There Is No War Without Warriors

Early day today. Parked at around 9:30am and made it to the stage shortly after, only to find out the guys were playing at 11:15am. It was like we rolled out of bed and already the stage crew was shouting at us to get going. Sleepy eyed and under-caffeinated, The Flag took the stage and nonetheless had a decent show. The crowd look like this making a huge circle pit around Stu, our sound guy;



Way to go breakfast club. I don't know how these kids have so much energy this early in the day. I mean, I'm an early riser, but punk shows usually won't get me moving until after dark. Thanks for making it worth it Cleveland!

Really that's it. Being done that early didn't leave me much to anticipate for the rest of the day, so I decided to bike around Tremont for a while. Just past the bridge into the venue there was a small side road that shot up a huge hill which I decided to go up for the hell of it, and at the top found a cool little 'historic downtown' area with coffee shops, pubs, churches, schools and a scoop shop. On my way out I saw a little bike shop and pulled over to see if they had a tube patch kit. I looked inside at piles of abandoned bike carcasses, and what looked like a former service desk piled high with invoices and bike parts. I awkwardly stood out front by a couple guys eating Chinese food on the curb till one said "Who are you and what do you want?". They started asking me about the tour, and making fun of me for riding a fixed gear (though it isn't a fixed gear, their mistake). The proprietor of the establishment, Mitch, made up for it by truing my wheels, adjusting my breaks, and giving me tips on how not to get my shit stolen. It just goes to show you; sometimes it pays to take the road less traveled.

Also today I got to watch Fake Problems, who were on warped tour for all of one day, but it was great to see them either way.



More excitement - I got yelled at by some huge shirtless guy for not responding when someone knocked on the door of the porta potty I was in. It wasn't even him! He shook the whole thing while I was zipping up my pants, and held the door closed as I tried to come out. When I slipped out, he said 'hey buddy why don't you answer the fucking door next time when someone knocks, huh?'. I pointed to the door, and dumbly asked, 'oh, isn't there a sign on there when someone is in there?', pointing to the red 'in use' sign that pops up when you lock the door. He asked 'what did you just say?!' like three times as I repeated what I said. I got a blank stare, and then 'well somebody could have crawled in there and dummy locked it.'. Not wanting to take this incredibly stupid argument any further, I didn't mention how it's impossible to crawl in or out of a locked porta potty. He asked what band i was with and what stage I was on, I told him and he said 'they don't have porto potties over there?'. Me not being over there, what would it matter? I told him I was just passing through, and took off before he got violent. So goes the story of how the porta potty nazi gave me a lesson in crapping etiquette.

Anyway, that was my exciting day. Early morning, bikes and tough guys. Tomorrow, we invade Canada. I love Toronto!

See you soon,
Max