Shorter, Faster, Sadder 2/22/10

It happened again this morning. That flash of panic and nausea in my stomach. A couple seconds of bewilderment, confusion and terror. Once again I wake up have no idea where I am. Luckily, this time I came to in a comfortable bed. What I do remember is that I didn’t even drink that much last night - just a couple beers. But this is how it goes now. While my brain deteriorates and breaks off into tiny pieces I struggle to remember most nights and yet I can still recite every word to The Humpty Dance by Digital Underground. I rush to find our tour laminate that lists every city Polar Bear Club performs in. A rush of warmth and calm shoots through me when the note card tells me we are in Rosswein, Germany.

It’s almost eight AM and I hate myself for being up this early. I hate the Shook Ones and Title Fight’s driver even more since his alarm clock is to blame for jolting me up at such an hour. He seems like a nice enough dude but no one should have a Led Zeppelin song on repeat as a way to get up in the morning especially since it took ten minutes to actually do the trick. I wish I could remember his or anyone’s name but once again I blame the drink and the chemically abused brain.

The promoter for last night’s show put every band and crew member up in a hostel located near the previous night’s venue. I search around the room and see Nate in one bed and the driver in the other. I’m starting to remember checking and settling in just a couple hours before. I peer through the windows to discover outside and I’m reminded of winter in western New York albeit briefly. Snow covers every inch of the ground and I quickly realize there is nothing similar between this part of Germany and Rochester, New York. While I’m no expert on the manner, buildings in this sleepy and cozy town look centuries old and distinctively German.

I once again proceed with my morning rituals, which consist of making sure I haven’t lost my passport, wallet, and sanity. Two of the objects I still have. I trip towards the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror again even though I know it’s a terrible idea that I’ll soon regret. While we haven’t been gone even two weeks, I’m already putting on significant booze weight. Before we left for this expedition I spent ten days in Portland, gargling down alcohol and shoving down all sorts of unhealthy food. This trend continues overseas. Shows offer a large amount of free food and enough hooch to take down Matt Skiba in his prime. Every god damn day I tell myself to take it easy, to slow down, but it seems I can’t even breathe without getting a healthy load on. This happens on each tour and during downtime I get back into shape and drop the pounds. However, right after this tour concludes there isn’t any type of break. As soon as we fly home, a couple days later Polar Bear Club heads out for a month with Every Time I Die. Come April I bet I’m twenty five pounds overweight and longing for the days when I could still see my penis.

I love touring Europe and the UK and at the same time I cannot stand the whole ordeal. Shows have been incredible. People are coming out, singing along, and buying merch for every band. Promoters take care of us and cover every guarantee. I’m seeing some old friends but not meeting anyone new which is fine because all I need is my parent's cat Haley. The drives haven’t been that long but I still get anxious and my knees begin to ache while sitting stationary in the van unable to lie down or get comfortable. For some reason a bit of me longs for home. There isn’t a girl, dog, or a life waiting for me there and I don’t know if there ever will be. Maybe it’s my Xbox 360 I miss so much. Remind me to buy her something nice when I get back. Possibly, a sweater for her hard drive. Unlike other tours, I haven’t really bonded with any other bands members. Where is my Frank Turner, my Derrick of Defeater or even Mark of Strike Anywhere? Well, at least Nate’s here. He’ll do for now. I quickly tell myself to grow up, my inside voice shouts “you’re traveling the world and you have a job many people will kill for. Enjoy it while you can”. And I’ll do that today with a large bottle of lager. But for now I’ll try and get back to sleep. Or maybe the Title Fight driver will get out of the bathroom so I can finally touch my dick – the most important of my morning rituals. It's all for you, kids.