“No you moron, if you go back in time you can’t just invent a car if you don’t already know how to. I mean, you can’t just draw a car and say ‘there, make this.’”
“Ok, then I’ll do something like the Shamwow.”
“Or, or, or write the script for Star Wars before George Lucas.”
“No, it was already in Lost.”
My question to the readership is, would it matter if you were in a Delorean or a Hot Tub Time Machine? And what would you invent in the past to make yourself rich in the future? A computer? A Segway? Stuffed crust pizza or fuck it, just pizza?
Fuck. Wow. Hamburg fuckin’ ripped. Sometimes you don’t know if something will be cool or not. Or ya’ know, it will just be neutral. Like Dr. Pepper. It’s sweet and soda, but I don’t really know what it tastes like. Last night was cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper. Considering that Turbonegro was holding their annual gathering across town, people came out in spades to support the punks from New Jersey. Kids moshed back and forth, others pulsed on the sides. Despite a minor setback with a bass malfunction halfway through, Night Birds threw in a handful of covers extending their standard set - Ramones and Replacements. Sweat pouring off my brow, I handled the merch as best as possible peddling T-shirts hand over fist. So cool to be rockin n rollin in a town that hosted The Beatles and in a venue that figures into DKs lore (did they record there or didn’t they?).
The promoter Daniel and the crew at Hafenklang fed us, put us up in a sparkling clean dorm and very clearly, expertly promoted the show. A bevy of drink tix swapped for non-hangover-inducing beer and extra caffeinated Premium cola for Brian and I. We were so comfortable that our bowels were able to collectively relax and evacuate multiple times (I believe 15 was the final tally). In the morning, we rolled out of bed to find hot coffee and breakfast, vegan and non-vegan, awaiting us. Let this be a call for expanded hospitality for touring bands in America. Feeding the band some decent grub goes a long way.
What night in Europe would be complete without a giggly stroll through the RDL? In Hamburg, that section is virtually walled off where only adult males may pass. But before we could do that, Ryan’s arm was hooked by a straggler on the sidewalk. He was very nearly led off into the night never to be seen again. Eventually we made it safely back to our rendezvous point where diehards and sleepyheads parted ways.
And what lovely weekend afternoon in Europe would be complete without a stroll through a fair at the ol’ fish market? This is where Ryan and PJ strung themselves up in a harness and trampolined up and down joyously. This moment is deservedly well-documented. And wouldn’t you know it, the fair didn’t have a Delorean or a magic hot tub, but it did have a goddamn time machine. This moment is deservedly well-documented too.
Last night they played a rager in Leipzig, but the author was too bleary-eyed this morning to do his damn job so that update will have to wait until tonight, folks. Gotta leave this rest stop now and get back on the road. Brno tonight!