Clear Lake, Iowa. Infamous for an unparalleled rock tragedy....the plane crash that took Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper happened in a field somewhere close to this freakin' Microtel. This is where we are stuck today. I am going to rename the man van as "Big Bopper"..because its big, it bops along the great highways and it died in Clear Lake, Iowa. Switch the field for an off ramp and you've got your made for TV movie right here.
The transmission is the culprit...slipping, racing and finally...a sound that rendered the van injured, immobile, dead on arrival. Like a blunt force trauma that sucker punched the van while Rodrigo drove and we all slept like drooling school kids in the seats. We called AAA,we checked fluids and then Clear Lake's finest paid us a visit for a background check on the side of the road. I guess the sight of 11 dirty rockers with greasy sleep hair and bloodshot eyes kinda scared the church going locals. We huffed it with our bags to the hotel and slept off the stress of missing our show in Des Moines.
Today we wait..like a patient for MRI results..crossing our fingers that something can be done for the van's tranny in order to get back on track.
The previous night in Fargo, ND was one for the history books...not because the town was in danger of flooding and we were 4 blocks from the river, but all because of one behemoth of a man named "The Walrus". This Paul Bunyan meets Larry the Cable Guy-like not so gentle giant, with a stained t-shirt that exclaimed "guns don't kill people" pawned off a multitude of double and triple shots of "whatever you got" to cowering band members in his sights. Small club + disorientation = no escape from The Walrus. He's a superfan that means well, and proceeded to tell me with tequila breath that withered my eyelashes like daisies in the heat, that he only enjoys three things: Riding his 4 wheeler, shooting guns and Bang Camaro. I guess he forgot that part about the alcohol poisoning. Alex got to see a small part of his gun collection as he kept several in his CAR outside in the parking lot..and dared him to shoot at a dumpster. Alex declined, petrified. There's only so much a lead guitarist can do for his fans. Oh that crazy Walrus.... I remember plowing through a chorus during our set and seeing him double chugging two beers at a time..they were empty before I finished the line of the song. Priceless. Fucking Scary, but priceless.
Today we hope to get back on the road and onward through the cornfields of Nebraska...anyway we can, because huskers need to rock too.