Yesterday was one of the most enjoyable days of the tour.

It started around noon (as most days have these last few months.. I contend that I have faithfully stayed on West Coast time this entire tour) with an enjoyable brunch across the table from the Nectar God himself, Jack Mahaffy. We went to a small bagel shop near the corner of 3rd and Ave A in the East Village. In a departure from the norm (wakey wakey eggs and bakey = two eggs over medium, bacon, home fries, dry wheat toast), I ordered a glorified bowl of oatmeal, which I enjoyed, like pancakes, for the first few bites (I’ve never quite understood oatmeal in bowl-sized quantities.. it gets so boring.. I imagine that people who are good at repetitive tasks like oatmeal).

We all met at the van around 2pm for the drive up to Hartford, where we were going to see what is undisputedly Speechwriters LLC’s favorite band, the We Are Scientists (Nitzan might dispute this, but SWLLC is a mass democracy with no protection for the minority). Along the way, we stopped in New Haven to pick up my best friend from college, the 6’8″ mustachioed Big Ty, which means that I had to squeeze between the captain seats and ride on a pile of sleeping bags and pillows (very unsafe.. sorry mom).

When we got to the venue (the Webster Theatre), WAS was no where to be found. After a journey to a local supermarket to buy plaintain chips and 8oz budweisers (the best type of beers to sneak into a venue illegally), we found the renegade Scientists and got to catching up.

Dave and I have had man-crushes on these guys for the last four years. In addition to being subversively humorous (see: wearescientists.com), they are also impeccably styled (see: wearescientists.com), casually articulate (see: wearescientists.com), and *real good* at music (see: wearescientists.com).

The Scientists opened for the Hot Hot Heat with another band in between them, but, like a good sandwich, it was all about the bread. For their part, the Hot Hot Heat definitely pleased their fanbase, but I would say (subjectively perhaps, but all the same) that WAS stole the show.

The night involved many shennanigans, including shooting BB guns, drawing dirty pictures on the dressing room walls, drinking a few too many 8oz beers, and converting more indiehipster musicians into Nickelback fans.

Ah, I’ll miss the road.