Woke up in the parking lot of a Motel 6 at around 9AM… We hadn’t slept much, but we had places to be. So I banged on the door of the room where Camera Kenzy, Gorilla, and Sound Guy Alex were crashed out, and I yelled: “Open up! This is the police! I know you’ve got a transvestite hippie in there and you’re under arrest!” Kenzy came to the window, saw it was me, then went back to sleep without opening the door.
Four hours to Fort Stockton, Texas, AKA, four hours to nowhere. A brief check point scare right outside of El Paso, in which the fuzz let The Van pass free and clear, but took issue with our follow car. Apparently the drug–sniffing dogs smelled something that wasn’t there, because it wasn’t nothing there (ed. note: time to put Kujo down hill-billy highway patrol, or at least give him a proper retirement, cause he done wasted y’all’s time). Sound Guy Alex was shall we say, not pleased with that whole experience… I’m pretty sure he’d rather have relived the Crazy Jonny pee-bottle episode over again then to have to stand there not knowing if there was anything naughty in the follow car while Officers Douche and Bag thumbed through our belongings. Sum it up with an “all’s well that end’s well,” cause it did end well.
The end was a bar called The Good Times Lounge, situated on a big open piece a dirt in Ft. Stockton, with nothin’ but tumble-weeds and abandoned shacks beside it.
John Wayne Bro Band had been sitting at that watering hole for a few hours waiting on us, so they were fully “tuned” if you will… We pulled up, my dog bit the lead singer, we busted out the coolers and the BBQ, and loaded those heads into the rig.
While set up was going down, Jonny Boy, Numbers, the PH, and I did some exploring of the local terrain, and mingled with the local heads. We kicked in a couple doors, rummaged through a couple abandoned houses, and came out with an old school keyboard and a book on the the teachings of Jesus. The keyboard thing is real talk, sound guy Alex hooked that beauty up and it still rocks. Couldn’t fabricate that one. The Jesus Book got jacked by John Wayne Bro, and that’s bunk, because I’m a have very little direction for the rest of this trip on account of that.
Fortunately they traded me a few raging tunes for the teachings, and we partied our faces off for a few hours in a place that I couldn’t imagine living in, but that apparently people live in. Apparently those people don’t love it when you kick down doors at the abandoned houses around their property, because they called the man, and the man rolled up. That was our cue, and we took it, and we hit out, and we broke down four times on the four hour stretch from Ft. Stockton, to San Antonio. By the time we got there to retrieve our boy Chach on the side of the road, we were operating with a make shift pedal, that we had to operate via a hand covered in a work glove, because it was more a pulley than a pedal. It was fashioned out of zip-ties and had to be pulled by someone other than the driver. At times it looked bleak. It seemed like this machine from the eighties wasn’t going to be able to pull off the fete and get through to Austin, but Gorilla has learned the van in and out. So it took a few crawls under the bowels, a few conferences with random truck-driving redneck mechanics, a few fingers crossed, but we made it to Austin at seven AM on Tuesday March 13. I’m pretty sure it was glorious. Yet having puked at six AM, I wasn’t fully certain as to if it was real or fake, but I closed my eyes, and figured I’d probably be waking up at SXSW in the morning.
Other Highlights: We stopped at a gas station somewhere in Texas, sometime around four AM. There were massive beetles everywhere. I threw those massive beetles on a passed out PH and a passed out Jonny. It was awesome until I realized the beetles made my hands stink.
Track for the Day: “Born Free” by The Rassle, off of their self titled album… They are blasting the Jam Van at SXSW on March 14, which is the day that I’m posting this. It’s gonna be heady.