Waking up the next morning, I have to start waking everyone up early to get a head start to Boston. Can you believe we never ever considered the fact that it might be impossible trying to Boston – all-American city, USA if there ever was one – on the 4th of July? Well, thankfully it was suggested the night before, before we were stuck in endless traffic on the expressway! As slowly and as ever surely, the troops awaken and load into the van for our morning drive.

It turns out we spent the night at a house right on a lake. Fancy that! If I had known that were the case, I sure as hell would’ve stayed up and enjoyed the surroundings. So it goes though. We stop at the first gas station we see to fill up on gas and coffee. This tour I’ve been sticking strictly with tea for vocal health and preservation. The great thing is, most places will let you snag a coffee cup with hot water for free for your tea if you ask. After I filled the gas in the van, I went back in to the station to ask the older man if this was kosher. He said no problem. But when I started making my way back to the coffee machines he happened to ask what type of band we were all in. It still throws me off when people notice this. Tried my best to explain with the least amount of verbiage possible. Just goes to show how many bands exist now, and how many of them are touring around.

The drive to Boston was relatively smooth and uneventful. The thruway was basically clear, and slowly started collecting as it went from 10 am to 12 pm and 1 pm. We still beat traffic though, thank goodness.

Being vaguely familiar with the neighborhood of the house we were playing at in Boston, it was really no issue finding our way. We did up taking the wrong turn down a dead end street parallel to the street we wanted. Boston streets are narrow as hell! My assumption is they just tossed pavement over the colonial cobblestone, never attempting to expand streets for motor vehicles to actually ride on. None of us are particularly gifted with driving a van and trailer combo on top of that. So we had to unhitch the trailer and have 4 of us back it in to a driveway, allowing Dave to rotate the van in the direction we needed it to be. Hitch back on, with a leery neighbor staring at us while we do this. Swing the van around the corner and park in front of the Fort Fuck Awesome.

Now for those who don’t know, Fort Fuck Awesome was (past tense because the house is now finished with hosting shows…RIP) exactly that — fucking awesome. Our good buds Matt and Jon from Kill Conrad live in the house, amongst a whole shit ton of other people. Last time we played at the Fort was in January, and there was a shit ton of kids just losing their minds. It was by far the best show Sakes Alive!! had ever played. The bar was pretty high up there for us with the Fort this second time. Matt and a number of buddies were re-planking the half-pipe in the backyard. A barbecue was going to commence in a couple hours, nothing much to do between now and then.

We basically lounged around for a few hours, watching the work on the half-pipe and shooting the shit with everyone. Those folks at the Fort just have a great, communal vibe going with that house and their friends. Fun punk times! Moose and Dave decided to start shaving each other’s backs (hahaha!). Moose attempted to shave the Yankees logo in Tim’s chest hair, but fails miserably at it. Instead he turns it into two exclamation points, ala the SA!! logo.

More and more people collecting with each hour. Some folks grab burgers, hot dogs, veggie-stuffs and all. The yard is getting incredibly filled with all sorts of punk types snacking and hanging. The half-pipe complete, shredding commences. You can already tell that this show was going to kick ass.

When things music-wise do start, our buddy Ken and his band Single Female Lawyer start playing. Ken runs the Vinyl Vlog with his friend, and his band kicked ass. Sounded so absolutely No Idea Records-esque. Gruff vocals and layered instrumentation. Razors in the Night also killed it, and brought all the normal skinhead dudes out in Boston (normal as in not douches). Such Gold killed it again, and had a really great response from the house. Our set felt the most fun ever. Great response, people going bonkers. This is what house shows are about! And Kill Conrad were as catchy and fun as ever. Didn’t ever know they did a Blink 182 cover! Absolutely classic.

After the show and all is dark, the fireworks now make their way out. Suddenly everyone has a roman candle, sparkler or something. Not only that, but they’re lighting them off into the sky, trees, or each other! Fucking insanity. But so memorable. This is what memories are made of. Drunk skateboarding on the ramp, screaming and shouting, people everywhere. Everyone in our band is extremely drunk to say the least. The antics our band had going on were unparalleled by any other tour we had been on.

Of course, Dave and I are the first ones to hit the sack, haha. We’re staying at the Fort for the night, right in the basement where we played. A fold out couch, some couch cushions, and dirty floor as our bed space. We took the couch (the luxury of being first to bed!), and I have no idea how late everyone else stayed up. Though I do know Kyle was drunkenly wandering around the house and neighborhood all night. Moose ended up sleeping in a puddle of alcohol, soaking through his sleeping bag and clothes. Tim on a random mattress on the floor. Mike in the van.

The next morning after multiple parties piecing the story together, Kyle had quite the night. Kyle had all these crazy bruises on him, but no recollection of how he got them. Turns out he was roaming around the streets and was stopped by a cop. Cop asked him if was 21, cause he was obviously intoxicated (just moments earlier Kyle was expressing the deep desire to tackle both Dave and myself). He said yes, but when the cop asked to see his license, he had to fess up and say he was twenty. The cop asked him why did he lie? Kyle just said “I dunno?”

Well, I guess the cop felt compelled to tackle Kyle down and handcuff him, according to witnesses of the house. But after some sort of exchange (which I think was Kyle explaining he’s not from the area), the cop let him go. Not without stealing some money from Kyle’s wallet though.

Off to the Brooklyn, NY to play the Trash Bar. Originally, it was looking like the date was gonna be a day off. No luck finding a show; Mondays are always hard. But a band that we had run into in Kingston, NY on a tour last year, The Handme Downs were playing at the Trash Bar. They suggested I contact the booking to see if we could play. I emailed the guy to ask if we could hop on it, and he said it was kosher if we guarantee we could bring 10 people through the door that night. In the case that we could, they’d consider working with us in the future. Personally I was not all too concerned with working with them again. But I was concerned with filling this date. So sure thing. They sent me a contract to look over. Which included stipulations that we do not bring in our cabs, but use their house equipment, and bring in at least 10 people to get paid* (this detail comes into play later).

One of the longer drives of this tour, Boston to Brooklyn, was an especially warm one. Cutting through Connecticut and being sweaty as hell. Stopping for gas somewhere in the state about half an hour from New York City, we were a little confused on the directions. Asked some workers of some sort (they were paving a parking lot or something) our directions. This especially vocal dude with the most Southern-but-not-Southern accent I’ve ever heard tells us “You don’t want to go the way your directions tell you! Cause there’s a toll on that bridge, and they will ticket you UP THE ASS.” This “UP THE ASS” comment was made several more times, while he explained to us a better, less expensive route. Thankfully, his directions were helpful, and we avoided tickets up our asses.

Arrive at the Trash Bar right at load in, we see the Handme Down crew and shoot the shit a bit. Taking a look at the inside of the Trash Bar, it didn’t look too bad. A whole separate room from the bar with a stage. Seemed alright! Plus, they had free tater tots for all patrons. Things were looking pretty cool!

Various friends of ours showed up, trying to help us out with the “10 people” rule, so we could get paid. Barrie from Generic Insight Radio and her neighbor (and our good buddy) Marcus; Matt and Claire from Red Leader Records; Jeff from Bridge and Tunnel. The show seemed a little out of our element though. Bands that seem to be bar rock or indie hobbyists or something. Whatever. In New York, it is big practice to poll people at the door as to which bands they’re there to see (which the Trash Bar was doing). Things started not feeling right when the woman at the door told us our current tally was one person, when in fact there were near ten around the place. Everything straightened out though, and we just decided to be a little more watchful of the situation.

Unfortunate as it is to say, our set this night (and only that night of tour) was not even remotely fun. Our friends were SO awesome for coming and seeing us, and coming the next night at the Charleston (also in Brooklyn) after how horrendous our set was at the Trash Bar. Never again will we agree to using house equipment. Especially seeing that it sounded like SHIT. The whole night was terribly awkward, and we didn’t do a great job of rising above that vibe. Everyone kindly stuck around though.

We were the last band of the night, so Moose and I went and found the door girl to settle up for any type of gas money. She peers at us with obvious hesitation and is like “okay, let’s see what your tally was”. She takes a look and says “Okay, you brought ten people”. Okay! Cool! So at least some type of gas money, right? “Since the agreement was you were paid for every person after the initial ten, I can’t pay you”.

What.

I start explaining to her that the contract said that up to ten people ensured we would get paid. She disagrees and says every person after ten. Immediately I look up the email on my blackberry. It turns out that it did say every person after ten, I misread. However, we’re still the band who brought the most people and are on tour. Our funds were absolutely dried out from the first four shows for gas and tolls. We needed ANY money right now. But she refused to budge.

Door girl: “You’ll have to contact our booking guy and discuss it”

Me: “Okay, how do I do that? Is he here?”

Door girl: “No, we’ve only actually seen him once ever. You’ll have to call or email.”

Now folks, we’re not money-hungry or anything. But you can’t even begin to imagine the toils it takes going on the road and trying to survive. Our tank was at empty, and we NEEDED any amount of cash. So this sucked. Moose got so pissed he screamed at her, went outside, and firmly planted his foot through the front marquee/chalkboard. This prompted the bouncer to not let him back. Sigh.

She pulls me aside and says “I understand that you’re mad, I would be too. But I don’t appreciate being yelled at! Promoters and clubs in New York talk to each other, and if you piss one off, you piss’em all off. And you’ll never get booked again!”

Are you serious? Am I trying to slob the knob of record execs to make our band their golden goose? Fuck off! She did seem to take pity of some sort and bought two shirts. After coming to terms with this the exit issue of the night was where were we staying?

It turned out that although everyone thought we had a place to stay, we didn’t. All our friends had left, except Tim’s friend Kaitlin. He asks her if we can crash at her place, but she only had limited space. Moose is calling his buddies in the city, but none of them are picking up. Dave left earlier to stay the night with his friend. Tim and Kyle end up going with Kaitlin. Moose, Mike and myself slept in the van. Sweaty and smelly.