MastoEurope Part two!

Bremen, Germany 1/18/12The best part about traveling to foreign countries is learning about the cultures. Take for instance the fact that Germans absolutely hate the Scorpions. Bringing up an affinity for the Scorps will get you a look normally reserved for someone who just had their finger rip through the toilet paper—a combination of disgust and sheer disappointment followed by anger. People get mad, like normal conversation in English one minute to screaming at you in German the next type mad.

Brussels, Belgium 1/19/12
First of all, I’d like to say, “Fuck yes Brussels!” Never have been treated with such an overwhelming response. We thank you from the bottoms of our enlarged, aorta blocked by of piece of cheese, tar ball bouncing around the chambers hearts. It makes me wish I had been able to leave the venue and check out the city. That is, besides the outdoor urinals in the alley behind the club.
But no such luck. So instead I want to take this time to introduce you to our driver, Jozef:
Look at that handsome son of a bitch. The Czech Republic’s finest. We weren’t in the van ten minutes when I noticed him digging in his nose like he had an mosquito bite on his brain, pulled his finger out, grabbed the stick shift and shifted gears. Not even a courtesy wipe on his pants. I knew right then that we were going to get along great.

Now you may be looking at that RV and thinking wait all six of you are living in that thing? Yep. Three bunks, six dudes—you do the math. That means that Jozef up there has to crawl into bed every night with the one and old Bryan “The Snuggle Bandit” Giles. Known from Stockholm to San Diego for his tendency to embrace anyone within a three-foot radius while snoring out an alcohol fueled mixture that could take the varnish of a chair. Being the pro that he his, he didn’t even bat an eye. A true road dog, badass driver, and a great person to talk to while staring out the window at the amazing European countryside. Glad to call him a part of the crew.

Paris, France 1/20/12
We didn’t even have to play this show, when we got there we found out there was a Chinese cover band filling our spot:
So we took the day off and went and sucked in the sites, starting with some traditional French cuisine:


Hoped the Metro on over to the Eiffel Tower:
Looked at some art:
And caught a show*:
Then it was nothing but wine, cheese and berets for the rest of the night…


*On serious note: This sign creeps me the fuck out. All I can think off is one of those little assholes coming to life and chasing after me with a butcher knife.


San Sebastian, Spain 1/21/12
We should have known this was going to be a wild one when the flyer for the show had what appeared to be a dead David on it:

I can tell you what happened at this show was one of the best things I have ever witnessed in my life. Ever.

The boys are banging through the set and the crowd is going crazy. Mosh pits, crowd surfing, Futbol style Red Fang chants just pure awesomeness. They start Into The Eye and all of the sudden the crowd grabs David of the stage and starts crowd surfing him. While he’s still playing his guitar! I go running over to try and get a photo but the crowd wont’ even let me near. I look on stage to see a guy feeding David’s guitar cord out to him next to a totally hysterical Aaron. I look back as someone from the crowd puts a homemade beer helmet (Ala Prehistoric Dog) on his head and they surf him back on to the stage, put him gently on his feet and he finishes the song. My brain almost blew directly out of my head due to the awesome over load. I don’t have a baby, but I think that this would be better than seeing my first child be born—mostly because there wasn’t any slime or blood.

Lisbon, Portugal 1/22/12
Never in my life did I think that I would say my most memorable experience in Portugal would be at a McDonald’s. But sure as shit…

So we have to do this sort of mad panic load out at the end of the show and end up being done after all the places around are done serving food, so we head out on a mission. After dragging our out of shape asses up we seemed to be a completely vertical hill, we find nothing but a old man bar that closed as soon as we walked in the door. After about another twenty minutes we decided that whatever we saw next was going to have to work. What do you know, but the next open spot we see is the golden arches, the house that Old Dirty Ron built.

The first thing the floored me was they were selling beer. I was so excited that I had to take a picture. Which the girl behind the counter was none to happy about.
Once I explained that I was going to put it on the Internet she changed her tune and even posed for me:
So we’re hanging, eating our Scottish food and getting bugged by the type of people who would hang out at a twenty-four McDonald’s when we notice this guy who has an assortment of different condiments, what appears to be an airline bottle of some strange bright yellow liquor and a spoon laid out very preciously on top of a garbage can. He then came over and asked us for a lighter. After a shrugging “no” he went over to some other people, got a lighter came back to the garbage can, broke the flint and wheel off the lighter, pulled out a tennis ball container sized can of butane from his bag and refilled the lighter.
At this point Aaron, Bryan and I have completely stopped what we are doing and are transfixed, mouths agape. He then dips the spoon into what looked like some honey mustard, poured the yellow booze on top of the mustard, grabs the lighter, and sprays the butane all over the mixture. Next he grabs the spoon, stares at for a second as if they were old adversaries that ran into each other at a wild west saloon, sticks the spoon in his mouth, yanks it out and starts dancing like a raver on bad E.

There was nothing anything any of us could even say or do except grab another beer and watch him start mashing leftovers into a fry container…

—Coyle

Tour To Live!