It doesn't feel like today was a day off. When I woke up, a little before noon, the bus was stopped but the engine was still running. I assumed we were at our hotel, waiting for Jordan to check in and figure out parking. I went into the front lounge to investigate. We were stopped in traffic due to construction; we still had about 80 miles to go. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I opened up my computer, no internet signal. I checked my cell phone, no reception.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. I went to sleep with the bus in motion and I woke up still en route. Oh, the monotony of bus life, the ground hog day effect of going to sleep in the parking lot of one club and waking up in the parking lot of another. Each night you pull the grey vinyl curtain of your bunk shut and tuck yourself into bed, falling asleep trying not to imagine all of the horrible acts that have been committed in the name of rock and roll by a 1000 sleazy band dudes on the very mattress underneath your body. Just because the sheets and blankets have been washed doesn't mean the memory of semen, vomit, urine, and god knows what else is gone.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. Once we actually arrived at the hotel it was almost 2PM. I had an hour's worth of phone interviews followed by at least two hours of computer work to catch up on. I drank a small pot of coffee while doing the interviews. The caffeine hit me hard, not having had any since Los Angeles. Things got manic quickly. I took a walk around 5PM across the highway to the shopping center. Spent an hour walking aimlessly through Future Shop (Canadian version of Best Buy), Chapters (Canadian version of Barnes and Noble) and Wal-Mart (Canadian version of Wal-Mart). All the while feeling paranoid that employees were eyeballing me like I was about to steal something. Suddenly my clothes are that much more dirty, I was in that much more need of a shave and a haircut, my dandruff was that much more uncontrollable. I was hoping to find a Warren Zevon album at the Future Shop (I refuse to buy music from Wal-Mart) but no dice. I came back to the hotel with Listerine, 4 metal forks, 4 metal spoons (I hate using plastic ones) and some anti-biotic ointment for the developing rash on my chest.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. It's hard to relax when your body is so out of whack, when you have no cycle, no routine, no regular eating times other than "sometime before the show". There were no real food options around the hotel. McDonalds, Taco Time, and some kind of Canadian version of Chili's, Applebee's, Ruby Tuesday, T.G.I Friday, Bennigan's. I ate bus food for dinner, a fake ham and fake cheese sandwich, microwave chili. Drank red wine until my teeth were stained purple and I was calmed down from the caffeine. My curtain is pulled shut and we're on our way again. It doesn't feel like today was a day off.