October 11th, MMXIII.
Wow. It’s been some time. Hard to believe that we’ve been on the road for more than a month. I left off with us in Michigan, but so much has happened since then. After our final show in Michigan, we drove to Detroit and slept in a parking lot next to an oil refinery. It was incredibly hot, 90 degrees and humid. Many beers. Also Jerry tried on a bunch of women’s sunglasses and Justin kept thinking about buying a can of Vienna sausage party wieners…. We’re all glad that he didn’t.
We quickly realized it was so hot that if we didn’t get some air moving, we would boil inside the van, so we asked the truck stop security guard/attendant if he knew of any outlets we could use.
“Shit man, they only pay me eight bucks ‘n hour and I ain’t paid enough to know that kinda stuff…. Here, take this”.
From atop his security checkpoint tower, he handed me a pamphlet containing information on the NEW AND IMPROVED portable generator that could be rented for $75. The generator provided electricity, heat, air conditioning, wireless Internet, and when I asked him where it was or how it worked he said
“Man, I have no idea, they only gave us the flyers, I don’t think we even have one of them machines yet, ain’t nobody interested in that stuff…. Besides, it’s way too expensive!”.
I told him we just needed an outlet and he said to poke around and see if we couldn’t find one somewhere. Cool guy.
After searching around, we found an electric outlet on the side of an INTERNATIONAL HOUSE OF PANCAKES and dangled our extension cord from the van to the outlet so we could power a box fan to blow hot air on us. Just a bunch of scruffy dudes walking around in their undershorts of an IHOP parking lot… pretty normal stuff. Meanwhile, ambulances kept screaming by towards a truck stop parking lot. I think someone died.
We awoke under the smoggy Detroit sun and blistering heat to a “tap” “tap” “tap” on the window.
“You can’t be plugging in here! Get outta here!”.
It was some sort of security guard barking at us. Definitely not the friendly night shift guard. It was time to get out of Detroit and head to CANADA. We washed up, got coffee, and started slugging towards the land of maple syrup and hockey.
Crossing the border into CANADA and coming through that tunnel from Detroit into Windsor was like night and day. We nervously gripped our passports hoping that we’d get across without any trouble despite our rusty van and general scruffiness. As we approached the border, the nerves grew. I had heard countless horror stories of bands being turned around, held up, searched, dogs being brought out, scraps of old weed on the bottom of a granola bar wrapper causing people to be questioned and tours being cancelled.
The man who looked like a bulldog stared at me with eyes that seemed to have no soul.
We handed them over.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING COMING TO CANADA”
“WHAT’S IN THE VAN!”
“Luggage, clothes, a guitar, beards”
He looked over the passports for what seemed to be hours. Looked at us and then back at our passport photos as if he was having a hard time believing that we were who we said we were.
He handed the passports back and that was it. It was like he gave up and decided that being a grouch wasn’t his true calling. The troll let us pass. We did it. We made it.
More soon. Bye for now.