darling, it's tour

We had a week and a half break before we went East. Ten quiet evenings without our ears ringing or our stomachs growling. No free drinks at the bar, but at least we could kick a few back with friends. We had all gotten used to waking up to eachother's sweaty bodies in the afternoon, and late nights together goofing around after shows. We would wreak havoc on rest stop parking lots. Ten days without having to worry about getting arrested for something stupid. Snow White probably went through a similar withdraw when she left the seven dwarves behind for Prince Charming. With that said, most of my next ten days were spent at Tony's apartment. We all went our separate ways.
Joey stayed with Stevi at our apartment. Their behavior was reclusive. Gavin and Justin would call me asking where he was, interrogating me like concerned parents. Why wasn't he answering his phone? Why wasn't Stevi? Was he mad at us all because we made a 'no girlfriend on tour' rule? Did that mean that he wasn't coming either? If so, who would drum for us? Should we call other drummers we knew so we could start rehearsing with them before we hit the road? Would I be able to come back for practice?
Ten days of not answering their calls.
Gavin went back to work for a bit, spent some time with Julie, and confirmed our upcoming shows. This created an illusion of productivity on his part, but most of his time was spent in a cigarette-whisky-pot fueled blur with Justin. When he did go to work he showed up late and hungover.
Ian spent a lot of time with his friends, going to local shows and spending late nights at coffee shops. Jordan pulled his usual forty hours a week at the Muncie music store.
It was a rest. But we all new the shows that really mattered were just days away. We hadn't put the highway behind us.


Throughout the early afternoon of July 8th we trickled into the band house. It was unusually cold for July. Leaky-faucet rain dripped from the sky. Gavin greeted us at the door with black coffee. We stacked our pillows, blankets and luggage on top of the equipment in the bus and waited. Quarter past one, we were packed and ready to go.. for the most part.

"What do you mean Jordan's not coming?"
"He's just not coming. He decided to stay here and work."
"What the fuck? So... no brass section?"
"We can do without it." Gavin's tone was nonchalant, but he was avoiding eye contact and kicking around his boot. He wasn't happy.
Jordan loved working at the music store where he built and repaired instruments all day. Violins, trumpets, cellos, bass guitars, you name it, he could fix it. His gift as a musician did not end with performing; he knew his instruments inside-out. He wasn't a big fan of life on the road. The minute he exited Muncie he felt misplaced. This was a fact that we all lived with. If we kept touring eventually we would have to replace him. He didn't want to play horns in a folk band for the rest of his life.
His timing on this decision was a kick in the pants, especially with how much we had depending on this leg of tour.

In a band as large as us every song is a balancing act, and once a song is written every instrumentation is crucial. We weren't just a folk band, we were an orchestrated folk band, or what some people call, "anti-folk." You have the bass and the drums as the foundation of each song. Sometimes they are the centerpiece, but most of the time they provide the listener with a sense of stability. Next up are the mid sections, the melodies you listen to most of the time. The vocals, the guitars, the banjo all fall into this realm. Many of Jordan's instruments were important contribution in this section. When Gavin and I weren't singing, it fell back on the bellowing tenor sax, trumpets, and horns to carry the hooks of the songs.
Jordan kept us organized on and off the stage. He prevented our songs from palling apart during the bridges. After performances he packed the bus. He drove the--

"Wait...who's going to drive?" The rain started to fall a bit more heavily. Gavin lit a Pal Mal and shrugged. He inhaled deeply. There were only two other people on our insurance policy.
"You and me I guess."

But the eastern leg of tour took us through the Smokeys, to Richmond, on to our nation's capitol, then straight into the heart of New York City, then back through Gettysburgh, PA, ending in Ohio. The predominant amount of our Eastern tour consisted of city streets, and mountain highways. Also, I had never actually driven the bus before.

"Gavin...there is no way in hell I am driving that bus through New York City. I can't even parallel park my chevy cavalier, let alone that thing."

He discarded his cigarette, smoked in a record short amount of time. He smothered it with his boot.
"We'll figure it out."

We piled in with our backs straight-up against the windows, Ipods in our ears, arms braced in a tense grip on our benches, with Gavin behind the steering wheel.
In silence, we headed east.