I’ll tell you right now, this is not going to be the strongest post of the tour. Before this journey is over, we will have told nearly a hundred tales of sadness, weirdness, and triumph over impossible odds. There will be diary entries so horrifying you will crawl out of your skin, diary entries so uplifting you’ll want to drown us individually in buckets of saccharine, and diary entries so incredibly useful that you will lobby your local community college (successfully) for a full semester’s worth of credit hours. Every paragraph will iridesce with the warm glow of our trademark, accessible prose, and you will love us for it.
This is not one of those posts. This is the post that comes out just before sunrise, when you’ve woken up in a Haight Street living room twenty-one hours prior and spent fifteen of those hours sitting upright in a fast-moving vehicle, three of those hours putting on a rock concert in your hometown, and the remaining balance either unwrapping hamburgers or raiding your parents’ Public Storage unit for things you need, things of great value that may or may not be there.
Today was a great day. The tour so far has been a series of great days strung together with the hot thread of human kindness and (relatively) low gas prices. Tomorrow is going to be another great day. Tomorrow is the day that will either make or break me as a festival organizer, because tomorrow is the day we descend on Seattle like four giant, dirty locusts.
I have high hopes for tomorrow. I have high hopes for this tour.