Monthly Archives: May 2014

The Adventures of Touring with a Rock Band – Part 12

I’m sitting in the jump seat of the bus, admiring as the soapy water cascades down the giant windows, and enjoying that deep, rumbling sound of a pressure hose against the exterior body, and contemplating if I should go with a coffee, soda or Vitamin Water to ease the hang over.  Let me tell you about the events leading to this, the tour bus getting washed.

We were having a drink on the bus, after playing Rock on the Range music festival.  We were all done working, Guns N Roses was the headliner, so we decided to go catch the show.  We got to the stage, and I was standing next to Dan, one of the members of Nothing More, which is one of my new favorite bands, and the members are some of my new favorite people.  We listened to two songs, and then both looked at each other and were like, why are we watching Guns N Roses again?  Good conversation over a mug of whiskey (because mugs are the only glassware we have on the bus) sounds much better than listening to obnoxious, no longer relevant, shit music.  So Dan and I turned right around and got down on some Jack Daniel’s, which we both agree is the worst call whiskey, but when it’s free, you don’t complain.

Good times rolled on, and Joe and I (one of the other crew members) hopped a barbed-wire fence into a salt barn.  I love Joe.  He’s been beaten and worn, but he has the heart of a lion.  He’s always up for an adventure, and we all know that I’m always up for a potentially hazardous excursion, so you’ll often find him and I doing something thrilling and mildly illegal together.  Last night’s Cait and Joe adventure was investigating what was inside this huge barn-like structure that was just outside of our bus.  We used his denim jacket to blanket the barbed-wire (thank you Levi’s for still making quality denim that will withstand even barbed-wire) and made our way into the dark structure.  Inside was slightly eerie, and we discovered mounds of what we think was salt.  I took it in, because that will probably be the only time in my life that I will have mountains of salt towering above me.  It was oddly beautiful.

Back on the bus, and we are joined by Maus, the bass player of Lacuna Coil, the band I’m working for right now.  I love Maus too.  He’s a party.  The three of us are probably the biggest “drinkers” on the bus, (in our defense, the other’s don’t drink much at all) so when you put the three of us together with no chaperons… I haven’t decided yet if this is a brilliant idea or vastly unwise.

We go on to be terrible people, and turn people watching into a sport.  Who can spot the strangest looking girl (which is everyone at a music festival) and then debate on whether or not  they would still fuck them.  I would agree or disagree, pointing out these poor girls’ attributes or flaws.  Hashtag going to hell.  A couple more birthday shots later (it was Joe’s birthday) and pants start dropping.  Next thing, threesome.  Just kidding.  That wouldn’t be rock and roll.  It’s rock and roll for the boys to climb up onto the counter while you’re in the bathroom, pull down their pants, and tuck their dick and balls so that when you walk out, you’re greeted with the horrendous sight of full ass, and gross, manipulated genitals inches from your face.  Then I’m pretty sure a lot of windmilling while literally galloping up and down the front lounge of the bus took place.  Last night I learned what windmilling is.  If you’re unfamiliar with the term, I would tell you to look it up yourself, but since the Urban Dictionary has such a hilarious definition, I will take pleasure in relaying the meaning to you.

windmilling- the act of spinning one’s penis around in the fashion of a windmill, usually with the intent of hitting someone in the face. Sometimes done while urinating.
“Mr. Bean was windmilling the school children.”

Enough said.

So I’m eating oreo’s, trying not to get assaulted while watching Maus and Joe windmill up and down the bus.  I will say, I was laughing my ass off because then a name calling game between the three of us seemed to develop, which was basically, who could come up with the grossest insult.  “Discharge licking, dirty foreskin face” I’m sure was thrown out there at one point.  We’re yelling this out while chasing each other, climbing on things in the bus… if you were to see a video of us, with no audio playing, I’m positive we would look like a bunch of cavemen during mating season.  And this is tour life.  Way less sex and glamor than people think, and much more of…. this.  Whatever you’d like to call it.

Then Trent, our bus driver, wakes up, and the poor guy is immediately greeted with penises in his face, and Maus biting his nipple.  Of course urine needs to become part of this story.  Trent is about to start driving, and Maus sticks his dick out of the window and pees all over the outside of the bus.  Let me point out, that we DO have a toilet on the bus.

And here we are.  These were the events leading to why we’re now at a truck wash, getting Maus urine cleaned off the Jefferson (the name of our bus), and Maus has now risen from the grave, and is currently puking in the bathroom.  Fuck yes.

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Adventures of Touring with a Rock Band – Part 11

To embrace my sentimental side, I’d like to say that I am so grateful to be doing what I’m doing.  I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time right now, and it feels good.  Not that you give a shit about why, or should give a shit, but I’m still going to tell you what my past month has looked like.

Day off in Pensacola, Florida.  First thing in the morning, I walked off my bus, and saw Alex, the drummer of Eve to Adam (one of the bands on tour with us), and mentioned that the coffee in hand just wasn’t doing it for me and what I’d really dig right now is a bloody mary.  Ask and you shall receive!  He invites me on their bus and we treat ourselves to a bloody mary.  Fast forward to me, the drummer for the band I work for, and four of the Eve to Adam guys on a broken down boat in the middle of the Gulf with that ridiculous song, “I’m on a Boat” playing off someone’s iPod.  We had weed and beer though, so we were not that worried about being stuck.  While the other guys were attempting to do the manly thing, and fix this shit, Baylor and I could not stop laughing.  We were having such a high kid giggle session while we were stuck out in the middle of the fucking Gulf of Mexico.  Don’t worry, we got saved by a fat Braveheart.  Best day off ever.  Beach, booze, boys and bonding.

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I watched an epic display of fireworks in silence, with another new, good friend.  We didn’t say one word during the entire twenty-minute spectacle, but we definitely felt it.  It takes a certain kind of understanding, and relationship between two people to be able to feel each other, rather than constantly talking in order to communicate.  I love that I found one of those friendships on this tour.  Bonded for life.  And the fireworks were fantastic!  If The Sound of Music changed its lyrics in “My Favorite Things,” to Caitlin’s favorite things, fireworks would definitely replace raindrops on roses.  Fuck roses.

I got to smoke a joint on stage and watch Cypress Hill perform.  I’m not particularly into Cypress Hill, and like I’ve said before, I rarely smoke weed, but we were playing the same festival as them, and Casey (one of Eve’s crew guys) said we had to smoke and watch them.  It didn’t seem like an option, and I’m all about once in a lifetime opportunities, and this felt like it could be one of those moments, so of course I said yes. I had a moment where I looked around, I’m on stage, the sun was setting, B-Real was getting down twenty feet away from me (and I will say, he’s kind of sexy live), a new and great friend at my side and I thought, “this is it.”  This is what it feels like to be living the dream.  Then Cypress lit a FAT blunt on stage, and it felt great to be alive.

Panoramic views of the country and hilarious conversations with Trent, our bus driver.  I sleep for like six minutes a night, so I’m almost always the first person awake on the bus, and most of the time I just read, but sometimes I go up and sit in the jump seat, chat with Trent, watch the sun rise and soak in the scenery.  America really is gorgeous.  And conversations with Trent are always entertaining.  We talk about everything from pooping to family affairs.

T-dog and morning fog.

T-dog and morning fog.

I got a tip of the hat from Aaron Lewis, the lead singer of Staind.  I’m not a particularly big fan of the band, but I’ve always had a little bit of a crush on Aaron.  I’ve seen them live before, and he’s just got presence.  He doesn’t do anything but stand there and sing.  He doesn’t jump about or head bang or climb onto monitors and drum kits… he just stands there and sings, but somehow it is incredibly captivating.  During their set, I was standing side stage by myself, smiling, bobbing my head to the song.  Out of nowhere, he turned, and  looked right at me, and in the middle of singing, he smiled, and tipped his hat to me.  It was a moment.

Watched Maus, the guitar player for the band I work for, rock out during Kyng’s set with a pink parasol in hand.  So brilliant.

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This is what it looks like to not give a fuck.

Spent Easter drinking Strawberita’s at Trent’s.  It felt like family.  I actually couldn’t palette the strawberita, but it was fantastic to see the dude rock n‘ roll studs drinking tiny cans of pink colored malt liquor.

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Openly discussed double penetration during a band signing.  After every show, the band does a signing, where all the fans can come up and get their merch signed and tell them how much they love them and blah fucking blah.  I basically stand there and collect their tickets for the signing that are now soaked in gross boob sweat, and make sure that there are enough sharpies available for the band.  Maus or Ryan is usually next to me, and on this particular night, it was Maus (the one with the pink parasol) and he was drunk.  Always a good time.  Somehow we started discussing double penetration as these fans are shaking his hand and attempting to confess their love for his band.  Him and I are just in our own world and laughing our asses off as he’s making the motions… literally trying to shove sharpies up my butt to convince me that DP is a good thing, as I’m arguing that buttholes involved in sex is disgusting.  Best signing ever.  Sorry fans!

Got fully groped by a stripper.  She was a hot mess and basically played with my boobs for a second.  I thought it was going to be a low-key night.  Trent and I were going to chill and watch bad action movies, and somehow that turned into us going to a strip club with one of the other crew members, and a random Italian.  Why not?

Fell in love with Baylor.  We were playing at an ultimate dive bar in some irrelevant town, and the fans were bombarding me before I had opened merch because the venue opened doors early.  Everyone calm the fuck down…  go get a drink and stop staring at me as I set up you goddamn weirdos.  In the midst of this merch hell, I look over, and Baylor is by himself, in the corner, playing “Cruisin’ USA,” (that driving arcade game) leaned back, drink in one hand, and just looking like a rock star gangster.  Baylor would replace whiskers on kittens in the Caitlin version of that Sound of Music song.  It made the merch hell not feel so bad.

Set an alarm off in a church and broke into a cemetery at god knows what-o’-clock.  Why not?

Went to a country music bar in Nashville with the members of a metal band.  We stuck out like a sore thumb but we had a blast.  And why do male country music singer’s dance like they’re a Chippendale?  So embarrassing.

Realized that I look beat as fuck, but then realized that I don’t care.  The band went to some pub in Asheville after the show, and after I was done with merch, I went to meet them.  As I approached, the bouncer immediately asked me if I was with the band dudes, and told me where to find them because they had gone around back.  Wait, what?  How did you know I was with them?  Then I figured out that it was because I look like absolute roadie hell.  I’m talking dusty clothes, dirt encrusted hands that rival bum’s hands, no shower, hair in the same braid for three days, tattered shoes and a backpack.  Always wearing a backpack.  What was for a split second a self-conscious moment, quickly turned into a moment of peace.  I realized that I was happy, and for the first time in a very long time, that meant more to me than the way I looked.

Some of us.

Some of us.

Made a gigantic piece of machinery (the tour bus) turn around on the highway for me.  Yes, I had to pull my one favor card on Trent.  I seem to have one major fuck up per tour when it comes to the bus.  I left my friggen house and car keys on the bus when they dropped me off at the airport.  Luckily I realized it ten minutes later, but a tour bus making a U- turn isn’t exactly a no big deal task.  Oh well, now I owe Trent and he has something to hang over my head, which he seems to enjoy.

Now I’m home, for a week off, and this was the first thing I did…

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Bloody Mary.

Baylor and I were both heading home at the same time, him flying, and me basically getting dumped off on the side of the highway, getting a rental car and finding my way back home, all while being hung over.  We made a goal that we’d both be at our favorite spot for an afternoon cocktail by 1:00pm.  I won.

Life is good.

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