Monday, April 16, 2007

THE CREW

First let me begin this installment by saying that I may have totally contradicted myself in my last writing. I made a big deal about how silly this whole Imus frenzy is, complaining about how making it the only discussion in town represents a problem in selectivity with the contemporary media. I also drew a comparison to the media frenzy surrounding Anna Nicole Smith's untimely death - a subject which I also chose to undertake . However, in attacking these subjects in my own blog, I merely added to the overblown dialogue, rife with stupidity and redundancy. I apologize for my lack of subtlety, and will try to think my rants through a little more carefully in the future. Thanks to my lady for pointing out this discrepancy. She's smart.

Today's subject is the crew of the "Twilight in the Fearful Forest Tour." On our last tour in Europe, the crew changed from venue to venue because of the fact that we weren't employing a full crew to take care of the behind the scenes business. We were a party of five including Nuno, our tour manager, whose responsibilities included driving the van, dealing with merchandise, settling up with the promoters for payments, and other book-keeping duties. James has taken on the tour management responsibilities for MBD this time, and therefore has a whole lot on his plate. On this foray into the world of the road, we have had the privilege of seeing the same faces every day, and therefore have been able to witness firsthand the level of professionalism that happens on this scale of touring. Kong is the leader and overseer of the crew, holding the title of tour manager/producer, and essentially making sure that everything runs smoothly. Kong's real identity remains unknown to all but a chosen few, so he is known to us simply as KONG. He is a large man, smiley when the opportunity arises, and has an affectation of a big teddy bear. He runs a hot-air balloon business when he's not running tours, which lends a vague eccentricity to his demeanor. Next is Rich, who runs the house sound system for the Decemberists. This is a pretty high-profile job, considering the Decemberists stature as an "it" band, and he does it extremely well. I kind of had Rich pegged as the quiet type, but in Raleigh NC he opened up and drank some booze with us, displaying his sweet side and his extremely uplifting laugh. I've also gotten into the habit of giving Rich a big hug right before we play. He gives AWESOME hugs. Next is the "systems tech" on the tour, Justin, who is as much a wizard as he is a pro. Justin's main job is troubleshooting all of the electronics, including the main sound console, monitor mixing console, and the lighting board (i think). This is a job which I cannot even fathom having, because my actual technical knowledge of the electronics involved in a big tour like this is absolute NIL. Seriously. Sometimes i ask Justin how things are going, and he'll spout off a string of electronics issues, including problems with the grounding, signal distribution, and other jargon-like terms that I have absolutely no idea about. I just respond with, "yeah....of course.....yeah that sounds tough....." Justin has also taken on the job of doing the sound for the MBD opening set, and has done a phenomenal job with it. He says that it's the most fun he has during the course of the evening. He's also become the prankster of the group. Since he's from Ohio and Shara is from Michigan, that whole rivalry thing has lent itself well to shenanigans. In Knoxville, he pasted in huge letters OHIO across Shara's monitor, as well as a couple of OSU stickers on her wurlitzer. Good times. In St. Louis, Shara fell onstage at one point in our set, and the next day Justin bought her a pair of "no slip" sneakers, which he surreptitiously placed in our dressing room. VERY well played.

The next member of the crew is Rick, the Decemberists' guitar tech. Rick may have the most active role on the crew, seeing as each member of the Decemberists plays at least two instruments, and Rick is responsible for making sure each instrument is working well and in tune. Colin also tends to break strings, which means Rick has to quickly change them, tune them, and get the instrument back into Colin's hands. His "office", as he calls it, is full of feng shui (fung shway?), and includes a workbench, worklight, and stool. Rick also loves to quote the movie "super troopers", a fact which makes him very dear to my heart. Marcel is the next facet of the crew. He does the monitor mixes for the Decemberists, and also has one of if not the best sense of humor of anyone on this tour. At his station, he has a picture of his gorgeous young son in the middle of the mixing console to remind him of home, and his desktop image on his computer is a similarly cherubesque image of the baby. When I first saw the picture, I asked him, "Is that a 2004 model." He replied, "no, 2003. I got the athletically gifted package for a couple extra bucks. He's fully equipped." Marcel also loves to quote Dave Chappelle stand-up lines, like the whole "grape drink" bit. Last but not least is Stephen, the lighting designer. His tour nickname from Marcel is "cuddles," a tour nickname he received in Boston after an all-day bus cuddle session with a lady he had picked up the night before. He's been also very enthusiastic about working with MBD and the Decemberists, and has been a total sweetheart night to night. He and Justin will even be hiking it out to LA after Coachella to do the sound and lights for the MBD show at the Troubadour in LA. If you make it to the concert, say what's up to the both of them, because they are both totally nice dudes.

The job these guys are doing is phenomenal, and they represent the real work in this industry. They are experts in their fields, and are functioning on a level of extreme professionalism. The point I need to make here is that these are the people that the make shows happen, without one moment in the spotlight. All we as performers do is show up, get our stuff out, and play. True, this is a different type of expertise, but it requires a lot less total work and effort than the stuff these guys do every day. My first experience in touring came on a Linda Ronstadt tour in 2002, as the lowest rung on the crew ladder. I got to meet a different set of crew dudes, equally as amazing and fun, and found out how cool this whole thing is and how much fun it can be. I'm extremely thankful and appreciative of the efforts of these guys, as well as the efforts of our new merch girl, Katie, and have come to love the crew as friends and colleagues.

Not too much to report on our last three shows. Business as usual has been the word of the day. We are now more than half way done with the tour, and the dates have been ultimately flying by. Soon, we will make our push westward, leaving the midwest, northeast, and the dirty (durrtay) south behind. I will report back soon.

Friday, April 13, 2007

All Eyes on Imus

I've been having a lot of trouble finding ways to start these darned blogs. I fear sounding repetitive, bogus, and a bit long-winded in these writings, and I'm doing my best to not say the same stupid shit over and over again. But sometimes it's easy. My topic for the day is Don Imus. What a fucking moron, right? One would think that it's as simple as that. And I know that's sort of a shallow perspective on the matter, given its dark and undeniable implications about the relationship between black and white, man and woman, and the blue state/red state mentality in our country. But seriously. For me to get into a hotel in Louisville, turn on the tv, and find six news channels tossing around the same tired, days old subject, I have to wonder: aren't there more important things going on the world? I don't just mean people dying in Iraq; I don't just mean what the Iranians have hidden under their sleeves; I don't mean what the scientists (yes, the "scientists....) are saying about the bird flu this week. There have to be 1,000 other more pressing issues out there. To quote Brian, "the world has gone Imus crazy!"

Just because he's helped wounded veterans and lobbied for betterment in the world doesn't mean the guy isn't a total fucking ass. I remember the tornado of news when Anna Nicole Smith died like it was yesterday, and I wasn't even in the country at that point. I was in England with the Diamond, and first found out by encountering a literal wall of tabloid and half-way reputable publications with the same headline, give or take a few more or less tactfully inserted. I heard Dan Rather say on the Bill Maher program (whom I loathe, and don't hold much higher than that DooshImus Maximus Imus) that our worldwide and collective values of news have decreased, while our need and fetish for instant entertainment has increased. I hold the US mostly responsible for this change, mostly because the american culture represents the face of the capitalist world. Capitalism beat Communism, and so the rest of the world has followed the dollar for many years for better or worse. Now we defer to the Euro, but this doesn't change the fact that the Europeans have ignorant people in front of cameras and behind microhpones as well.

So that's my rant for today. Since my last blog, we've played three shows: Birmingham, Tallahassee, and Memphis. In Birmingham, we drove in sensing a certain historic violence in the air. We were literally on the street where some of the worst moments in the civil rights movement took place. The images of blacks being sprayed by hoses and hounded by attack dogs were taken literally a block from our venue for the evening, the Alabama Theater. This is the second state-named theater we've played, the second one being the historic Tennesse Theater in Knoxville. Our hunch proved out to be true, as a brawl almost ensued after the show between our crew and their crew. I was relayed this information by Chris Funk from the Decemberists, who, after having gone back down to the stage to sign autographs in his boxers, shirt, and flip flops, witnessed an altercation between our lighting designer, Stephen, and the production manager from the venue. Somehow, the way Chris told the story made it out to be somehwat comedic and innocuous, but I later learned that the near-brawl was much more serious. Luckily, no punches were thrown and no one was hurt. Notwithstanding near violence, we had a great show, and had a nice evening.

The highlight from the Memphis evening came after the show, back at the "artisan" hotel. I won't go too far into detail about the hotel itself, but let's just say it was under new management......use your imagination...... When Brian and I got to our room, it was somehow deadbolted from the inside, forcing us to seek another chamber. I volunteered and hustled downstairs to get a new key. The guy at the desk took five minutes to even notice me, being held down by a phone call which only elicited the words, "uh huh....yeah....yeah.....uh-huh.....yup," but finally gave me the key to a room on the 7th floor. As Brian and I got out of the elevator, I dropped my key on the floor. I laboriously bent down with my huge duffel bag thrown about my shoulder to pick it up, bending slowly, awkwardly, and uncomfortably, until just before I could reach the key my strap totally busted, nearly throwing me backwards from the transferred force. Luckily Brian got a laugh out of it, as did I, but this means I've busted two pieces of luggage in two months. I think my luck is bad. In our room, however, we found two magical beers which appeared completely on their own outside our window. Seriously. They were sitting right below the window sill, on the outside. I shit you not. As for our dayoff, we did nothing really. We ate a wonderful breakfast, and went to a park to throw the frisbee around. Now we are here in Louisville, and I'm exhausted. Show tomorrow, show the next day, show the next day, and then Chicago. I can't wait.

Monday, April 9, 2007

I HATE ORLANDO, but not in a mean way.

When I was 8, my uncle, cousins, sister, and I took a trip to Disney World. We stayed in the Polynesian Resort, a rather cheesy if not completely tasteless place with flowered wallpaper, bellhops in straw hats and boas, and even the odd hula dance. I remember it being scorchingly hot, sticky, and altogether uncomfortable. I also remember the mickey waffles I ate on our third day there which ushered in the most violent and conquering stomach flu I've ever had in my life. I don't know if I actually got it from the waffles, but from that day forward I became incapable of eating, talking about, or even looking at waffles for the next five years. The flu gripped me for the duration of our stay at the Polynesian, forcing me into a diet of water and crackers for the next week and a half. I didn't even get to check out the epcot center! All told, I think I lost about 10 pounds because of it, and the entire experience pretty much soured my taste for anything disney-related. Needless to say, this was a bad first impression of the city of Orlando.

After having three solid days off here, I can say without question that my first impression was spot-on. We drove here on Thursday from Knoxville Tennesse, a trek that took a total of 11 hours. Shara had left for Cincinnati to play with the string quartet formation of the Diamond in the Music Now festival, so we boys had the van to ourselves. Unfortunately, James had fallen ill a couple days before, so the driving was left up to Bri-guy and I. We arrived at the resort around 11 pm, and immediately unloaded our most fragile and important gear (or as we call it, GuRRRR) onto two carts. In the lobby, the scene was an ugly one. Around the ceiling were neon purple beams which resembled UV lights in tanning booths, and sunburned, exhausted, miserable looking people filled the puke-green arm chairs scattered around the ground floor. Awkward middle school spring breakers held hands and played on each other's laps while frantic, fat, dejected parents scampered around attempting to tame their wild, disney-mad children. As I said, the scene was UGLY.

We checked in and received our two complimentary cookies, quickly taking all of our stuff up to our rooms in an attempt to escape the mayhem of the "Double Tree" lobby. After the long drive, I was exhausted. I wanted to do nothing more than fall asleep in my not-so-tastefully decorated bed. Unfortunately for Brian, he had to drive all the way out to the Orlando airport to pick up his wife Noelle, whose flight had been delayed a handful of hours due to a security breach at JFK. And although I pitied his task after our 11 hour trek, it didn't prevent me from passing out after a glass of wine and a brief update to my facebook status (NUURRRD).

The next day, James and I awakened at around noon, happily sleeping in on the first of two true days off. On our agenda for the day was one thing and one thing only: JETSKIS. James had been looking forward to the prospect of some motorized recreation for at least a week leading up to our stay in Orlando. He had done the research, and gotten me quite psyched on the idea. For all of his cool demeanor and totally P R O approach to these two tours of duty, James does love to go fast on things with motors. If you read the blog from Europe, you'll know that one of our highlights was a product of James' speed-lust, as he led us into the French Alps to zoom around on snowmobiles. On this day, I would again follow his instincts, which this time brought us to Brian Lake. Only about five minutes from the hotel, this "lake" must have been man made, because it served the purposes of aquatic fun perfectly. It was large, circular, and had orange markers outlining the jetski path. The instructor was a true dude's dude with tattoos, shades, flip flops, and a cigarette in his ear, mumbling obvious guidelines and saftey directions to us in his smoky, unenthusiastic voice. Feeling safe and confident enough to not destroy ourselves, James and I took off onto the lake. I followed James out, watching him zig and zag and bank to test the handling of these righteous machines. For me, it was all about speed. None of this turning and veering stuff. I just wanted to go fast. I basically just held the throttle down and went in huge, sweeping circles for a good twenty minutes. I must have been quite a sight to see, too, because that's literally all I did for our entire session. At one point, my $6 blue blocker sunglasses flew off and were gone forever, but I didn't care. I was at the mercy of the machine. Our half hour ended quickly, but was well worth the $50 fee. James, too, had lost his shades, and both of us suffered from some serious speeed hair (picture David Bowie in the movie "The Labyrinth"). Having satisfied our need for speed, James and I headed back to the hotel with smiles on our faces.

We killed the rest of the Friday by seeing "300" at the Universal Studios cineplex, a movie which was as disappointing as it was violent. There's only so much slow-motion death a person can watch before becoming totally exhausted. After the movie, James and I opted to eat at the TGIFriday's adjacent to our hotel. The choices we had were limited, so I don't feel too ashamed to admit it. There's only so much difference between Chili's, Olive Garden, TGIFriday's, and the other novelty dinner options anyways. I ordered the artichoke & spinach dip and the "sizzlin (yes, sizzlin') chicken and shrimp" entree, while James ordered the potstickers and the "famous fajitas". Incidentally, I had never heard of these fajitas; they couldn't have been THAT famous. The food was shit, and we actually had to send for another volley of tortillas from our waitress, Nina. She had a weird accent, which James thought was South-African but turned out to be Bulgarian. Go figure. All I could think was, "Nina, what in HELL are you doing in Orlando?"

I fell asleep watching reruns of Seinfeld. Happily. It was the episode with that guy Jimmy who talks in third person about himself. On Saturday, I had a day completely to myself. Brian and Noelle had gone to Disneyworld, and James had taken the van to go visit his sister a couple hours away. I slept in, showered, and played bass in the room for two hours before venturing into the world outside. Item number one on my agenda was food. Sadly, that turned into a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza in the hotel's food court downstairs. Suffice it to say the meal was neither delicious nor satisfying. Afterwards, at around 4, I headed across the boulevard into the gates of Universal Citywalk - just like the one in LA. Here, I found a land of dollars and cents, where family fun has a price, and every single material possession a child could ever covet has a price: Dippin dots, spiderman action figures, cartoon-themed sunglasses, cellphone and ipod accessories, and the rest. I can't be too cynical on this subject because I know money exists to be spent, but one can't help but feel uncomfortable witnessing the co-opting of fun on such a large scale. After a somewhat scientific, note-taking walkabout, I found myself buying a beer at the movie theatre and wandering into the Rodriguez/Tarantino wankfest, "Grindhouse." It tested my patience and my stomach, but proved enjoyable and highly entertaining. After dinner, I went back to TGIFriday's and ordered the exact thing I had ordered the night before. I think they must put drugs in the food, because I was drawn to the place like the zombies I had seen in "Grindhouse" just a handful of minutes earlier. I got to watch the 3rd period of the NCAA hockey final, which ended in victory the team in green (i don't remember the school) with a dramatic goal with 18 seconds left before the horn. Good times.

As Sunday rolled around, I was totally over the whole day off thing. I couldn't wait to play again. We loaded in somewhat early to the Hard Rock and didn't waste much time getting down to business. Our show was awesome, and it was great to have our fearless leader back with us. Shara had a great time in Cincinnati for the Music Now Festival, and brought regards from the strings of the Diamond, Rob, Marla, Maria, and Olivier. As for our performance, we rocked it. After we played our Nina Simone tune, some dude in the audience yelled out to Shara, "MAKE LOVE TO ME....." Her response was "I just did...." I don't think I've ever heard a slicker shoot-down of a heckle in my life, if you can consider that a heckle. After our set, I went to fetch my gear from the stage and fielded a couple "YOU'RE HAAWTs" from the adolescent girls in the crowd, to which I replied "Buy a CD!" I guess it worked, because we had our best merchandise sales night of the tour so far.

I rushed home after the show to catch the season premiere of Entourage, like a total LA dork. It was ok. All I can think about now is how happy I am to be back on schedule, doing 4 shows in a row before our next day off. I think I've found that I have trouble switching gears from relax mode to full on show-a-day mode, but we have only about a month left before we are home. And so, we keep on truckin' down that proverbial road.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Norfolk, Raleigh, and Johnny Knoxville

We are in now in the south. The DEEEP south. The foliage, the landscape, the accent, the heat, it's all different around here. Henceforth, I feel a bit out of sorts with things. It is now April 5, and we are heading to Orlando from Knoxville to enjoy 3 full days off. Shara left this morning for Cincinnati to play at the Music Now Festival, and we boys will be heading down to Florida alone. I kind of wish I were going up there as well, because the MBD performance at the festival will be in the string quartet formation. I LOVE to watch the Diamond in string formation. It gives a better picture of the arrangements and the classical leanings, and somehow it has the effect of transporting the listener to another time either future or past. Shara will also be performing with Sufjian Stevens, and the band Clogs. Last time I saw the string formation of MBD was at Tonic on the lower east side, a club which was a dream venue of mine when I first arrived in NY. I've played there on two different occassions since then, once with my band Tutti Quanti, and once with Inlets, but Tonic will now be shutting its doors on April 13th as a result of inflated rent and the gradual but overwhelming gentrification going on in the area. If you get a chance to see a show there before it closes, take it. You won't regret it.

Since my last post, we've travelled quite a ways. We've travelled over 3,000 miles, played 14 shows in about as many days, and have been having a great time chatting it up and jamming to the ol' i-pod in our mighty van. Having pushed hard during this first leg of the tour, 3 days off in Orlando looks like an extremely appealing concept. James has been a proponent of finding some motorized recreation during our time there, and when James gets his eyes set on fun, there is no stopping him. Our snowmobiling mission in the French Alps was a product of James' mind, and that was certainly a highlight of our time across the pond, so I'm expecting good things out of this next three days.

As for our last three shows, we've continued our diet of steady rock and all white clothing. We've been getting a lot of love from the audiences, though not as much at the merch tables. For April fool's day, we played the Norva in Norfolk Virginia, and ended up doing a SWEET techno-ified version of "tainted love," complete with glowsticks, a rave-type lighting look, and some sweet dances. Shara even rocked some dope raver shades. It seems that after almost every show there appears some youtube clip from our set, and there were three from the norfolk set.

That's two of them. Kinda cool.

After Norfolk, we got to spend a day off at James' brother's place in Richmond. When we arrived, we breathed a collective sigh of relief upon seeing the beautiful house, complete with yard, play room, pets, and home-cooked food. The house also came with 4 extremely cute, extremely rowdy children; I think our presence there may have brought out the maniac in each of them. My favorite was the youngest, Lydia, a 4 year-old with golden curly hair and blue eyes. Since the others had school to attend during the days, we got to hang with Lydia for most of our day off. We vegged out for most of the day, tossing the frisbee around, watching television, and munching on snacks. After dinner and after the kids' bedtime, Brian and I took a trip to the local movie theatre to see "Blades of Glory." I highly recommend this movie if you're a fan of retarded, stinky, homocentric hilarity (who isn't?). The funny thing about our trip to the movies is that Brian and I were LITERALLY the only two people in the theatre. We saw the 9:45 show on a Monday night, so that's not altogether unbelievable, but we must have seemed pretty gay ourselves. After all, the movie is about to male figure skaters pairing up to make history as the first male on male figure skating duo. We had a good time in spite of the campy undercurrent of our evening.

I can't remember anything memorable from Raleigh, except that I drank a little too much and the night ended with me on the floor of our hotel bathroom swearing off scotch forever. We'll see how long that lasts. On the subject of the Decemberists, they've been growing a lot friendlier as time wears on. At first, some of the band seemed a little guarded, a little terse, but since the first shows they've begun to open up quite a bit. In Norfolk, we got to hang a little bit with them in their huge dressing room, complete with hot tub, sauna, and big-screen TV, but I missed the moment when Chris, the lead guitar whiz, tossed organ/keyboard master Jenny into the hot tub fully clothed. Those are the kind of antics I like to pass on; the kind of things that just sound like fun. We've also made a tentative plan to have lunch at "hooters" in Orlando. Good times, good times.

Last night was Knoxville, and the venue was the historic "Tennesse Theatre". This was by far the most beautiful venue we've played thus far, with beautiful ornate ceilings, and a lobby fit for kings. Apparently the city dropped about 24 million bills on refurbishing, and every dollar certainly showed up on the walls and in the seats. As we drive on through Georgia and on to Florida, I'm dreading the humidity which will accompany in Orlando. If you know me, you'lll know that I cannot stand heat. It makes me crazy. Hopefully I'll be able to survive and not sunburn myself into oblvion before our show at the Hard Rock on Sunday.

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Wellsley, Messiah College, Buffalo Wings

We have now played 11 shows in 12 days since the beginning of this tour. Our last three were at an all female school, a christian university, and at the home and birthplace of the buffalo wing in Buffalo NY. Discovered by Frederick von Wingenstein, a german poultry breeder and closet sewing enthusiast, the buffalo wing has proved to be a staple of the american diet, and a favorite in the world of take-out and delivery. Here, I hung out with Stephanie and Susan, two rather large but totally friendly and genial stage managers studying in the theatre arts department of the University. The highlight of the evening was a small whodunnit involving the wife of the Decemberists' truck driver and a stolen digital camera, but no charges or arrests were made. It made for a funny little bit of drama in the backstage, but no arrests were made, and no charges filed.

Buffalo was the middle stop in this last trifecta, and it took us a total of 8 hours to get there from Wellsley College in Massachusetts. The Wellsley show was a lot of fun, although somewhat uneventful. It's not that often that you get to play to an entire room full of hormonal females, so we cherished our 30 minutes on stage and relished the vibe as best we could. It felt a little weird, though; I think you could smell the pheromones in the air. The only time I've been in a room with that much pent up hormonal energy swirling around is when I went to see "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" on its opening night.

The Wellsley show was business as usual, except for Brian and my awesome frisbee session in front of the Lulu Wang student center. Since we've hit our stride and gotten into the rhythm of things, our days have fallen into a rather mundane pattern: wake up, drive, drive, drive, load-in, kill time, soundcheck, kill time, play gig, load-out, watch some of the Decemberists, go home, go to sleep. The in-between things tend to stand out a bit because of the cyclical nature of our events. That's why frisbee has all of a sudden become the COOLEST. Watching James play frisbee is incredible because he's 6'4'' and takes these immense strides, handling himself like a big bearded antelope prancing around the grasslands. Frisbee really brings out the kid in people, I think. It also works for curing the boredom and accumulated restlessness that accompanies sitting in a van for 8 hours. I myself got a little stir-crazy in the backseat yesterday, but have otherwise managed to maintain some semblance of sanity in this string of shows.

Saturday's show brought us to Grantham, PA, to a Christian University called "Messiah." We played in their auditorium, which made the whole thing feel a little bit like prom. By the time the Diamond started our set, the entire thing was packed to the brim with young God-loving collegiates. Ironically, I chose this night to play my sloppiest set of the tour. The big man upstairs could not have been very happy with that. Lucky for me, god doesn't have the sharpest of musical ears (have you ever heard christian rock? how about christian RAP?)

No offense, god.

Today's show will be in Norfolk Virginia, and it's warm enough down here that we are beginning to see signs of spring along the interstate. Little flashes of purple and white and green are popping up everywhere, replacing the ugly brownish month-old snow of New England. The change in foliage has become symbolic for me of the mileage we've convered. As we travel further and further south, I find that the landscape is becoming less and less familiar. I've never really spent much time int he south at all, so this is all new to me, and I'm finding that the south has begun to feel like another country. We just ate a "Cracker Barrel", and I noticed traces of the drawl for the first time. Brian is from West Virginia, and both James and Shara logged most of their childhood hours in Texas, so it shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. Perhaps the reason for that is that their accents have been buried by years of listening to Manhattanite talk.

Tomorrow will be a day-off, finally. My plan is to perhaps see that new Will Ferrell flick "Blades of Glory," and perhaps drink a bit. These university shows have been quite tame in the booze department, so i will be looking to let my hair down a bit. Hopefully play some frisbee, too.