As soon as the plane touched down, Kieran turned around and said what we all were thinking:
“So, what movie were you guys watching?”
“She’s Out of My League.”
“Well, it must have been:
“Oh yeah, totally, you have to see it!”
We could all see how hostile Kieran was being, but unfortunately the strangers sitting amongst us on the plane didn’t pick up on it, so it soon turned into a nice conversation.
“Oh, a band? Right, where are you guys playing? And did you just play in Toronto? Oh at the Phoenix? How was it?”
You see, humans laugh more when in groups. It’s our stupid way of letting each other know that we find something funny. Separate these humans by one or more rows on a plane, and they have to laugh a bit louder to hear each other. Then, because they’re on a plane, they’re also wearing headphones. Headphones make the humans do everything louder than necessary. Put it all together and you have four people exaggeratedly laughing way too loud. No, we weren’t getting any sleep on that flight. Nor were we getting any sleep once we arrived at our destination. It’s the city that never sleeps (allegedly – it’s been proven wrong), so sleeping during the day is forbidden. Besides, there’s too many things to do. I chose to load up on coffee (triple ristretto! yee-ha!) and walk around, vaguely towards the venue.
That reminds me. “Walk around”. I saw Ricky in the lobby a few weeks ago – on the day of the first gig of this tour actually, and he said, “What have you been up to? Walking around? That’s like an Aussie thing isn’t it? ‘I’m going to go walk around.’ You guys say that alot.” Of course, I denied it as I felt like I didn’t say it very often. Ten minutes later I saw Kieran in the lobby:
“Hey Kieran, what have you been up to?”
“Just walkin’ around.”
QED. Anyway, back to Manhattan. The gig was at Webster Hall, which looked like a good location for a fight scene in one of the Blade movies. Our rider was Heineken and Pabst Blue Ribbon, an accidental yet fitting tribute to the late Dennis Hopper.
It was a good gig. This city, and not enough sleep, bring unexpected things out of us. And here’s the crowd:
Gig number two was the following night in Brooklyn. Or was it Williamsburg? I couldn’t really tell where each began and the other ended. Luckily, whatever area it was that we were in seemed to follow the consecutively-numbered-streets system, so it was easy to find the venue by walking. And what a walk it was. Brooklyn is hilarious. Harry said it was like a giant university campus where everybody is constantly skipping class. I thought it felt more like the world’s largest open-air Stuff White People Like museum. We had another great gig, this time at Music Hall of Williamsburg, which I guess proves that we were in Williamsburg, unless it’s just a clever name. Nice venue. The hint of sawdust in the air gave the impression that it was recently-built or -renovated. It reminded me of Will’s basement, but with five less drum kits.
(apologies for the lack of crowd…you’ll have to use your imagination)
And with that, we were back on the plane. I vowed to watch She’s Out of My League and not laugh once, out of spite. Harry said something about my sad, pathetic little existence, I agreed, and fell asleep for 45 minutes instead. Tomorrow: Osheaga. Two days away: enough sleep.