AGAINST ALL ODDS - PART 3Against Me! On the Road
 ARCH 3: DRIVING TO BURLINGTON, VT, 2:17 PM
Bruce Springsteen commands a room. Everyone around him pretends to be immersed in conversation, but really their attention is on the Boss. They’re watching him out of the corners of their eyes. They can’t believe they are in the same room as Bruce fucking Springsteen. Neither can I. I want to hear every word he says. I want to shake his hand, ask to get my picture taken with him.
How fucking cool is that? Bruce Springsteen and his son hanging out backstage at my band’s show. Last night, Sayreville, New Jersey, at the Starland Ballroom. Our largest-ever headlining show. 1,890 people coming to see my band. 1,890 people including Bruce Springsteen and his son.
He comes backstage after the show is over. I introduce myself and tell him thanks for coming. I talk to his son briefly. I can see the resemblance. On his way out, I ask for a picture. I couldn’t resist. I might have to prove this someday. He tells me that my band was very “soulful.”
MARCH 4: QUEBEC CITY, QC, THE IMPERIAL THEATRE, 4:25 PM
It took two hours for us to make it across the border. Two hours to look at all our passports, enter our names into their computers, and check for criminal records. They fill out our work permits, and we pay for our work permits. We give them the inventory of merchandise we are crossing with, and we pay the taxes due. We do everything legal and legit. In all of our travels we have never had more difficulty crossing a border than the Canadian border. This was my first time crossing with a newly acquired letter recognizing my “criminal rehabilitation.” In the past I’ve had to pay $250 for a temporary-residence permit each time we came here to tour, all for a resisting-arrest and obstruction-of-justice charge I got back when I was 18 years old.
My throat is in bad shape. I barely made it through last night’s show. I’ve been coughing up thick yellow mucus all day long. I guess this is what you get for doing a Canadian tour in March.
Despite the physical maladies, all the shows continue to be above expectations.
MARCH 5: DRIVING TO DRUMMONDVILLE, QC, 12:15 AM
I have an addiction to Immodium AD. I usually start off each day by popping one or two pills, then I proceed to self-administer more as needed throughout the day. I have a nervous stomach. It’s gotten worse over the years. Constantly touring, constantly stuck in a van or in a venue with no bathroom backstage and the only bathroom in the building has a door that doesn’t lock and even if it does the toilet seat is covered in piss and the bowl is filled with beer cans, large shards of glass, and feces.
It’s impossible to get on a regular poop schedule when you don’t have a regular eating schedule. My nightmare is having to shit onstage. What would you do? Tell everyone to hold on for a second? Shit your pants? Please let me never have to find out.
 MARCH 7: MONTREAL, QC, HOTEL GODIN, 12:30 AM
Played Montreal tonight at Le Studio. We’ve never played the club before. Nice size, horrible sound. My voice is still wrecked, so not having adequate monitors is frustrating. It’s also frustrating that I’m doing everything possible to take care of my voice and it is still failing me. I’m not smoking, I’m not drinking. I’m even wearing the scarf that Mom got me for Christmas. Yesterday I asked Jordan to get me something for my throat while he was out running errands. He came back with suppositories. He said that it was what the doctor recommended. Sure enough the package did specify that they were for loss of voice. The codeine cough syrup makes it go down a little easier. Hell, it makes it almost enjoyable. How’s that for suffering for your art?
MARCH 8: BROCKVILLE, ON, BEST WESTERN 2:51 AM
Last night in Montreal the Riverboat Gamblers’ van got broken into. Fadi’s bag, containing his clothes and passport, was stolen. So was Ian’s guitar. The van was parked in front of their hotel. The thieves broke a window to get in. Ian said whoever broke in opened up all the guitar cases and chose which one they wanted. The asshole left behind Ian’s sweaty guitar strap—took it out of the case and threw it in the back of the van. The window cost around $500 to fix. Regardless of how much the guitar cost, there is always a sentimental value attached to it. Your guitar is your friend—sometimes your only friend. Fucking Canadian junkies.
Despite the comically high stage and the barrier between us and the crowd, it was an amazing show tonight in Ottawa. The audience was with us all along.
TOM GABEL
TO BE CONTINUED:
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| NIGNOG, on Dec 7, 2008 wrote:
i went to that show in columbia when i was 14, and ended up with a footprint on my neck.
one of the best shows i’ve been to, love against me! | | |
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