I Wrote This Post While NOT Drunk, It's Long And Boring (That's What She Said)

Listen, I know how you're feeling. I understand that overwhelming disappointment that sweeps throughout your body - starting in your chest an then down to your stomach. In fact, I've caused this feeling before. Specifically, five years ago when Myspace still got people laid. After chatting up a girl on the internet and then meeting the lady for the first time. The emotions the poor girl must have felt when a person resembling a six foot wilted penis spilled into the room. That exact horror and shame must be what I'm putting the readsers of this blog through right now. I'm sorry but there will be no Jimmy today. Trevor is back.

Sure, it was nice while it lasted - video updates and self-confidence. Well, as of a few days ago my sabbatical, my forced leave of absence, my personal time of reflection and marathon masturbation is now over. Much to Emmett’s dismay, I'm back on tour with Polar Bear Club.

This wouldn't be a PBC tour without setbacks, crisis, and general ball break-ery On February 10th our plan was to meet at Emmett's house in Syracuse, New York, sort some merch, sleep for a couple hours and head toward the airport for a 6:15am flight on the 11th. From there we would hop on our plane, fly to America's armpit New Jersey and eventually fly over to London, England. Well, around five in the evening on the 10th it became apparent that snow, sleet, and karma would have a hand in possibly delaying our trip overseas.

In the north east part of the United States that we all live in, winter seems to last ten months out of the year. It’s one of the many elements that lead to my opaque skin tone and general positive outlook on life. New York and the surrounding areas were once again experiencing an influx of snow that was closing down most airports. When we all convened to Emmett’s house early in the evening our plane from Jersey to Syracuse was already delayed four hours. This meant if we waited around for our first flight, we would absolutely miss our connecting flight overseas to London, which for some reason was still scheduled and on time. Added to all of this was the issue of Nate not coming with us at all for the first couple of dates due to a family emergency. So while I knew we would eventually get to our destination, not having Nate around the first couple of shows was a drag since he’s the only one in PBC that still puts up with my antics.

On a night that was as bitter, cold, and unforgiving as a step mother, the Mensa think tank known as Polar Bear Club decided to skip the first flight altogether and brave the elements. Around 1:30am, now on February 11th, we all piled into our van and headed straight to New Jersey to cut out the middleman and just grab a straight flight to London, England. Not really thinking about how much it would cost to house our van at the New Jersey airport for almost a month, Jimmy decided to helm our ship through icy conditions that almost derailed the entire expedition permanently. By this time, I was drunk so I was ready to die if need be. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you’re related to me, we finally made it to the airport alive and certainly not well.

I’d love to regale you with all the fascinating details of the security check in, the wackiness that only a seven hour flight can bring, the vegetarian meal that tasted like chewy, bad sex and the sleeplessness that led to the bags under my eyes being permanently tattooed upon my face but this blog has already gone on longer than anyone would ever want. If you’re still reading this and not jerkin’ it to a big breasted African American on www.spankwire.com, well, I don’t even want you coming to my website anymore. Just know that we made it here alive, without Nate for a couple shows.

I often bitch about how when we tour I never really get to see or experience any sights other than the venue of the city we’re in. While others often get to walk about each city and soak in the local conditions, I instead stay trapped between four walls in a pub, club, or basement. I prefer this since I hate going outside, despise exercise and would rather stay stationary at all times while snacking. However, our fist show was scheduled for Dublin, Ireland. I don’t know anything about Dublin or Ireland other than it’s where Lucky Charms cereal was clearly born but I must admit I was excited about going to a country I’d never been to before. Of course, PBC were supposed to play Dublin a couple times before but for all sorts of reasons I cannot remember, the shows were always cancelled. This was the first show where PBC would play without Nate.

Down a guitar player in Dublin, Polar Bear Club played without Title Fight and Shook Ones. Chris took on all guitar parts while Goose had the freedom to roam around on stage right like a free-range chicken. The venue was a pub with a curious stage that lacked any type of lighting. Luckily, the show was a matinee so daylight through the main window illuminated the bands. Rooted deeply in the back of the venue was yours truly refusing to move or leave the building. However, I did experience a bit of the culture I denounced earlier, Polar Bear Club’s manager bought me a Guinness. Not only am I clearly now an expert on Irish diplomacy, I’m pretty much a US Ambassador on foreign policy.

That night we stayed with a bunch of local new friends and headed out bright and early to catch a boat back to the United Kingdom. By this time due to early ferry and load in times, no one in the band, myself or are driver Stan actually received a proper night’s rest. More importantly, while I had officially been on tour for many hours, I was still sober as a X’d up Jimmy Stadt at age 18. Luckily, the day after the Dublin show was a day off used to travel and hang out with our British parents Niall and Liana. Drunk on pizza and suffering from exhaustion, I showed my age for the first time in years and went to bed at 8:30pm. Boarded up in an attic next to Jimmy, I laid my head down to rest anticipating the upcoming day when we’d finally meet up with Shook Ones and Title Fight.

Still sans Nate, PBC and myself descended upon Manchester, England to once again play the club known as Moho Live. We’ve actually been to Moho twice before. Once to play a show with posi peaceniks Ruiner and once to hang out and drink beers with The Gaslight Anthem. Being a creature of comfort, this night I once again refused to battle the outside elements and plodded down behind a merch table and watched the night’s events unfold. Well, for a good five minutes I did at least. Emmett took over merch duties and I was unleashed into the crowd searching and coveting warmth that only seven to nine beers could bring. Opening band Basement opened the show and primed everyone up for hype machine Title Fight. For some reason kids choose to mosh to Title Fight even though they’re either pop punk or straight up rock depending on whom you ask. Hey, I’m not here to judge considering back in the late 90’s I skanked more than my fair share but at least with those bands there was a horn section. Either way, kids went off for TF and rightfully so. Those dudes are alright in my book, they like Texas Is The Reason. Next up was Shook Ones who as it turns out are one of my favorite bands for the last four years or so.

If you like pop punk or melodic hardcore and Shook Ones aren’t your favorite band you need to sort your lives out. One of the best bands going and the only band I’ve ever seen pull off a Descendents cover, Shook Ones didn’t have quite the energetic response as the band before them did. In front of the stage was an empty area of floor that kids more or less refused to move up in to. Sure, there were a couple sing alongs and finger points here and there but ultimately I was disappointed in S.O.’s Manchester reaction. Shame on you, kids. Lastly, Polar Bear Club sauntered on stage and showed nearly 300 kids why they’re still the king.

Finally, on February 16th in Norwich, England Nate returned to us. Nate and I try and make it a rule to never touch so there were no friendly embraces or pats on the back. Instead, Nate only asked how many dudes Id blown since I saw him last and as always I answered a baker’s dozen. One of our favorite venues, The Marquee somehow allowed almost 200 kids into an area no bigger than most living rooms. This night, Shook Ones got the reaction they deserve and Title Fight once again gave every band on the package a run for their money (whatever the fuck that phrase means). I’m told PBC played their Weezer cover and I vaguely remember an epic stage dive from a mantle. This could all be fiction since I now black out for hours after drink three.

So once again everything is good on this end. Uk kids and promoters really go out of their way to support bands and I’m glad to be back here. It’s exciting to see Title Fight go over so well on their first time overseas. It makes me with Polar Bear Club had done a tour of this type of caliber when we first ventured over. Clubs of this size would have helped us a million times more than the Gaslight/Frank Turner tour, which mostly consisted of large barriers and blank faces. However, one cannot change the past and if I could I still would have banged that hooker in the Netherlands. Speak soon? No, probably not.