Day 8 - Albuquerque

We got a good night's sleep at the M6 after the Carly's in Phoenix debacle. The final word was that the booker's 6-piece band has played there often, so it wasn't because we were a full band, but because our name scared him. As Ben said, "The booker is always blaming the owner, the owner is always blaming the booker."

Yesterday we had the whole day to "explore" Tucson. Our explorations consisted of some time in Shot In the Dark Cafe where the barista insulted David's request for a 12-ounce, tall mocha because, pie on our face, "talls" are 16 ounces in Tucson. The day also consisted of other efforts to waste time like going to Best Buy so David could offload the 1299 pictures and 48 videos he's taken so far and a trip to Target so I could get more socks. (Note to self: pack more short socks when you're going to hot parts of the country where you might be inclined to wear shorts and not tall socks. Second-day socks are pleasant for NOBODY.) David and Marie compulsively wrote in their journals. I imagine they say things like, "I'm so bored, I want to stab Jamie in the neck and put her guitar through a wood chipper."

There was also some intense hacky sack/foot bag in a park and a meal at a delightful little place called Iguana Cafe where, as we entered, all 15 of the patrons put down their drinks, turned their heads to us, and watched us walked in with that, "Hmph, yer not from here" look. But the food was great and we tipped generously, so I'd like to think they liked us in the end.

The consensus of Marie and I (I guess that's not a consensus, really) was that it's actually easier to waste 10 hours driving from town to town than to sit in a single town. Although, all this new-found sitting is giving me a good fit of sciatica.

We played at the Vaudeville that night with two other out-of-town bands (Mad Happy and Thee Makeout Party) and locals Flagrante Delicto who all kicked ass. Although, it was a little concerning at 10:30 PM because the only people in the bar where two of the bands and the bartender and we all had our eyes glued to some HBO real sex show on the TVs. I, of course, had my eyes covered. I'm a lady and don't watch such trash. But, the club filled out, we had fun playing, people were nice to us (Matt Brown was right), and a sweet fellow named Mullarkey offered us a place to stay. We learned from being in Mullarkey's place that he was Tucson Weekly's "Best Scenester" for 2005. It was almost like being among a celebrity.

This morning we went back to the Shot In the Dark coffee shop where David was again insulted for his drink order, then we hit the road. The drive today was a little quieter. The novelty of eight-hour drives might be wearing off. Or, the cold that David and Marie are battling could be having an effect. All I know is that, since we've been in the southwest, I have had nothing but shitty margaritas.

We're now kickin' it at the Atomic Cantina which has a cool...for lack of a better word...vibe. It's a Friday. It's the 13th. It's already pretty full. All of these things bode well for the core objectives of a touring band: play in front of a lot of people and make enough money to pay for gas (and then some, hopefully).