Bitchin’ van

1992 again, still crammed in the van with Seam.  Twenty-two years ago, yesterday and today, we’re in Austria, and sharing the bill with us is the Dead Milkmen.  We’re not happy about it and not shy about our unhappiness, and from the vantage point of today it’s hard to come up with a good reason why, other than it’s easier to complain about someone else than each other.  At least we’re funny on the subject: Sooyoung puts up a countdown calendar in the van, each page with its own Dead Milkmen trivia question (e.g., Q: Can you name all four members of the Dead Milkmen?  A: No.).  Naturally, when we actually do the shows together, it couldn’t go smoother.  They’re disarmingly nice, and we feel terrible about everything we’ve said about them.  And then the next morning, I really feel terrible, waking up with an intense back pain that I’ve never had before or since, and can therefore only attribute to karma.  Sitting in our van for the ride from Vienna to Ebensee is out of the question, so I start looking into taking a train, and standing the whole way.  Dead Milkmen to the rescue–their van has a loft.  Somehow managing to hoist myself into it, I can lie down, a much less painful proposition.  As uncomfortable as our sardine can has been, it’s nevertheless a very strange experience being separated from Georgia and the team.  I have no memory of how I made it through the set that night, though it must have been a challenge, since for the only time on the tour, our encore is comprised of a single song.