Chapter Twenty Nine The Great Air Conditioning Tour July 2006 by Amy Bob

Wednesday 7/12/06 - Am I JetBlue?

It feels too weird leaving this late in the day. My flight to Dulles is at 4pm, but as per usual I'm all packed and ready in the morning. This drill has become second nature, down to laying out my clothes the night before (like I do in hotel rooms) so as little brainpower as possible is required to dress and leave quickly. It's just confusing when Alex is barreling down the 405 AFTER sunrise!

I'm flying JetBlue from Long Beach, technically 30 miles away from LAX but not that bad a drive (we Hybrids can use the carpool lane in California). Long Beach Airport looks like what I imagine an airport would look like on a tropical island in the 1960's. And the parking is only $6 a day. And everyone there is always smiling. Once, when I asked them why, they said, "Because we don't work at LAX."

I anticipate delays with all of the thunderstorms, but yay, there are none. DirecTV all the way to DC (mainly Law & Order, to which I am now addicted). I have to laugh upon exiting the baggage claim. Holy crap, is it a sweatbath. And it's midnight.

Matthew and Dan, having flown in earlier to National Airport, have apparently gotten lost in the rental car and are somewhere in Maryland. Eventually they pick me up and we head for Herndon - three nights in the same hotel - Wheeeee!

Thursday 7/13/06 - Whinin', Dinin', Slammin' and Eventually Jammin'

Poor sleep at best. Raised on air-conditioning in the Jersey burbs, I am never shy about using it. But this unit seems to have two settings - frigid and none. So I go back and forth all night (as does Dan). Richard and I go for breakfast at 10am. It's still gross out, drizzly now, hot as hell. We discuss his daughter's swingin' new pad in Brooklyn. How cool would that be, to be an early-20-something, Ivy League grad in New York City? Well, apparently not so cool as he tells me she doesn't have air conditioning.

Later we rehearse in Dan's room, working up Stranger Than Love (with Matthew singing lead instead of the tenor -used to be Joe), and A Week Ago Last Thursday (Dan's lead). Dan sent me midi files of his new Synchronicity arrangement, so I converted them to mp3 files and burned a CD for Matthew, but since I am just giving this to Matthew now we won't be doing it this tour. That's how the Bobs' learning process works -Matthew gets a recording of his part and drills it. When he's ready, Richard, Dan and I read the chart and we begin to rehearse. Now Matthew's an amazing study, and once he learns something, it's in there for life, but sometimes I think I must be a very bad girl on an ongoing annual basis, because, despite repeated requests lo these 8 years, Santa has not still brought Matthew a Learn To Read Music book!

Jammin Java is a funky coffeehouse out in Vienna, VA, basically down the road from The Barns of Wolf Trap, where we regularly play two nights every spring. Paul and Storm told us about this place, so when our schedule revealed an east coast opening, we decided to give it a go. The vibe is very Freight & Salvage (our Berkeley home) meets McCabe's (our Santa Monica home) - with a full bar and food. The pierced, tattooed, early 20's-ish employees are goofy and sweet: "People are calling and saying you guys are, like, famous" sprinkled with a lilt of doubt/awe... and my favorite comment, "25 years? No way! You're like, what, 25, so how is that possible?" It's totally adorable when one of them invites me to the Film Festival he is producing there this Sunday. The Tone Rangers open for us. I saw them when I judged the 2002 Harmony Sweeps Finals up in Marin County. These mostly former Yale Whiffenpoofs, cracked me up with their deadpan Gregorian chant-like cover of Wild Thing. (What can I say? When I was 15, the Princeton Nassoons came to my high school and it was all over.) The Rangers do not disappoint, including a fun NPR bit. We kick butt as well, premiering both tunes we worked on.

Friday 7/14/06 - So Many Snakeless Nights

No one is sleeping well on this tour. It's the killer combo of jetlag, over-air conditioning and humidity, and the normal exhaustion. Killer headaches visit every morning as well despite drinking lots of water. Ah, east coast summers.

When Richard and I meet around 10:30 he relates an immensely disturbing story. We're out in the Dulles burbs - lots of development and patches of trees/marshes/grasses in between. Around 2 a.m. last night, after watching The 40-Year Old Virgin (Dan and I did too, it turns out) Richard went out the hotel's side door for some air. When he pushed the door open and stepped outside, a 5 foot black snake was curled around the door handle. It stretched around to the inside, and, after Richard's initial "WHAT THE HELL?!?!" moment passed, not wanting to make it mad, Richard kicked at the door to loosen it. It fell off and slithered into the brush. (Now, Dan points out, Richard really needed some air.) Note to self: never get a ground floor room here.

As Matthew and Dan sleep in, Richard and I head out - he needs food and I need a bra. Seriously. Turns out I forgot to pack a black bra, which my outfits this tour really require. I wore the only other bra I had last night - with the straps tucked in - but when I took it off it broke! We head to a nearby Kohls. Dan and Matthew got great buys on cool shirts here the last time we were here (and Priceline landed us at the exact same hotel). Kohls turns out to be an awesome find where even minimizer bras (normally $30-$40) are all under $20!!! So I buy FOUR. Listen, a good bra is a good bra. In other "packing it in" news, Richard gets a big sangwich at the mini-mall next door.

Later, the two of us take in The Devil Wears Prada, not as good as expected, but smart and a good afternoon movie. Afterwards, a voicemail from his daughter provides rich irony - today she worked as a P.A. on a photo shoot in New York and called to say, "Hi Dad, I'm running out of the subway with an armful of Calvin Klein pieces - call you later!"

The second show at Jammin Java is equally as killer. We run over, but the band that's going on at 10:00 cheers us on when I ask them if we should do the long or short encore. Prisoner of Funk wins. Lots of folks are asking about my new skirt, made entirely of neckties. I got it in Seattle, in this funky Pioneer Square boutique called Synapse 206. I really wanted the one with the Denny's tie, but it was, ironically, out of my price range...

Saturday 7/15/06 - (Penn) State of the Art

9:00 a.m. feels so early when you haven't been getting to sleep until 3:00 a.m..... Too much road construction... too many idiotic summer drivers... and a particularly uncomfortable rental car this time make the 4 hour ride to State College, Pennsylvania seem interminable. We all keep losing cell service as we cross the Potomac, heading up through Maryland. (How am supposed to get my morning Sitka P. Coldfoot cuteness report?) Somehow I am able to read in the backseat, though. The Glass Castle, by Jeanette Walls. To say it's about irresponsible parents would be a gross understatement. Maddening, fascinating, and sad.

I've been to State College twice. Both times I visited my friend Bryan, a high school boyfriend (and excellent NJ All State Chorus bass) who went to Penn State on what we used to call The Five-Year Plan. My last visit was in November 1990, when I packed my '84 Honda Accord to its lip and moved myself to Los Angeles - Bryan was my first stop. We talked for hours, ate and drank copiously for more hours, and laughed a lot about "old times" (funny, when you're 23, high school qualifies as "old times"). I was anxious, headstrong, a fairly toxic, sad individual still struggling with relationships and about to literally drive myself across the country to a new life. Bryan and I walked down a beautiful, tree-lined fraternity row here as snow flurries started falling, and all of a sudden I thought, "I could stop here. I could marry a good friend like you and settle down in a college town and maybe end up a big fish in local theater and not really pursue my musical ambitions or my writing and maybe change my mind about kids and somehow make it all be enough for me to be happy." Clearly I didn't do any of that... but I did think it.

Cut to 1997: Alex and I visit Bryan and his lovely wife, Kristine in Aarhus, Denmark. We attack Legoland (not the lame Carlsbad, California one - the ORIGINAL one) and visit Viking castle ruins. Today Bryan and Kristine live in Copenhagen with their new baby. Bryan learned Danish, got advanced degrees in Copenhagen and when we spoke last Christmas, he said he's leading eco-tourism expeditions to South Africa. I'm playing in Penn State's Schwab Auditorium today as part of the Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts. Did he and I walk past here 16 years ago?

Our two hour-long shows are packed to the rafters and we sell almost all of our merchandise. We would love to come back here with the Rhapsody show. Plans to meet up with my pal Nick (see Bob Tale Chapter 26: Travels with Yum Dum Dip, Div Gan and Virtual G under April 11, 2005), who was in town musical directing a show but is going back to Jersey today, sadly do not pan out. Dan and I (and local friends of Dan's wife) have a sugar-licious time between shows at the famous Penn State Creamery. My big indulgence of the tour... a Bittersweet Mint Chip Shake. And as they also make their own cheese, some White Cheddar Curds (nicht mit whey). Mmmmm-mmmooooooo!

After the shows, Richard and I stand by the car waiting for Matthew and Dan as fireflies flicker in thickening air. I'm staring out over big green expanses of quad, sweating profusely, carrying the usual after-show detritus, thinking about 1990. I bought a Penn State shirt and postcard today at the bookstore and will mail it to Denmark when I get home. Back to the Penn Stater (on oddly named Innovation Park Street - how Orwellian), where I have a widescreen, plasma TV in the room. I fall asleep watching Out of Sight. The TV isn't a big deal - in fact the picture looks too stretched out. Who the hell wants letterboxed commercials? Later on, Alex will tell me to ask the guys what the big deal is...

Sunday 7/16/06 - Sellersville? I Hardly Know 'Ersville

XM Radio in the car is VERY cool. We have it at home through DirecTV. Stations like The Cafe and The 80's, and National Public Radio not fading out is great. Almost makes up for such a godawfully uncomfortable rental car... These freon-intensive rides through the inferno that is the Northeast this weekend are not too long - 3 to 4 hours each.

The Sellersville Theater is a real gem, nestled in a small Bucks County town. A former Vaudeville house, it used to show movies (some hotter than the current weather, if you get my drift), and now the Washington House restaurant next door owns it. They have turned it into a great place to hear a variety of music. Giant posters of us herald our arrival, as well as a billboard announcing the upcoming acts... wait, the Yardbirds are after us? OK... Paul and Storm, who are opening, arrive in time to heckle our soundcheck and all is well.

After soundcheck, Paul & Storm join us for a hearty dinner at the Washington House. It's during this meal that we finally learn the origin of Storm's nom de... nom, a lovingly-told tale of adolescent folly I couldn't possibly repeat. I'm not that hungry, so I don't plan to order an entree. But since Paul and Storm want to sample more than one of the scrumptious entrees, I order the medallions FOR them - and demand my fee in escalar. Later, I'll give Storm most of my dessert, as will Paul, as Dan acts horrified (see photo).

The show gets goofy very quickly as the audience is kind of rowdy. The GOOD kind. One guy sings the pitches Richard blows on the pitchpipe immediately afterwards. Another keeps requesting "White Collar Holler." The house is sufficiently rocked. Afterwards, we sell out of almost all of our merchandise, which is especially nice for Dan (who must shlep what's left home). One enthusiastic guy brings his old LPs and pre-1997 CD booklets for us to sign (this happens a lot) but when I casually remind him I'm not on any of those records he literally recoils, snapping them backwards towards himself (this never happens) with a vehement, "No!" My usual, "But you can pretend it's a blonde, like I do," at least gets a laugh (not in this case) but OK... Dude, if you're that big a Bobs fan, you KNOW I'm not on those... : )

Monday 7/17/06 ALRIGHT, ALREADY, AL GORE - ENOUGH WITH THE PROMO FOR YOUR MOVIE!!!

A terrible night... I am pretty sure that the time I spent in the bathroom from 2:00 am to 3:30am, nauseous, sweating, dry heaving and having palpitations as I rested my sweaty forehead on the cool cool tile floor was a direct result of personal global warming. Even with 20 New Jersey summers on my C.V., I'm not used to this humidity anymore. The in and out of air conditioning. The endless Advil and consuming of extreme quantities of water. And I did have that ice cream Saturday and part of a chocolate peanut butter moose cake Sunday... and I don't eat sugar anymore... all this plus the usual tour exhaustion and poor sleep did me in, I think. I thought I had food poisoning.

Out for toast and iced tea at 10:30 with Matthew and Richard, feeling more human. We discuss Matthew's upcoming trip to Switzerland (check out the Bob Tale Chapter Nine: World Wide Worb for an amusing Bobs invasion of Matthew's in-laws' Bern home), Richard's upcoming week in NYC with his daughter (I bet she has an air conditioner before he leaves), and Dan's upcoming "soundcheck" test of this amazing Oregon Writer's Colony cottage we've been offered to record at in the fall. Dan and Allison are heading to Rockaway Beach to check it out next weekend to see if seagulls will make too many cameos. It sounds amazing, but may not be feasible...

The outside temperature on the car's dashboard reads 104 as we I-76 into Philly to drop Richard at the AmTrak station. It cools down as we cross a river to get to the airport (and hunt for gas for the car) - guess that's what they mean by the ground absorbing and storing heat - over water we cool to a lovely 96. We head our separate USAir-ways... I've been bumped by the computer to a middle seat all the way to LA (5.5 hours) even though I reserved this Memorial Day weekend... must get a salad... must get home to squeeze Sitka and sleep this all off even though it's not much better in LA apparently...

We're off until September, which is good - I will finally make some headway on my solo album. I've got three tracks done and four more in varying states of production. I want to have 11 or 12 to choose from. Hoping it will be done early next year. It's turning out darker than I expected... or is it? Current titles I'm considering include: Darking, Not Gonna Be Pretty or Panoramagram. One thing's for sure - Sitka P. Coldfoot is the world's greatest assistant recording engineer/knee-licker. See you guys in September!

(c) 2006 Amy Bob Engelhardt