Thursday, September 8, 2011

Mayhem Festival July 9th Through Whenever It Ended, I Can’t Remember

So I feel like I owe you guys and gals an explanation on my lack of bloggin’ over the course of the summer. I had this whole big rant planned out where I was going to tell you how as the band grows so does my responsibilities and blah, blah, blah but the truth is, I was just too damn lazy.

The days were long and for 99% of the tour it was earth core temperatures out there, so by the time I got done the last thing on my mind was trying to do anything that did not include the sound of a cold beer opening and remaining as still as possible. Don't believe me?  I'll give you a run down of my day, everyday, for most of this summer.

9:15am: Alarm goes off

9:30: Alarm still going off

9:35: Finally get out off bed, dust the Wheat Thin dust and dried ramen noodles off my chest. Put on my shoes to find three cigarette butts, a bottle cap and a handful of guitar picks because I made the mistake of leaving them next to Bryan’s bunk.

9:40: Step outside into 95+ degree heat to unload the trailer

9:42: Yell “Fuck, you again!” at contents of trailer

9:45-10:15: Mutter swear words to myself while loading gear on to stage. Sweat a lot.

10:20-10:45: Unearth’s Tour Manager, George, and I wander around in circles trying to find catering and production. Usually arriving ten minutes after breakfast has ended. Catch John leaving who gives me a blow-by-blow of what I missed.

11:00: It’s back to the trailer to count merch and drag it up hill across a gravel parking lot, set up the tent, all the display shit. Sweat a lot.

12:45: Back to the bus for twenty minutes of AC before the gates open, fill a cooler with some ice and as many waters as I can find. Curse my life decisions.

1:30: Gates open, time to man the merch booth. It’s now 103 degrees with 80% humidity. My balls are in a broth of sweat and Gold Bond.

1:45: Drunken sixteen year-old pulls her smoke out of mouth long enough to put down the baby and ask “What the hell’s a Red Flag?”

2:35 The Boys play. Still sweating a lot.

3:30: The boys do a signing at the merch booth, while I hide in the back trying to keep any part of my body from touching any other part of my body.

4:00-6:30: Headbangin' and shirt slangin’. And sweating, lots of sweating.

6:35: Start breaking down as fast as possible in hopes of making dinner.

7:40: Missed dinner. Catch John leaving who gives me a blow-by-blow of what I missed.

8:00: Back to the bus to deal with paperwork for the day. Sweat a lot.

9:00: Think to myself “Today is the day I’m going to catch up on the blog, but first a beer.”

9:45: “Just one more beer.”

9:50 “Oh, shots!”

10:00: Myself and the rest of the Merch Mafia start taking fools money playing dice.

11:30: “I was suppose to do something…”

12:15: Buz from Unearth and I are riding bikes of unknown origin to an unknown destination.

1:00 Alex, Unearth’s merch guy, fakes being hammered, all the way down to puking on the bus, to chase some shitty girls away.

2:15: Watch David and Slo start packing all the shit in the trailer I should have packed four hours ago.

3:00: Bus call.

3:10: Standing in the moving bus trying to eat a jar of peanut butter using Wheat Thins as a spoon while listening to both bands have a battle of the Ipods. Which usually ended with ten back-to-back yacht rock songs.

3:45: “No way we still have some Ramen?!”

4:00: Realize I have to be up in five and a half hours and head to my bunk promising myself that I am not going to do this tomorrow.

9:15am: Alarm goes off…

You might notice that there are no pictures. That has nothing to do with the laziness mentioned above, but my current streak of at home laziness. But that will all change when we go out in November. That’s right, big news is on the horizon. Stay tuned.

—Coyle

Tour To Live!!!!!!!

3 comments:

  1. Funny, enlightening and scary. . . sometimes (not very often) I'm glad I have a day job. Recommend yogurt instead of wheat thins and ramen--it counteracts the beer and shots & reduces the need for Gold Bond. . .

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  2. Seems like your hands were full so you're forgiven

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  3. so what is Red Flag

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