We arrive with time to spare. The room looks like a former hotel lobby, with a dining hall perimeter surrounding the dance floor. Times New Viking is also on the bill, who play indie synth-pop sans bass. It’s an all American tour, no matter where we are. A good friend of ours (whose name escapes me) takes us through kilometers of backyards to find some off-beaten Indian fare. Cole orders 'Akmed’s Very Hot, Hot, Hot Indian Curry' (that's the actual name). The waiter laughs condescendingly. Crap.
Dishes arrive, piping hot with cumin and brightly sliced chili peppers. Me and Cole grab spoons. Ian and Joe look on in terror as the aftertaste creates a flashflood of sweat and tears. Yogurt alleviates the situation, and I soak through handfuls of napkins. No one around seems to mind. When they take away our plates, and Cole proudly tells the waiter 'it’s not that hot'. Sure dude; you didn’t even finish half of it.
Back at TJ's, Jared is wasted. He’s concerned about the court date. He stumbles around on stage, putting feet through monitors, and flinging his bass in the air at least 4 times. On the fifth toss, it smacks some fan in the knuckles, leaving a viscous red puddle on stage. They play through it, in it, and with it. It’s beautifully bloody.
While everyone parties, me and J Brad hang back at the hotel, exhausted and inebriated. Nawlins hiphop sets the tone, and we observe the bright hotel lighting system. Sometimes, you just need a break.
-Kang
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