The green van of destruction pulls up to Gringo Star, the third leg of this tripod of a tour. It’s good to see some our boys from home. We share a few puffs. Cole asks the club for removal of the barriers; the club fails to oblige.
Tormented students flood the stage, flailing their arms in triumphant dischord. Amps unplug, mics disconnect, and lights blur all the while. Of course, security manhandles the kids escaping their finals. Let 'em blow off some steam.
A 5-minute stroll leads us to the Chameleon club, where Mika Miko starts promptly at 3. The crowd surfing blankets the room, and Mika Miko is right at home in the house party vibe. We get our hands on some gin and discuss cops and robbers, while the drizzle fails to soak our drudgey clothes.
Back at the hotel we chill at Jared’s, and all we can talk about is food, or something resembling food. Me and Nick Gringo Star bring back hamburgers, and of course Jared passes the fug out. This isn’t normally a problem, except my bags are in his room. After an hour, Nick still can’t Karate Kid down the door. Aggravated, we storm downstairs and get the manager to ram their way in. I explain that it’s him, and not the room, that smells like resin. He leaves feeling satisfied in a job well done.
I hand Jared the burger the next morning. He said it was like eating a toy.
-Kang
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