Hmmm, My plane ride home  is Flight #25, American Airlines from Boston to LA at the end of this trip. Why does that sound so damn familiar and why does it give me the chills?

Payback is a bitch and today I lay in payday. Locked in my hotel room I play catch up. A normal day for me has been averaging 100 plus non spam emails and it does not take much of a distraction to leave me drowning. Rock shows blog world, food, sleep, Rat Sound and adventures of life and happiness occupy the rest of my time and every so often I have to lock down and dig out. Today is that day. Fifteen hours straight with a 1/2 hour break for room service and a shower and double digit email counts. I remember pretty well what Montreal looks like from last time I was here anyway.

Not one to want to deny you at least some sort of adventure please join me for

**** Fairy Tale Time! ****

Once upon a time, long long ago gathered many friends from near and far to journey on an aero plane:

to a land far far away. Where upon they mount the grand yellow stallion:

Through the tundra they gallantly gallop

hundreds and hundred of feet from whence the stallion was greeted

where the posh and luxurious dwellings in which we will reside to rest our weary souls:

The valiant knights of infinite bravery

prepare to embrace the musical festivities of the Violet Femmes

and the Red Hot Chili Peppers

in the warm and inviting landscape that inspires roadies to frolic:

on our journey to the North Pole.

The end.

**** End Fairy Tale ****

The nostalgic

Dave Rat

WAGBTMAIIA!

**** The Old Roadie Lap Story Continues ****

With the van now conveniently parked two feet from where is was before and the battery clearly still dead, time has folded back on itself as we enter a deja vu This time though the air of frustration has boiled and flared in Kira's direction. I do not recall what exactly was said but I remember things not so nice before the amazing Kira once again set out on a journey. The peanut gallery commentary of impending death is now thankfully muted in embarrassment and with the confidence that we will live strong again, the whole ordeal had dropped back into merely misery.

And just as before, Kira disdained upon leaving and heroic upon return, shows up with two the brothers and a pick up truck. Whether it was their desire to do something else that evening besides drive back and forth jump starting my van or sympathy for the stranded punker sardines, this this time they attached a rope and pulled us to their home a quarter mile or so, away.

While the van was towed into their barn for battery charging, a pile of greasy punkers unwrapped and loaded into the cozy Christmas living room of this family's house for some milk and cookies. Warm, finally warm. Magical humans, happiness, trading stories. Pure open human kindness and as a gift of gratuity, they were given a pile of Black Flag tour swag. I still can smile at the awkward moment of decision while pondering whether gifting bright red t-shirts and stickers depicting a nun with her arm around a naked male leg and the words "Slip It In," was going to be properly appreciated by the family that saved us, on Christmas eve day.

**** End Old Roadie Lap Story - The Frozen Van ****

I did not leave my hotel room till noon and that was just to get coffee. The five am lobby call occurred some 2 hours after I finally got to bed after an adventurous and as you may have noticed, fairly rare, night on the town. A night out with friends and hanging and talking. I guess it is kind of like nearly every other night out here except it was not at a rock show and not on a tour bus. Anyway, in a last minute epiphany, I inquired if there was a spare seat on the band's chartered jet. Though I did feel a wave of guilt abandoning my comrade roadies, it was too tempting to resist. Of all the ways to travel, I must say that this is high on the list. On this tour, the band party has mostly traveled by bus/commercial air but with the awkwardness of the fly schedule the crew is currently experiencing, the chartered jet makes sense. Those hopefully these planes are not what we will be flying:

And though very fast, I think the fact that this jet would have to make several trips makes it an unlikely contender, though the missiles I guess could come in handy:

but further on down the road was this baby. As seen in this post flight photo you can check out the modern day flying van that made for a much more pleasant cross Canada trip than the old days:

The enjoying alternate travel methods,

Dave Rat

**** The Old Roadie Lap Story Continues ****

It was one of the most awkward moments in memory. Amazing how the ponderment of freezing to death can turn a normally fairly cheery group into grumps. Bits of blame get tossed around ranging from questioning the wisdom of turning off the van, the chosen parking region and whether the van battery was charged or old and even mentioned was wonderment of whether it was a great idea to tour Canada in the winter. Finally, like no tough punker male in the van would do, Kira announces that she can see a dim light in the distance and is going to try and hike over there. The feeling of relief that a solution could be at hand mixed with thoughts that someone other than the tiniest human we have to offer to the elements should be making the trek. The logic that turning off the van was not the best idea seemed to solidify her task at hand and none volunteered to join or replace her on the journey.

Some watched the little Kira in the moonlit darkness getting smaller and smaller as she hiked in knee deep snow across the field until she vanished. I laid there rebundled regretting not having a proper sleeping bag. The next thing I remember is headlights coming. Two brothers hop out of pickup truck with jumper cables. And after some charging time, the van sparks back to life. Heroic Kira has saved us all. And off goes the truck into the icy night. After a short while of letting the van run for a bit, I feel the van move forward and off we go. About two feet that is before the engine dies. Clickity clickity clickity is the sound of absurdity.

**** Stay tuned for the heart warming final segment of this Old Roadie Lap Story coming soon! ****

The shows of late have been consistently smooth and in the upper range of rock shows to see and each with its own nuances that make it special. I avoid rating specific shows as to do so would impose my skewed perspective. I also avoid judging the sound of the show and try and stick to focusing on whether one one venue is more challenging than the next and leave the opinion of the success or failure of my task up to others to determine. All that said, I have been enjoying the shows and again tonight I feel pretty darn good about the rock show. Lights, video, sound, and the comfort and energy from the band have all been very cool.

I was happy that was until I heard that two amp racks fell off of a fork lift while getting loaded into the sound truck. Ouch! One had four Crown amps at 80 pounds each and the other was loaded with eight Lab Gruppen amps at 22 pounds each. Four hundred pounds dropping from a fork lift generally means a whole lot of not good. With twelve amps buried in a truck for an overnight drive existing in a questionable state of function, my concern is only match by my compassion for the poor little amp racks with big ouch's. I wish I had gotten some time to console them before they were loaded but that will have to wait till the next show.

All I have for you picture wise is a quick pic snapped of the after show walk out. The "T" you see sticking out of the mixing board is two SM98's that we use for recording audience mics to the Pro Tools rig.

And finally, if there is any curiosities or roadie stories that you would like me to share or cover, fire away with requests and I will see what I can do!

The worried about the poor amp racks,

Dave Rat

TWIFWYTIMGTMO!

I new city, hurray! At this point in my touring career, actually doing a show in a new city is few and far between. Actually having a day off in one is rare indeed. Though Saskatoon is not renown as an epicenter of excitement, no city is without it's share of surprises. Finding them, now that is the challenge. Furthermore, the fact that people in Edmonton were making fun of the Saskatoonians was not a good sign. One local actually told roadie Scott a joke that went something like "Saskatoon is flat, in fact it is so flat the if your dog runs away in Saskatoon you can still see running for ten miles." Not sure why or if that is funny other than the smiling at how being less flat seems somehow to be an advantage Edmontonians are proud to posses.

After a quick glance around at the available things to do, nothing really pops out. Let's see, movie theater across the street, a few restaurants, plenty of bars, a pawn shop, a 200 foot long three story high water slide inside the hotel and a walking park at the river nearby. Hmmmm, nothing out of the ordinary here. Nothing to see folks, keep moving on. Wait, did you say water slide? Well of course, why wouldn't there be a water slide inside the hotel?

Like dogs running away from Saskatoon, Nick the Fly and I make a beeline for the merriment.

And check this out:

Here you can see NTF bored to death as he is propelled by gravity and warm water at breathtaking speeds:

And I, of course was helpless to resist the fun:

After about fifteen trips up the three flights of stairs like a couple of ten year olds, Nick the fly and I were worn out and had a wonderful day off in Saskatoon!

The always serious

Dave Rat

IBYTYCMMS!

Look! All I can say is wow! It is stunning out there!

The drive is amazing. Our driver, roadie Brian rules! Really moves the bus from city to city fast, safe and smooth.What also rules is the fine bus food cuisine that we were so fortunate to have bestowed upon us.

Clearly we are loved and appreciated and the desire to have a bus full of happy healthy well fed roadies is of very high importance. I opt for the potato and as my breakfast veggie of choice to go along with my coffee:

While roadie Daniel clearly prefers a crisp corn treat to start his day:

Home is stupid, I love the road! And that chilly snow covered Canadian tundra brings back yet another Black Flag story, booooriiing! Gather round for:

**** Begin Old Punker Lap Story ****

Lets slide back in time 22 years to the Orwellian year of 1984, December 23rd we are in Winnipeg, Canada. A band of grubby punkers are wrapped in every piece of clothing that is stench free enough to bundle in. As Southern Californians we are experiencing a new definition of the word cold and the wind chime sounds of my long and formally wet hair has turned to icicles. Per diems are $ 80 a week and that means I have just over 11.00 US dollars a day to buy food toothpaste and socks. Hmmmm, why are there power plugs hanging from the front of cars? Yesterday was what we called a day off and all we did was drive 750 miles through snow straight after the gig.

Last night was a good night. I actually slept in something other than a moving van with 7 people cocooned on the floor. Though I can't recall where exactly that was, typically on most non-driving nights found us piling onto the floor of some beer drenched party house where the local punk rockers and friends were all excited to have a Black Flag slumber party. Their local punker excitement was not quite matched by the drained, sweaty and exhausted touring party of 13 or so. They cranked up the tunes and drank exuberantly, we passed out immediately. Upon arrival at each new sleep house, some of us sprinted to share available beds, some relegated to open floor space. Me? well, I figured out a plan early on that having my own room was best so I would seek out bedroom closets and slept right on top of what ever was in there, shoes, boxes and all. Though always lumpy, it reduced the odds of a dog licking of my face all night, it was generally quieter, darker and I usually got fewer flea bites.

Christmas Eve day and we are on 900 mile mid-winter cross Canada trek to Edmonton. Tour planning at it's all time best. I had heard someone was saying 60 below wind chill factor, most likely an exaggeration and it was only 30 or 40 below plus I don't know whether there was a C or F after the temperature it but does it really matter at that point anyway? What did matter was that the large truck stop cup of coffee had frozen solid wile sitting on the engine cover inside the van with the heater cranked to full. What also mattered was that Kira, Black Flag's bass player and the current van driver, really needed to go to the bathroom and there had not been a sign of life on the frozen pitch black icy night road forever in either direction. It was when she pulled off the highway at farm road off ramp as we all lay in various states of frozen delirium and that things began to look less cheery.

To be continued...

**** End (for now) Old Punker Lap Story ****

And you know what? It aint so bad eating chips for breakfast with actually hot coffee on a cozy tour bus!

The past I would not trade away while appreciating the present,

Dave Rat

ICNWTSYMLB!

I love Canada! I love the large clean open spaces, I love the friendly warm natured feel that seems to radiate from the nearly all that I meet here. I love the laid back attitude towards life and I do not love the border crossing. We used to joke that getting into Russia is easier than driving north over the border. But it is no joke. There are few countries more difficult to enter for a US citizen on the planet earth than the homeland of our close and friendly Canadian brothers. I have spent many a 4 am morning shivering in a parking lot as our bags are rifled through as they give their pet drug puppies a private tour of our bus. I think next time I will hide little dog treats in various locations just for fun.

Canadian border patrol has has developed a two part plan for effective border control:

1) If a person has done anything wrong ever, make them wait as long as possible and try and make them pay as much money as possible to get into the country. With bus full of traveling nuns, this may not be an issue but shocking as it may be, many roadies and musicians often do not have perfect pasts. Be that as it may, any violation such as a misdemeanor traffic citation or DUI could mean a 4 hour wait or even denial into the country.

2) Regardless of how many times you have been allowed into Canada before, always start from scratch at the last minute while the person is at the border and offer no method of allowing people to pre apply or effectively prepare. I heard that on The Warped tour traveling with 20 or more busses, they called ahead to the Canadian border well in advance "we will be arriving with several hundred people late at night," provided the time, the names, the passports and everything. So arriving at the crossing to find two graveyard border officials on duty and fully prepared to start processing the roadies one by one, from scratch, of course fits right in with the Canadian immigration strategy.

There also is and added bonus of keeping the anticipation level up by letting whomever is on duty at the time have total discretion over the misery level of the border-crosser involved. Fortunately, I am not one of the humans that got harassed, unfortunately the border antics effect us all. Though I personally do not partake, the whole thing is especially amusing when you realize that preventing someone from bringing drugs into Canada from the US is about as ingenuous as setting up checkpoints to stop people from bringing sand to the beach.

All that said, now that I have made it into Fort Canada, I remember why it is so heavily protected, it is truly beautiful here and maybe the underlying plan of preventing Americans from coming over has some merit.

The appreciative of many lands,

Dave Rat

IWTYTYYDLFP!