Friday the 13th in Chicago, what could go wrong? Another numbingly long drive across the hot and humid Mid-West turns particularly moist as one band member accidentally pees on another in what we chalk up to an "honest mistake." The Bounder is a faithful transport, but she lacks most of the amenities, including a working bathroom. Somehow, we avoid a potential stabbing and end up closer for the experience.
The club, Double Door, is located in the Wicker Park section of Chicago. This 'hood is packed with young, hip, tattooed folks of all shades. I spend a while admiring the seemingly endless parade of beautiful women. Time well spent.
After a few false starts and one great show in Denver, it's CRUCIAL that we put on a good show tonight. It's Friday night, it's Chicago, and my ex-wife will be in the audience. A good talking-to by Buster has us all ready, and we deliver a nearly flawless show full of the trademark BM energy and spirit of fun.
After the show, we head over to Late Bar, where the liquor pours til 4am as the dj's spin obscure mod soul gems for the sharply dressed crowd. Dave and his staff show us a fantastic time, as do the locals. I wake up at dawn, the RV parked somewhere in Chicago...as I throw up (why the Sambuca?) in the gutter, I realize I haven't felt this alive in a while. Losing my job was the best thing to happen to me since being offered the same job.
1. Chicago. Kicks. Fucking. Ass.
2. Every once in a while, it's good to drink until you puke.
3. Pee happens. Nuff said.
Here's a review of the Chicago show for a 2nd opinion