing a good regimen of pushups and crunches a day. Hopefully I’ll actually come home in better shape than when I left. The show was interesting—we played an art collective called Wunderkind Space Fort and were able to crash there afterwards. The following morning was lead by a stout, high-altitude and very hilly run to the University of New Mexico. I took the wheel for the drive south and off we went.

El Paso: This particular day being Thursday, we elected to stop at a Buffalo Wild Wings in Las Cruces for a wholesome batch of 60 cent boneless wings. We were running on a bowl of nutritious Ramen each so the Honey BBQ/Asian Zing wings were much desired. A carefully planned appeal to the manager of “we’re this band and we have very little money and we’re travelling and the only time we eat out is Thursdays at BWW . . . can we have free food” was grotesquely shot down so we had to resort to trading dollars for the meal. In a crude attempt at revenge we did pushups just outside the main entrance, trying to weird out incoming customers. El Paso welcomed us with open arms in the form of a city like none I have ever seen before, whose suburbs were in the likeness of some central american country’s that I have seen only in movies. It was clear that El Paso was, quite seriously, situated on the border with Mexico. The show was weak—despite playing a venue soon to be visited by Titus Andronicus, we had the lightest attendance of any show thus far and chose to skip town as soon as possible, not too sore about heading out of El Paso, Texas.

Phoenix: We were all looking forward to our stop in Phoenix where Wil’s parents live on a piece of property recently purchased by their employer. The 11 acre plot is a former country club called the “Lazy R/G Ranch,” complete with a basketball court, pool, baseball field and park. Needless to say, we could’ve chosen a worse location for three days off . . . a name like “R&R Ranch for Mobile Band Dudes” might be more appropriate.

My time there was incredible—I had the opportunity to visit the famous In-N-Out Burger for the first time, catch up on sleep, swim and brush up on the basketball skills. We actually did not have a show in Phoenix but rather the kickoff of the “vacation” portion of our trip. The upcoming weeks held a few more extended periods in several cities, which, having never been to many of them, we all were excited about.

Flagstaff: We did pull together a show in Flagstaff on Friday, the second and middle day of our time off in Phoenix. The two hour drive up north to this university, semi-hippie city was beautiful—outlined by rugged hills dotted limitlessly with saguaro cacti and deep, blue sky. The hills made the drive a bit longer with our weighed-down suburban/trailer/band mobile, often times reduced to chugging the inclines at 40 miles per with the air conditioner off so as to prevent the engine from straining too hard and overheating. This method of driving would later repeat itself numerous times as we trekked back and forth across the Rocky Mountains and hills of California.

Something awesome was slated to take place in New Mexico: we had, since booking the tour, planned on taking a day to visit a little known, American West secret some call the Grand Canyon. Flagstaff saw us to bed at the quintessential hippie house, the kind that you walk into and, catching waves of body odor (multiple kinds), patchouli, dirt, marijuana and other weird incense things I do not understand, immediately say to yourself, “dude this is the quintessential hippie house.” The kind of house where a pirate radio station is run from the third floor walk-in closet and people go by names like “Blackbird” and have thin tattoos of ivy winding from their lower legs to their feet. The kind of house that has a cat they proudly introduce as Franz something or other AKA Mr. Bojangles, causing an objective, outside man to sit and think to himself “I’m not sure this could be any more typical!” Nonetheless, they were nice people and we were more than grateful that they agreed to let us sleep on their floor. We took off the next morning for the Grand Canyon in great spirits; ‘excited’ is an understatement for how I felt about spending the day at such a famous, natural marvel. It was amazing!

Wait a second--where did I put those pictures of the real canyon...

San Diego: The drive to San Diego was a long and hot one and had us cruising parallel to the border with Mexico for quite some time. The few stops we made revealed to me yet another world within this country that I had never before seen—gas stations/shops like something out of “El Mariachi,” dusty corridors for local roads and hot, cloudless skies, advertising for Coca-Cola hand painted on cinderblock walls and lazy, yellow sand dunes in all directions.

We ran across several Border Patrol checkpoints as well. "You boys American citizens?" "Yes, sir we are. Nice German Shepherd!" "...Alright move along."

We pulled into town with a few spare hours so we did what we usually do--head to the venue, park the Burb and stroll around. Lucky for me, the venue was situated in a really cool part of town not one mile from the active approach end of San Diego International Airport. This meant that every twenty or so steps I took had me running into something as I had my eyes skyward, admiring the Boeings and Airbuses as the pilots grounded their massive airliners firmly in Southern California until completion of the turnaround and a new set of travelers noted the time of their departure.

The show went well and we hit the road that night for the three-hour hop to Los Angeles!

Los Angeles: I really have to work to keep this city entry in check, it would be far too easy to write several pages on what I did with my three days in LA. I was well beyond pumped to spend some time in the City of Angels because of the housing plans we had—our good friend and Mack’s roommate, Jones, was flying in to meet us (and travel with us for the remainder of the tour) and hang out while we stayed at his family’s 15^th story, oceanfront condominium in Santa Monica.

We had two shows over the course of three days and plenty of time to hang out. I spent as little time as possible sleeping, which was not necessarily the best move. Chances like this are often times devoted to “strategic sleeping,” they are a chance to make up for the many lost hours and weird schedules we’ve been keeping. Not this time! I was not about to turn my LA vacation into a slumber party.

I got up around 11 the first day, pretty early considering we got in just as the sun was beginning to peak through the haze resting above the skyline. I hastily threw on my bathing suit and rallied the bros—“check out this sweet ocean, dude…you in or what?” Zach had to stay behind and catch up on some composition work he’s doing for his girlfriend’s new album but Mack, Wil and I bolted to the elevator and made for the beach not a block away. It was a great outing, filled with attacking/punching/karate chopping waves and diving into them, also the exchange of numerous bro-fives because the experience was so rad:

I got a solid, oceanfront run in a bit later, along with some good swimming and reading time at the rooftop pool. It’s worth noting that I got a pretty hellish sunburn after eagerly embracing the California sun without sunscreen, despite warnings from my mother, girlfriend and pretty much everyone else (even my own conscience, having learned the hard way many times before . . . it was..uh.. a financial issue, okay[?]). The following days consisted of more or less the same activity. It did NOT get old. I got up at 8am the morning we were slated to leave town and absconded with free Starbucks from the condo on a walk around town, grabbing breakfast in some café and perusing the streets before they were overtaken with the bustling activity of whatever busy Santa Monicans do.

It was a beautiful day like all the rest, a cool breeze breaking through the mild air that lead to many windows being left open throughout the day, individuals opting to use the outside air in place of their conditioners, the sun offering a pleasant warmth only when one chose to walk into it. I returned to the condo and packed, hopping into the Burb with our two new companions—in addition to Jones was now our friend Kyle, both of whom would be with us for the remainder of the tour, helping roadie and just hanging out. Kyle had flown into LAX just a day before to meet us and off we now went, San Fran bound.

(P.S. the two shows we had in Los Angeles were not that good. They can serve as the perfect example of my previously mentioned “big city syndrome.”)

San Francisco: We made it to San Francisco, passing the bay, Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate Bridge as we headed to the venue in jackets, enjoying the 60 degree weather. Arriving there, we realized that one of the inevitable tour errors had occurred—there was some miscommunication and the venue “no longer had live music.” Here we were with a trailer full of guitars, ready to play for just about anybody and no show after all. After some failed attempts at hopping on other local bills, we found a busy street corner with some power outlets and decided to go for it. After unloading the trailer, we realized that the outlets did not actually work…time to pack up and accept the snake-bit stop in San Fran.

Not so! A kind woman walks up to us—“are you guys in a band?” She informed me of a barbecue/beer party going on not two blocks away at a bicycle shop. Off I went, sprinting the short distance and arriving at the outdoor party, which was completely full of those bicycles dudes and gals, you know the kind. They were really cool and the owner gave us the go-ahead to load in and play for the 30 or so people hanging out. I believe we set a band record for load-in speed that day, setting up and playing in probably under eight minutes. Not so snake-bit after all, San Francisco! We got all of two and a half songs in before the police rolled in and shut us down…so worth it! It was a lot of fun and I met some very cool people. We were all happy with the off-the-cuff evening and headed to bed at the apartment we had landed as a crash pad.

Eugene: I enthusiastically drove the nine hours from San Francisco to Eugene, Oregon and saw probably more beautiful scenery than ever before in my life. This was my great entry to the Pacific Northwest, a part of the country I have badly wanted to visit for many years.

We played a fun show at a place called Sam’s Garage. Arriving in the actual city of Eugene after dark and leaving immediately after the show for Portland (a move made because we had a place to stay in the only-two-hours-away northwest hub) left me without so much as a mental image of the college town outside of the venue and surrounding block. All the more reason to return someday!

Portland: This is will probably be my favorite stop of the entire tour when all is said and done. We had two full days in this particular city and I enjoyed myself to a degree rivaled by few things when travelling. Another record was set in Portland—four shows in one day. We came into that particular Saturday with two scheduled shows and managed to pick up two more. Here’s the tale:

An event called the Big Busk Festival was going on that day in downtown Portland (a very vibrant and active downtown, I might add) which had many musicians, mostly solo street performer types, doing just that—playing street corners for loosely scheduled periods of time and moving to another.

We were to play at 5pm and had about four hours to kill. With that kind of time, what do we do? Try to find/build a show. We did exactly that by walking into Mississippi Studios which we later learned is a staple venue of Portland, explaining ourselves, getting the all-clear and setting up on their beautiful, outdoor patio, well within earshot and eyeshot of that hip part of town. We played for an hour and a half, excitedly bringing in a total of around 100 people from off the street to listen. The venue rewarded us with some t-shirts and free beer for bringing them sales but we were mainly happy that people were so interested in our music. The show was a huge success and we got a lot of records into new hands. Hmm I forgot to mention that this was probably the most beautiful day I had ever experienced. What is it about the west coast climate that makes it so awesome? We met a guy in his early 30s named Chris who had been lured in by the tunes who asked us to play a party he was having that night at 7pm for a bit of cash. We gladly accepted and hurriedly packed up, taking off for the Big Busk.

This show was absolutely incredible. I had no idea what to expect as I rushed to ferry gear from the trailer to the street corner in front of a major department store amidst the tall, green trees and wide, clean streets. We set up in lightning speed and kicked off a 40 minute set, almost instantly attracting attention from passers by. By the time I looked up to give the “We are a band from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma called The Non…” spiel after the first song there were probably 40 people gathered in closely around us.

The number grew to at least 100 shortly following and we ended up with a fantastic, happy crowd of people from all walks of life enjoying the music and beautiful weather. A little Japanese girl walked up at the urgings of her father and stood in front of me as I played, her father taking an excited photograph of her with the loud street performers behind. The response from the audience was incredible. Everyone was enjoying themselves and I could not keep the surprised smile off my face for the entire set, beaming and enjoying each note I hit more than I had in a long time. We were amped. They were amped. It was pretty amazing. We tore down in a hurry and bolted over to Chris’ house for the party gig we had picked up.

Chris had us set up in a stone-floored open patch of his blooming, full backyard garden. We were treated to an excellent free meal of barbecue as we realized we were playing a yuppie baby shower and not just some “party.”

I was so excited that I had to close my eyes to hide it:

Everyone there was in their late twenties or early thirties, married with a very young child or married with a child visibly on the way. It was great! Everyone was super nice and excited to have a surprise band at the get-together. In between songs I gave some dialogue: “We’re so happy to be here, this is great, we just met Scott ‘it’s Chris!’ errr.. Chris this afternoon, this is so spur-the-moment, we have a real show later tonight ‘hey what do you mean a reeaal show?’ uhh I mean this is totally a real show…” I don’t think I’ve ever stuck my foot in my mouth more in my life than that evening! It all went great and we chugged out, quickly packing up for the third time that day to jet off to Mt. Tabor Theatre where the second originally booked show was about to go down.

There was some kind of crazy “Dark Alice in Wonderland Ball” going on in the theatre room of Mt. Tabor and the place was crawling with fun-loving people in the strangest, most detailed costumes you’ve ever seen. It made for an interesting night. We played the Lounge room with a seriously awesome duo called Wishyunu and, despite being nearly completely drained of energy from the day, played well.

We spent our stay with an incredibly nice family connected to Zach and Wil’s college who were insistent upon making us huge meals. They were awesome meals too. The house was the nicest place we’ve stayed on the entire trip, built of a very contemporary design and filled with dark wood and stone. That family’s hospitality is representative of the whole of Portland: every single person I met was nicer than the last. Something about Portland just seems to be …right.

We had a second show the follow day, Sunday. That makes five shows over two days! This was another especially interesting one because we played with a band called No Kind of Rider—the new name of our great, old Tulsa friends formerly known as Black Swan. They moved to Portland about two years ago and this was our first time to connect with them since. It was an awesome night; seeing those guys was something I had been looking forward to since we planned the tour.

Let me sum all of this up in one short, short sentence: Portland is incredible.

I have much more coming in the next few days, just need to get it all hammered out.

--Life on the line continues!