In my last blog entry, I spoke of possible tour mvps. One such candidate was that first meal of the day: breakfast. On many days I don’t eat breakfast, which is odd since it’s my favorite meal; in fact, I haven’t once eaten before noon since we finished our tour. Until this morning, that is. I woke up way too early today, after far less sleep than necessary. It wasn’t my intention to do so, but the moon, while beautiful, was just too doggone bright, dagnabit. Anyhow, breakfast ensued, and while nothing to write home about in and of itself, certainly got me thinking about Miss Fairchild’s favorite breakfast joints. We always do a top six around here, since that’s my particular number (do you remember that little tidbit about OLLSS’s tracklisting?)and well, I’m the one writing this blog, so I’ll certainly list six places. In fact, though, this is really a top five with one honorable mention. You’ll see why shortly.
I’ve lived on an island full of seagulls, worked in gardens with mourning doves and blue jays. I’ve spent lot of time in pigeon-filled cities, but never in my life before Miss Fairchild had a bird pooped on me. Now it’s happened three times.
The first time, I was in a car, waiting for the band at Chicky’s in Westbrook, ME. Somehow, the bird crap found it’s way through a cracked car window, past my hand and the cellphone in it, avoided the seat belt I was wearing and landed on the only portion of my shirt that was exposed to air. I had to hang up the phone and the shirt was, for all intents and purposes, ruined, but this event is considered good luck, and I don’t say “no” to good luck.
The second time, I was in Somerville, MA, putting up posters for Miss Fairchild Presents The Miss Fairchild Show when I was hit square on my bare foot, in between my toes, while I was wearing sandals. This time was slightly more bothersome, as my options for cleaning my foot were limited, but I made do and, as I recall, that particular Miss Fairchild Show was pretty happening.
Well, last night in Chicago, I was targeted again. Changing into my gig clothes outside the venue, under an EL train line, I could a glimpse of something white out of the corner of my eye and felt something warm and wet on my left hand and shirt cuff. Sure enough, these Windy City pigeons were Dunlap hunting and I had been hit. Fair and square, child. This time, there was a large supply of wet naps (thanks Jim!) at the ready, and assuming my shirt lives on, I couldn’t be happier about the whole thing. You see, “who’s to say what’s good or bad?” aside, bird poop means good luck. If you think what I’m about to describe is a positive experience, though…
Summer came back a little bit. Our last few destinations, including Chicago (where we are now), have been more than a little sticky, which is “nice if you’re with a lady, but no good if you’re in the jungle.” This according to Adrian Cronauer. Well, we’re in the city and it could be nicer. JedSed has been putting us up while we’re here, a fact for which we are very thankful. That’s what family is all about, after all. But we would be remiss not to thank Bryan, because this is his living room, too. (So, thanks Bryan.)
We rolled into one of our favorite cities, Chicago, on time for a soundcheck for which we were sure we would be late. (Thank goodness for time zones!) Of course, Bessie is largely un-parkable in these densely populated cities, but we managed to find a paid spot in a nerby lot, said “the heck with it,” and splurged. Despite some confusion about how this gig was to go down, we managed to load-in and sound check with relative smoothness. Before that happened, I had to find a way to post our last blog entry, so I crouched down on the sidewalk next to a coffee shop and borrowed their connection. Sitting there on the concrete at dusk, uploading photographs and editing the blog, I was the object of not a few stares and comments. One guy thought that I was surfing for pornography, which I let him believe and worse, “Yeah. It’s amazing. You can upload from anywhere now. Wanna come look?” That did away with that “conversation.” It has been a significant subplot, though, this search for an internet connection. Most people with laptops have logged on at a stop light, sending an e-mail or pulling up the Times to find out about the latest catastrophes, but since my promise to get an update on here everyday (and occasionally twice), it has been a particular focus of mine to find a WiFi signal anywhere I can. And on to real information…
Hello Fanchildren:
My name is Moyne and as I have been doing for the past few days, I will be filling in for the injured Dunlap. Worry not, his hands and ears are unaffected. In fact, physically he is fine (if just a wee tired…) It is his mental faculties that are of concern. (Enough so that I have hope that I might replace him in the band.)
Well, the show with Lipschitz in Chicago was fantastic. Thanks to all of you who came out. We’ll let you know as soon as the disc is available online. Filthy Rich (of “Talk” fame from Nothin’ But the Bomb Period Vol. !”) surprised us by driving up from Kentucky and we all had a blast. It was great to see Ma, Pa and Sis Lipschitz at the club.
We loaded the gear into the car before going to bed, so that we could get a quick, fresh start on three hours sleep as we headed to NYC for the night.
And we did all that. P. drove first, and we stopped to caffeinate after a couple of hours as we were all exhausted from the late night finish in the windy city. That’s when it happened. Thopie (our trusted vehicle, remember?) shuddered, and then powered down. We coasted to mile marker 139.8 and called that most-relied upon service: AAA.
Hiya folks,
We’re in Chicago now, after two (somewhat grueling) days driving from Portland. We were only nearly run off the road by an enormous truck one time and we enjoyed our fifteen minutes of sleep at the Day’s Inn down the road from the University of Wyoming. REAL highlights include the Cracker Barrel in Lincoln. Nebraska and our secret weapon late-night driving music.
What, you didn’t think that I was going to tell you what our SECRET weapon is, did you?
Blew in to the Windy City on the eve of the White Sox’ first World Series in 46 years. Can’t help rooting for them, so people start giving the South Side some love. So, for now: Go Sox!
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