"Every trail has some puddles." - Old West Saying
Woke up at 8:00 AM rolling around in the bunk. It was dark, someone must have remembered to turn the overhead light off last night. I seem to have lost my socks in the night, I assume they are on top of Ian in the bunk below right now, I'll get them later when he wakes up. 600 mile trip from Salt Lake City, so the bus is still moving. John, the driver (also former touring country drummer and extremely nice fella from Louisiana) has had a cough for a week or so now. I hear him up front hacking away. Hope he'll be alright.
The view rolling into Denver area is pretty. Big, blue sky peppered with clouds. Far off to my right are the snow capped rocky mountains. In the closer view are farms, small towns, old silos and mills, new micro condos and assorted rural businesses. The ground looks pretty dry, bet it hasn't rained much around here recently. But it's the view I'm accustomed to seeing around here, beautiful rolling green hills for miles heading to the base of the vast mountain range. It's unique to this place, and I'm lucky for knowing it.
The front lounge of the bus is empty and quiet. Only leavings from last nights post show activities. In sight are 3 backpacks, coats and hats, the floor has maybe 6 pairs of shoes. All black and ironically all Doc Martens or Vans, I suppose even the non-conformists conform. The table is littered with chargers, papers, wrapped pastries from the nice lady in Seattle who cooked an insane amount of food for us. There is also a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles book, the PS4 equipped with 4 controllers for optimal FiFA use and some floater water bottles.
I took some of those floaters and poured them into the Kuerig machine for coffee. I ate after the show last night, so it's daring having a coffee while we are still driving and before I'd had my morning poop. The great tour conundrum ensues, what to consume versus when/where I can empty the tank.
Everyone is still sleeping, I wonder how long this can last. It's only a matter of time before somebody slips through that door and begins their morning. Some brush their teeth, some eat cereal, some go straight to coffee machine. But I'll soon be distracted by the flow of the herd, it's inevitable.
My ears are popping, hitting in and out of elevations. This coffee might have been a bad idea, the turtle is poking and no idea how long we get to Denver. On top of that, no idea if the venue will be open or if I'll be left, as I often am, to wander the streets looking for anywhere to poop. In a cruel twist of fate, I may have to purchase another small coffee for the privilege to sit.
And so it begins, the herd has risen. Marv at the sink brushing his grill while two others check their phones. I'm distracted now, but glad I got to write this. People say write what you know, the most unique thing about my life is this traveling musical circus and the methods and customs of its inhabitants. So, that's a tour bus morning.
