The day started as it always does at the chateau: Big Mike coughs out half a lung, and spends the rest of the morning re-growing it for the next dose of herbal medicine at lunchtime. Tim and I decided to leg it up US route 1 in search of breakfast and Qahwa for me; not sure how Tim manages without it… Wound up at the little tavern, where the most insanely decadent donuts and mini burgers are served daily, in a bizarre, groundhog-day treadmill of sinful tedium for the owners. Tim cracked his head open against a stop sign on the walk back - an augury, perhaps? Sent by whom, and for what purpose? Regardless, Aaron and Andy finally arrived at Big Mike's, we were able to rehearse the set for the first time (including 4 brand new tunes), and then headed out to Orion, the only REAL mecca, as far as I’m concerned. We were going to open for Cabezas de cera, who had spent the week touring the East coast after a blistering set at Nearfest. When they emerged from their van, they all looked pretty tired, which in tandem with the fact they are true chilangos, explains why they were 2 hours late. This made for a stressful day for Mike Potter, but it is always a great privilege to stand and play on that stage.
The show went on without a hitch for both bands, in spite of the heat and sweating so much the strings got slippery. I thought we played very well, especially considering we were rehearsing the set for the first time hours earlier. Preparation? that's NOT the Might Could way! I was shocked we were asked for an encore, a true Orion rarity. Feeling a little cocky, my friend and drummer extraordinaire Dave Grollman brought me back to Earth, saying he thought we sounded pretty, but bland. Too much cracker? Given where he's at right now musically, that's high praise! The rest of the evening was spent listening to CdC and catching up with sorely missed friends from another life that seems so far away now… As always, the festivities went on well past the witching hour (which I believe was around 3 a.m, judging by the local females that could be seen giving their brooms a rest along Washington boulevard).
My Might Could compadres had quit much earlier (pansies!) but plans for a late dinner were hatched as soon as the beer reserves had been depleted; a fine Italian meal was enjoyed by CdC, their crew minus one, Mike Potter, Jeff Laramee and yours truly. It must be noted that dinner at Italiano’s is never scarce in either sonic or material volume. Having said that, one member of the CdC crew ordered and completely devoured an impressive battery of food, including a 3- egg cheese omelette, 8 wedges of French toast, a trough-like platter of shrimp scampi, and garlic bread sticks with marinara dipping sauce that he washed down with coffee and coke. How he was able to ingest all that without simultaneously projectile vomiting and crapping his pants is a mystery to me, but kudos nonetheless!
We said goodbye to CdC who only had a few hours to spare before boarding the plane that would take them back to Mexico City for a festival gig that day, and thanks to Jeff's benevolent nature I wound up back at Big Mike’s feeling lightly buzzed, physically drained and thoroughly sleepless. Not in the mood for Hempel, I read an astrology book Galway had lying around instead. This proved to be a bad choice once the sun rose and sleep was still denied; I was vexed to discover I share a birthday with Charles Bukowski and Bill Evans, but none of their talent. I was even more annoyed to discover I also share a birthday with Madonna, Kathie Lee Gifford, and the messiah of the Last Testament. I finally drifted to sleep thinking maybe I should start my own religion: Bokononism without the calypso beat?
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