I've never really been to California until this tour. Unless you count Anaheim at the age of 8, where all I saw were the walls of my Grandma's motor home in transit, Roto-bot pirates, and throngs of peeling shoulders. Do you think that everybody sings that Phantom Planet song when they cross the California border, now? If so, we were no exception. Over and over again.
Our first stop in San Diego was dinner at the home of Matt's half-brother Daniel, who lives in a very affluent, hilltop climbing neighborhood overlooking the bay. Upon our arrival we were generously dosed with white wine, Limoncella (all the rage in Italy), and penne pasta prepared by Daniel's culinary schooled wife Karen. And this is what the Parenthetical Girls did before their show at the Che Cafe. (Only fueling recent allegations of Zac being the most pretentious man in America.)
Only the finest Aquafina will do for this guy.
Che Cafe felt a bit like a compound to me- the kids hang out on ruined couches in the woods, and a girl tried to run Zac, Brenna and I off the grounds via table-sized wooden spool. This audience was perhaps our most engaged.
Kids on the couch.
San Diego also marked our last show with Lucky Dragons and BARR, sadly. I wish it could have been longer.
That night I swam for the first time on California shores. I knew the water would be warm, but it was eerily warm. Every body looked silver, and while Matt and Zac kept venturing out too far, Brenna and I kept closer to the shore, intermittently yelping "come back". This is where my camera broke. This must have been where my immune system broke, as well.
I woke up to flu signs the next morning after a surprisingly sound slumber on Ty's garage floor. They rapidly progressed into straight up symptoms, and I spent the drive to Flagstaff in the throes. Our car called in sick as well, overheating in the middle of nowhere desert, AZ. We pulled over to cool down, and within 15 minutes were assailed roadside by two men driving a personal tow truck, offering their services as what is essentially human vulture to broken down human roadkill. "It'll take a towing company 4 hrs. to find you out here...." And did I mention they were wearing surgical gloves?
Matt and a friendly Flagstaff native he met at the movie theater.
We united with our last leg tour mates, Reindeer/Tiger Team, for our show at the Hotel Monte Vista in Flagstaff. And if I hadn't been so ill, I might have enjoyed my surroundings a bit more. Only in retrospect can I appreciate the bunk lodgings we were provided, and the fancy tinsel-backed stage.
We felt like Kings.
A fellow in the audience told Zac that our show "changed no less than 5 lives that evening" (I think he must have taken a poll?). And aside from the over-priced tap water, Hotel Monte Vista treated us very kindly. I gave it a 3.5 out of 5 on Hotels.com.
We had a bit of time to kill the next day, so we went to see an obscenely long and awful film about an alien in a red cape named Jesus. Later, we stopped by Arcosanti--one architect's self-sustaining community wet-dream. It was really surreal, especially for a person hepped up on every conceivable over the counter flu medicine. Zac and Sam played a show in Arcosanti once, to much acclaim, but their contact has since moved out. If anybody in Arcosanti reads this, please give us a key to your city and a tour of your wind chime factory. Thank you.
In the face of looming threats of sniping/brutal rape, then murder (or vice-versa), we proceeded onto Phoenix. The Trunk Space was pretty legit, community based and seemingly professional. I accidentally left my overnight case and bag of medicine at the venue that night--and I'm pretty nervous, because Zac tells me that my penchant for leaving necessary possessions behind at venues has left me in peril of falling out of the "Triple Threat". Please pray for me--or if that's not your way, you can cast a vote below to help me gain a position in the top 3.
Theoretical "Top 3".
We retired that night to Eddy (from Reindeer/Tiger Team) parent's home (yet another plush pad). Night swimming, toast eating, laundry doing, M. Night Shamaylan joke making, wireless partying. My sick had a finale that night in the form of a raging fever, but I woke up in the morning a virtual new woman with nothing but a raw throat as evidence.
Next up: Tucson.
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