It's gonna be awful, I keep telling myself—managing expectations. We will sleep on hard floors and eat bad food. What shows aren't canceled will be for five people in a rec center basement and we won't be paid. We will get robbed, beaten up, snowed in, pulled over, and made fun of. When we finally pull into Portland two weeks from now, it will be beaten and ragged Mittens that emerge from a fully fucked, broke-ass van.
I repeat this to myself like a litany, "This is gonna suck, this is gonna suck, this is gonna suck," for the weeks leading up to D-Day. So when we finally pull out of town, a bit behind schedule, but definitely in one piece, and drive without much trouble to Bellingham, and play an amazing show for incredible people, and have a wonderful home to share in an old church...well, I've said I don't believe in luck, but this sure seems fortuitous.
The baby blue van has officially been christened Babe (after the ox she shares a shade with) in a brief ceremony.
We play at the Green Frog Cafe Acoustic Tavern—long name, great place. Peanut shells piled on the floor, amazing selection of IPAs on tap, tiny little stage. They have a plaque that says "On this spot in 1897, nothing happened." I don't quite get it, but it's awesome anyways! By the time we squeeze up there, we've had a generous sampling of the beer options, and the place has filled with a great crowd. We play hard; I think the small stage actually helps.
After we play, our friends I Love You Avalanche take the stage in matching red flannel short shorts and tops. I took pictures, but it was too dark, so you'll have to just trust that when guitar/vocalist Anna Arvan said they were "tantalizing" she wasn't lying. Also, they are a ridiculously awesome band. Pop hooks for days. They play 2 encores.
We sell tons of our new 7-inches (available very soon from Magic Marker records!) and a few shirts, and generous tips, and on top of that the bar pays us a cut of the till. We'll cover gas, and have some left
over to get to Seattle!
I Love You Avalanche are nice enough to let us stay with them in their amazing old church they live in. Peter, their drummer, makes me an awesome egg at 1 am that tastes like heaven. In the morning, Anna
shares her incredible lemon-spiced potatoes. Paul hangs out with Sandoz, the kitty.
Paul and Sandoz
It feels like we should knock on wood, throw some salt over our shoulders, whatever it takes not to ruin this luck. Yeah, maybe I do believe in luck, because we've worked hard putting this tour together, sure, but not hard enough to deserve such a great first day.
I Love You Avalanche
Photos by Ben.