Tales From The Road: Reflection, Reaction and Wrap-up

A week ago the 7k tour bus rolled into its resting place and we arrived in a place previously referred to as 'home'. The fact is, it is still home but it seems foreign at first.

There was much work to be done before the three of us could begin to settle into our 'old' routines. We unloaded the trailer at Spark Lounge which in itself was a jarring experience. It still smelled how it did at our last show before we hit the road. There were 7k pub coasters, matchbooks and cocktail napkins with a thin layer of dust littering all the tables. The stage was empty. The trash was full. It felt post-apocalyptic. After stacking road cases and other gear in the center of the room, we motored to Jeff's house where our vehicles were parked. We moved our cars, unhooked our newly-empty trailer, scooted it into the side yard and made our way to the bus.

Through 7 weeks, our personal items had found their way into every nook and cranny in the bus. We filled everything from trash bags to milk crates with all our belongings and made piles in our cars and on the sidewalk. It felt sad. It felt like moving out of your Freshman dorm room. I remember mumbling out loud, "DVDs, socks, gum, hats, magazines, beef jerky, toothpaste" as I tossed each item into the same bag. I'm not sure there has ever been another time that those assorted items ended-up in the same Hefty bag, except for maybe the dorm room move-out scenario. After all our things were off the bus, the time had come to clean it thoroughly. Again, through 7 weeks, our personal 'stuff' had found its way into every nook and cranny. We meticulously cleaned every square inch of the interior of our beloved bus (which we rented and had to return, by the way). An hour went by and everything was gleaming. We stepped back and admired our efforts before stepping out for the last time.

The bus was clean and fresh, while we were dirty and not-so-fresh. The bus was empty, and so were we. The three of us stood there beside our bus, beside ourselves. Honestly, we didn't know what to do. We attempted to shake hands and wish eachother well, but ended-up in a loving but smelly three-way man-hug as if we had just won the SuperBowl. We each mumbled a collage of mostly vowels and looked up as we separated. We wept.

Forty-nine days straight...I'll let that sink in.

We spent forty-nine days together. We saw things, heard things and experienced things we'll never forget that shaped us as a band, as friends and as individuals. We'll all say, "WOW! The shows, the people, the places, the food, the conversation, the laughs..." and we'll say it with verve. With fondness (even more than before) we grinned at eachother and parted company.

Hopping into my Toyota 4Runner, felt as though I was squeezing into a Mini Cooper. Darting in and out of traffic was as much dreamy as it was nauseating. It was weird. I kept searching the dashboard for the back-up cam to check on the trailer. I kept marveling at how small the steering wheel was. Again, the word 'weird' is really the best I can think of.

When we left for tour, so many 'lasts' collided with so many 'firsts'. I remember my 'last morning' waking up in my bed. The mental snap shots of our room, our bed, her hair and stepping into the shower are still vibrant to me. The 'first night' on the road, the 'first movie' on the bus, the 'first meal', 'first show', etc. are all still so fresh. Getting home, though, felt like a dream. It was wavy, like Deja Vu on NyQuil. I kept wondering when I'd have to get back on the bus and if it weren't for the Thanksgiving Holiday I certainly wouldn't have known what day of the week it was.

Now here I sit, days later pecking away at work reflecting on the whole thing. I don't know where to begin when people ask me "Was the tour awesome?" or "Isn't it great to be home?". In a word, YES. Yes, the tour was awesome, and yes, it is great to be home. In two words, YES BUT. Yes, the tour was awesome, but I can't believe how little time we actually spent onstage performing. Yes, it is great to be home, but we can't wait to go on tour again.

Frankly, we spent more time driving (more than 8,000 miles to be exact) and more time sleeping in Wal-Mart parking lots than we did onstage. That's the part of touring that we never realized. No matter how many shows are booked, we'll always spend more time loading-in, setting up, breaking down, loading-out, driving, eating and sleeping. And honestly, it isn't 'home' we miss; it's all the people and the little things...

We missed our beds.
We missed our showers.
We missed our loved ones.
And, we missed YOU.

Now that we're here in our beds, in our showers, with our loved ones and visiting with you...

We miss tour.

This is life.
Life is good.

Til next time.

Love,
C, J & D