We woke up early in Glasgow and went to the ‘complimentary breakfast’ that our hotel served, which was essentially a stack of slices of white bread and some real shitty looking granola. Everyone in this place who was eating was young, filthy and “backpacking around Europe.” I was overwhelmed by the general overload of cheesedicks in sandals, round glasses and ponytails, and the accompanying nerdy girls exploring their sexual awakening/first foray into accessing random cocks. We got some to-go coffees and headed to the train station where we both ate lox and cream cheese on poppy seed bagels. Those sandwiches were unusually spectacular for some reason. We boarded our train, and that’s kind of where my memory ends as far as our transit to London goes. I seem to recall that it was somewhat crowded but not unbearable. My best guess here is that I read my book (Storm of Swords) and looked up at Dan every 45 minutes or so and said “Damn! Motherfuckers are dying like crazy up in here!” while he politely pretended to not be completely bored and annoyed by this behavior. Dan had just finished the Hunger Games and was trying to attempt to once again read what I was calling his ‘great white whale of a book’ (due to the fact that he’s started it several times to no avail), Moby Dick by Herman Melville.

At Paddington in London, we switched to the Tube and made our way over to the Borderline.  We showed up early, took in the awesome innerworkings of the club, including the gorgeous headlining backstage room and the Ukrainian-prison-style backstage rooms for the support acts before heading out to get some sushi.

Dan and I had a real date for a change…no drinking and cussing, just two consenting adults eating overpriced sushi at a tiny table. I had 2 pieces of salmon and a spicy sea bass roll while Dan had 2 pieces of salmon and some sort of crazy crunchy tempura sensation. Overall, it was great. After that we went and bought some more guitar strings from a big, extremely handsome black dude who should have probably been leveraging his looks and size to get a better job than counter guy at the guitar store, but whatever. His life. Maybe he just loves music-themed commerce THAT much.

Anyway, we went back to the club where we soundchecked and generally acted a lot more fussy about things than usual due to the fact that the venue was so nice and it was all sold out. We were, and perhaps I’m only speaking for myself here, but I think we were excited at the prospect of seeming somewhat professional for once. It was a nice change of pace from me farting into the microphone so Dan would have to sing into my farts all night and that kind of thing.

We met up with Tom, the guy who booked the tour as well as Sam and some of his buddies and we decided to head out and get a drink. We walked down the street to some underground Mexican themed bar, and there was a group of women taking a fucking Zumba class in there. I mean, I can’t overstate this weirdness. Here is a bar, full of tequila and beer and redbull and all sorts of bullshit, and over here are a bunch of 38 year old moms, with their wide asses slathered into yoga pants doing a goddamned Zumba class underneath a disco ball. It was 4 in the afternoon. The bar was open. We all ordered beers and marveled at the wonderfully weird world around us.

We’d been hoping to eat at that bar, AND we’d been hoping to sit outside, but intermittent drizzling and a closed kitchen kind of fucked up our program a bit, so after a beer and a lil’ Zumba, Dan and I headed across the street to a pizza place where we got identical slices of green pepper and pepperoni pizza-like food items from some dudes of remarkably indeterminate ethnicity who for some reason didn’t charge us any money. By this point, I was getting texts from my buddy Ryan (of American Steel fame) and his wife Lycia who were in town to begin a mystical Eurotic journey of their own. We headed back over to the club and settled into some hanging out. Sam and his buddy Adam were there, along with Lycia and Ryan. Adam said we could stay at his apartment which was the top floor of a 20 story building (that’s incredibly tall by London standards, folks) and not only would we have roof access, but he had a roommate who was a model for Loaded magazine which is a UK version of Maxim. Sounded pretty okay to us.

By the time Sam started, the club was jam packed. After a long and very nice speech about how he had just finished the best week of his life, peppered with sweet superlatives about his amazing tourmates (that’s me and Dan, y’all), he said, wistfully “…and now it’s all coming to an end, and I’ve gotta go back to work tomorrow. And I’m a rapist.” The implication of the joke, I think, is that a sweet, charming soul like Sam really hates his job as a rapist because it goes against everything he holds dear, and I’m sure the benefits are terrible and all that…but I’ve got a real history of missing the point when it comes to this stuff. Point is, that sad little rapist really brought the house down with his genuine emotion, spectacular good looks, comedic chops and (as usual) amazing voice.

I got up next and played to a real cool audience, told some jokes (nothing as racy as old Sir Rapington Digglesworth III’s little zing, but you know…good shit nonetheless) and then hung out to watch Dan, even though the only place I could really watch him from was behind a load bearing beam, due to the packed nature of the room.

After the show, Sam, Adam, Dan and I said goodbye to Ryan and Lycia and headed back to Adam’s place. We proceeded to sneak onto his roof, breaking a broom and perhaps the door in the process, where we took pictures and drank whiskey for a while. We headed back down to the apartment and after checking out Adam’s awesome sketchbook, Dan curled up on this tiny loveseat, I hit the floor next to him and Sam crashed in the kitchen.

I was almost asleep when I suddenly had to get up to pee. Historically, I’m a light sleeper and this kind of thing really ruins my night of sleep. If I pass out for under an hour and then get woken up, I’m fucked for the night. I peed and then returned to the floor where I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. Just as I FINALLY dozed off after hours of restlessness, I wake up to people standing over me shining a flashlight in my eyes. I shot bolt upright in sheer terror. I thought I was being raided by a swat team or something, but it was actually just three totally hammered girls standing above me giggling (I was listening to static on noise cancelling headphones, so the initial rude awakening was one of the most discombobulated moments of ‘consciousness’ I’ve ever indulged in) and saying shit like “Who are you? What’s the name of your punk band?” I, keep in mind, am just in my underpants on a floor that didn’t skimp on the filth, if you get my meaning.

These girls start dancing around Dan’s sleeping form and I know, I KNOW that if they wake him up, he’s gonna be a completely unpleasant sumbitch all day the next day, as it was already gonna be long and grueling enough and I was obviously already going into the whole thing sleepless, which was gonna suck yet ANOTHER dog dick. SO, I begged them to PLEASE just not wake him up, but by this point I’m up. My adrenaline is pumping from what I thought was an abduction and to smear some more shit into the wound, I’ve gotta pee again, desperately. Of course, however, you know what three hammered girls do when they get home at 530 in the morning? Dick around in the bathroom for another hour. By this point it was clear that I’d not be sleeping again, but the house has people sleeping in every room (Sam is even blocking the fridge, so there wasn’t even a chance to grab a beer or something) so I just kind of laid there, holding in my pee and staring at the ceiling until, miraculously, I fell asleep around 7 and caught a real tight catnap until about 730.

I guess that’s where this entry ends, because by 730 it was officially tomorrow and we were bound onto the chunnel train where we’d shoot through the UK’s swollen colon and burst out the other side like so many spicy nachos all over France. Get stoked, because this is where this shit starts to get weird.