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| Me playing a driver excited to be starting a 2 hour drive at 12AM. Justin playing "Elvis" (I guess) |
The Nez Pearce according to Wikipedia are a tribe of Native Americans who live in the Pacific Northwest region (Columbia River Plateau) of the United States and have the hardest asses known to man. I added that last part after sleeping on one of their couches (the one I’m "waking up on" from last night). Oh about last night…., I guess I’ll start with Wednesday late or early Tuesday or is Saturday already? It’s all just one run on sentence by now (fitting for my writing style)
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| This is not out of focus, this is what it really looked like to me by about 1:30am |
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| Example of a early Native American/Nez Pearce couch |
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| This man (who we'll call "Aaron") will awaken to find a freshly made turd by me. Doesn't he look comfy? |
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| They decided to put the ages of the artist on the sign outside (for some reason). They've been misinformed about Jason, he's 31 but the George Thorogood age is correct (I googled it). |
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| Told ya Bing's from here (and Tom T. Hall still get's bored just thinking of here) |
Wednesday got it’s start by Tuesday night of having Matt and Jason join back up with the rest of us in Spokane (best known from “Stuck In Spokane" of Tom T. Hall fame). They had other obligations and neither really had much of a day off even though they were not out here with us. You’d think we’d be a little sick of each other but so far I’ve enjoyed getting to know everybody a little better. They may despise me by this point but I kinda stopped worrying bout that shit years ago (it didn’t keep people from despising me anyways). Last night I was sitting there in my "merch space", waiting for the inevitable post-concert rush and staring at a closed door hearing the muffled music of the band inside when who just strolls by on the way in to see the show (way the hell out here) but Cris Lacy. She’s responsible for signing Jason to his writing and record deal (and how I originally met Jason 6 or 7 years ago). I’d always had a silent crush on that damn girl (her being "hot", me being "not") but always pissed off at how good she was (and still is) at working with songwriters and artists (which is what I attempted to do for many years). We catch up a bit, she shows her new “ring” (lucky bastard) and goes in to see the show. The show finishes, he comes out and signs his line of new fans (though quite a few knew his single from the radio), we then pack up and head over to a bar for some post-concert party. Jason does his "thing", the band sits at the end of the bar being a little tired from the show and not looking forward to the 2 hour drive soon to follow. I drive the 2 hour, 2 lane drive to Lewiston, Idaho to end up sleeping on a couch made of stone. No butt washing showers, the pillow and blanket I get from the front desk smell of 40 years of cigarette smoke and I’m guessing that there will be no "Spa" as was in the last Indian Casino either. Tribes have their different comfort levels, I’m finding. I’m more of the Spokanian/Kalispel Tribe (i.e. soft ass) kinda guy. Here’s to the evolution of the comfort of couches (and Native Americans)….
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