I Got Nuthin...

Bozeman, Montana. It's cold. I'm bored. Everyone is just a bit grumpy and a being stupid. You would think, we'd have lasted longer than 17 shows into an 84 show leg. But nope. Tempers are finally boiling over and everyone is not thinking straight anymore.

Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's just that being on tour with the same people since September 2006 is too long. I over heard a conversation of our production manager talking about how all dates in 2009 will be overseas. 2009! We're 30 days into 2008 and they're already talking about 2009! Good heavens.

I admire office people. People who can do the same job day in and day out. Somethings are new for them. New clients, new paperwork. I can't seem to do it. I guess most people who tour can't. For us, the job has to be continuously different, a new challenge. New music, new people, new something.

Perhaps that's why I'm beginning to feel I'm done with touring. A few small venues aside, I've been in every building we're going to on this tour, at least two or three times before in the past. I'm starting to see the same stagehands. I think that's why the last time I can really remember having a great time on tour was out on Alicia Keys when we went to Southeast Asia. I was there with great people, I was treated well, and it was places I'd never been before! Granted, I went to some new places with Shakira, but I was exploring those on my own. I was treated well there too.

So that's that I guess.

We'll see when I stop touring. I can feel the end is near. Maybe as soon as this summer. Go to Paris then to Seoul with Blue Man Group and then stop. We'll see what the future brings. We've got a meeting tonight with the entire crew to talk about overseas.

Other than that, I'm bored.

Welcome to Post #100!

Yep. I've actually had enough to say that I've posted on this blog 100 times. I'd like to thank the academy for recognizing such a wonderful blog. The director for a wonderful job. Thank you to the fans who keep coming back. But I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for the touring industry.

And where am I today? Spokane, Washington. There was a bit of a scare last night that we wouldn't get here and we would be stuck on the freeway some where between Seattle and Spokane. But due to the excellent driving skills of our bus drivers, we braved the snow and ice and got here by the skin of our teeth for load in.

I, of course, was sleeping so I didn't get to see any of the slip sliding fun. But what I did hear was that the I-84, which is what we were supposed to take was closed, so we had to detour north to Seattle and then east to Spokane. When I woke up this morning, it was just a white curtain outside the windows of the bus. I got dressed, bundled up in my warmest gear and stepped outside. It was cold, but it wasn't cold. It was colder at R&M Game Birds on Monday.

The snow would stick, for a little while, but you could easily liquefy it with a step. 32 degrees (0 Celsius) is what we're hovering at. And for a refreshing change of pace, it's actually warm inside this hockey arena. I think I'll stay in here today.

Not the most interesting blog for #100. I didn't realize it was 100 until I signed on. The real reason for the snow blog is that I was thinking about my dad and wondering when was the last time he stood around in snow. Or experienced weather colder than 50 degrees (10 Celsius).

This one's for you dad.

...

No really, this is 100.

I was fooled. Somehow, I had an unpublished post hidden away, making the last post 99 and this post 100. But I'm going to be sneaky and post this before the other one and make it really 100 and this one really 99.

Or something. Damn internet.

Don't Just Stand There! Free the Radicals!

So a few mornings ago, I wake up on the bus. I think we had just arrived in Yakima. I'm not really a morning person. I like to take my time when I get up. Don't really leap out of my bed and do calisthenics. On a bus it's particularly hard to get up and be in a good mood especially when you are immediately pressed together in a small sitting area trying to pull on your pants, shirt and shoes all at the same time as two other people. Back when I was a young lad, I would actually get up earlier than everyone else to avoid having to do the dance. I still get up early, but it seems on this tour, everyone is onto me and they all wake up at the same time as I do.

But I digress...

I was sitting in the back lounge of my bus staring at the most unusual site. Before me was a case of what at first appeared to be soda, but upon closer inspection it was nothing of the sort. Where the heck did this come from, and what the heck is FRS? I pulled a can out and in my groggy state began to read the label, "FRS - all natural - antioxidant health drink."

I turned the can over and continued to read, "FRS (Free Radical Scavenger) contains a patented combination of Flavonoids (natures most powerful antioxidants), essential vitamins and metabolic enhancers. The flavonoids are quercetin (typically found in apple, onion and red grape skins) and green tea catechins."

It continues in a highlighted box, "Antioxidants (also known as Free Radical Scavengers) help protect our bodies from cellular damage and are important in maintaining everyday health. Free radicals cause fatigue, slow muscle recovery after exercise, and also contribute to long-term health problems and premature aging."

Wow, this stuff must be the end all, be all. No longer do I have to eat a meal containing apples, onions or red grapes. If I want my antioxidants fast, I'm drinking this! Why waste time to sit and chew? Pop and slug it. I won't have to sit and talk to people!

Then you get to the fine print at the bottom of the can, "These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease."

Ah, now we get to the heart of the matter, this is Fen-Fen for the antioxidant crowd. The same people who probably blow a good chunk of change on facial lotion that protects from those nasty, "Free Radicals".

I think I just like to say "Free Radicals". It just sounds vicious. Protect your duodenum! Here come the Free Radicals! Quick drink this antioxidant drink! It will protect you!

So I made Mel drink one. After his first sip, his face looked as if he'd been sucking on a lemon for 3 hours. "NASTY!" He exclaimed, "What is this crap?"

"Protection from those Free Radicals," I responded.

"Well okay then," Mel finished the can in one long pull, "It's still gross."

I saved the "low calorie" can for myself. I wanted to drink it in the morning so if it had any adverse effects, I'd get it out of me before show time. The next day in Seattle, I pop the can and took a sip. It basically tasted like tart orange juice. I finished the can and proceeded to continue to work.

From what I could tell, the only real effects it had on me were, A) I was no longer hungry, and B) I now had rather pleasant orange juice breath.

I'll stick to eating apples, onions and red grapes.

...

Guest Shooter Program

Ever since we started doing sporting clays, many people on the crew have expressed interest in joining us on a day off for a shoot. It’s not that we are snobs and don’t want to hang out with people, but it’s just easier to go as a quartet, for a few reasons.

The first and foremost, 4 people fit in a car fine. Since most of the sporting clays courses are located a distance outside of most metropolitan areas, drives are often an hour or two to get to the clubhouse. Also, similar to golf, a quartet seems to be the best number. 5 would be to many, and you’d find yourself standing around quite a bit. 3 are fine, but the shoot goes quicker and you find yourself too early to go to dinner.

But mostly, we don’t want to stuff more than four people into a car.

With one of the original 4 shooters “reassigned” temporarily to another tour, we have instituted the “Guest Shooter Program”. On Monday, the first of our guest shooters participated with us as we went and shot the R&M Game Birds course.

As I had mentioned before, even before we finished our last shoot at Oak Tree, I had already set up our next shoot in Portland, Oregon. Technically, R&M Game Birds is in the state of Washington, but it’s only across the border. We drove 80 miles up the interstate 84, which runs along the Hood River, crossed a bridge and drove to the top of a mountain where R&M Game Birds is located.

The idiot that I am, I had forgotten to bring my camera. We were running late coming up from San Jose (Fog was so thick we had to pull off the road for an hour), that when we got to the hotel, it was a whirlwind of pulling out and pulling on all of my winter clothes grabbing my “shooting bag” and getting back down to the lobby to get in the car and head out. Hence, I forgot to pull my camera out of my computer bag.

Fortunately, our guest shooter, Lyle, brought his. Here’s Lyle, Say “Hi!” Lyle! Lyle is from Ohio and is an accomplished hunter. Inviting him at first appeared to be a mistake. But hunting and clay shooting are two different beasts (pardon the pun). So his sporting clays abilities were about on par with ours.

It was quite stunning countryside we were in. We truly were on top of a mountain. The road up was just a dirt and gravel road, which had the following sign at the bottom. Fortunately for us, we had rented a 4-wheel drive SUV which came in handy because if we had chosen to walk the course, we would have come home popsicles. The outside temperature was 28 degrees (-2 Celsius) and definitely much colder when the wind was blowing! There were a few stations in the trees so it was warmer, but the best stations were the ones that overlooked the valley.

The hardest station by far, was station 4, and also the best view. Station 4 featured a true pair (both clays at the same time) of battues that took off flat like a Frisbee, but when they got to the edge of the cliff, the wind would turn them sideways and dive straight down.The trick was to shoot ahead and below them, so that when the “presented” (turned sideways) themselves, you were in the correct position.

Of the 40 clays thrown (10 for each of us), only 4 never saw the ground. The other 36 had a nice flight and hard landing.

We were supposed to start the course at 2PM, but because we were running late we didn’t make it out until 3PM. It was twilight when we were at the final two stations. Both of which were very hard targets going away from you. It did make for a nice moon rising picture with our guest shooter in the box.

All in all, another great day of shooting. I seem to shoot well in cold weather, seeing as I had the most hits. We again kept score for Wayne. He hasn’t been too doing too well.

Next days off are in Missoula Montana, and Boise Idaho. Probably too cold to shoot at either place Although I didn’t mind it. What a handsome devil!

...

The Sleep Report.

As reported earlier, Daniel Boland has had trouble sleeping on the bus. It began with waking up in the morning with a stiff back, followed closely by a series of bizarre, pancake eating dreams.

To remedy the situation, his loving wife purchased a memory foam mattress top to use in conjunction with his existing bunk mattress.

This reporter sat down with Mr. Boland yesterday to help asses the new sleeping arrangements.

Blog Reporter: "So Mr. Boland, how has the new mattress top worked out for you."

Daniel Boland: "Well, I'd have to say, it's worked out quite nice thus far. I put the memory foam down at the beginning of this four in a row and have three fairly restful nights of sleep thus far."

B.R.: "Four in a row?"

D.B.: "Yes, I know it's rather unheard of in the touring industry. Most tours will do, at the most, three in a rows. Three shows, three cities. This tour, on the other hand, has 4 and 5 in a rows on tap. Which makes a comfortable bunk very important."

B.R.: "I see, and the consensus?"

D.B.: "Memory foam, good thing. The first night it was like I was floating on air. Well, that might not be the best analogy. But normally, I could feel every bump and shake in the road. But lately the little wobbles, I don't feel. I can still feel my body roll when we take turns, but I don't think any amount of foam will fix that. We drove uphill to Reno a few nights ago, and back down last night. My ears popped, but that's about the only thing that's woken me up thus far. That and the need to pee."

B.R.: "So am I to understand that you pee?"

D.B.: "Yes, I do."

B.R.: "Very good. Anything else of interest to report?"

D.B.: "Yes. Last night I had another strange dream. Well it wasn't really last night it was this morning. I woke up at 8 A.M. to take one of my pees, then I went back to my bunk until my alarm went off at 9 A.M."

B.R.: "So in the space of an hour, you had a dream."

D.B.: "I did, and it was a pretty vivid one at that. Keep in mind the bus wasn't moving, we had already arrived at the next venue when I was dreaming. Sadly I don't remember a whole lot about the dream, aside from being in Hawai'i and meeting my family for breakfast at Waikiki beach and while walking to breakfast, I got in a yelling match with a hotel worker when I accidentally walked into a store that was still closed. I went off to report him to his manager when I was mistaken by another hotel employee as a "worker" and he tried to get me to help load in a wedding that was happening in the garden. Then I woke up."

B.R.: "Don't remember much you say? Sounds like you remembered a lot."

D.B.: "Hey man, I don't need your attitude, this interview is over. Jerk."

Mr. Boland then left the interview. He seemed agitated. I also spoke with his wife who informs me that she also purchased an egg crate mattress top and informs me that Mr. Boland plans on using it to compare and contrast. Perhaps we will try to sit with him again for an update later this week.

...

Back to Pulling the Trigger.

Day off a couple of days ago in Bakersfield. I often wonder how towns like Bakersfield pop up. Here is this thriving little metropolis in the middle of the desert, 95 or so miles from downtown L.A.. Where did it come from? Perhaps the comedian Gallagher was correct when he joked that most towns start because that's where the pioneers wagon broke down. That's why there's always two broken wagon wheels leaning on the sign that says "Welcome to..."

Maddi has another theory. It's similar to Gallagher, but he thinks these towns sprung up because that's about as far as a car could travel back in the day before it needed gas. It's another good theory. But still, I wouldn't choose to live in Bakersfield.

So that's why we got out. We rented a car and drove about 75 miles south to my local sporting clays course at the Oak Tree Gun Club. I was actually a little nervous about taking my shooting buddies there. As you've read in my blog, Oak Tree was not my favorite course of the ones I've shot. There's no rabbits!

We arrived at Oak Tree a little after noon, went to the check in window and threw down my credit card. "Burn a hole in this my man," I said, "Three shooters, two guns and 300 rounds please." He swiped my card (I saw a spark, but no open flame) handed us 300 rounds and two pump action shotguns.

This is the first time we've ever used pump action. Back on the east coast when we shot at the fancy Sandanona, and Middletown courses, we asked if anyone ever used pump action guns. The response was, yes, but frowned upon. So we had a stigma in our heads about going and shooting with pump action.

But it didn't stop us, we piled into the gator and drove up the hill to station 1. We thanked the guy for the ride and turned to our resident pump action expert, Mel. Mel actually owns the same gun we were shooting, so he showed us how to load it. We were all a little bit nervous about being able to cock the gun and get off the second shot in a reasonable amount of time, so we change the rules. Instead of launching the second bird on the "report", we'd launch the second bird on the finish of the "reload". Which turned out to be a smart move because a number of times, the gun jammed when trying to expend the first shell. Here's Maddi shooting at station 3. You can see station 1 in the back ground, and at about knee level you can see the clay flying out. My worries about the boys not being happy with the course were soon dissuaded with the first, "What a gorgeous view". What also made the day fun and challenging was the fact that L.A. was experiencing Santa Ana winds. Santa Ana's winds are hard gusts that blow from the upper deserts down the canyons and valleys. It happens in the winter when the the weather changes (hot desert shifting to cold desert = high winds). The clays were dipping and floating which made for some really funny shots. You got that sucker lined up and just as you pull the trigger, it takes off in a gust and you miss. Getting down to the end of the course which is in the valley was no different. We thought the trees would offer some protection, but it didn't work out that way. I had mentioned the battue that would dip and dive the last time I shot at Oak Tree, well this day, that sucker was all over the place. It would come out of the trap and the shooter would be waiting for it, while the other two of us would watch it sail right over his head and land behind us. We were worried we were going to run out of money on the card before we shot our 100 rounds!

There were a couple of stations down, so after completing the course, we still had 20 rounds each, so we went back to and repeated a couple of stations, this time shooting 10 rounds (normally we shoot 8). We also got puffed up and tried shooting true pairs. Which wasn't as hard as we thought it would be with a pump action. Didn't change the fact that we missed, a lot. Another great day. There was only three of us shooting, Wayne pulled a muscle in his hand so he's on medical leave for a month before returning to the tour. That didn't stop us from keeping his score though.

Already have a place lined up to shoot on Monday in Portland Oregon. It's going to be hovering around 40 degrees (That's 4 degrees Celsius for the rest of the world). It's actually a game birds preserve, so we'll have a trapper with us this time manually releasing the clays. It's been a while since we've had that.

...

Fog, Smog, Vog, Clog, Hog, Blog.

Well, I've had a lot to blog about, but I've not had speedy enough internet lately to post. I'm guessing there's an internet black hole between L.A. and San Francisco.
Is this Smog? Vog? Nope, just regular old fog. Not in London, in Fresno. It's actually foggy today as well in Bakersfield. I took the photo a few days ago as we were getting ready to leave for the venue. Only the day before, we were driving in for a day off and the fog was so thick, you could only see a couple of cars ahead of you on the road.

Why the fog picture. Well, I was thinking about what I will miss when I move from L.A. back to Hawai'i. I will definitely miss foggy days. We don't have the crazy seasonal changes like Minnesota and other northern places. But we did have a foggy season, a rainy season, a windy season. But mostly there's a sunny season in L.A.. And too sunny in the summer if you ask me. I won't be missing the 110 degree days and no central air.

We even had snow a few years back at our house in Altadena. Not enough to stick, but I was sitting at my desk and I looked out to see a light dusting coming down from the sky. It was kind of a trip.

That's it, just a quick weather blog about what I'll miss.

I've got other things to say, (went shooting again yesterday), but that's for another blog.

...

Really? That's What I Dream About?

Slowly getting used to this touring lifestyle again. After the first bus ride a few days ago, I woke up with a bit of pain in my lower back. I thought, "Oh great, a whole tour of this," but then it occurred to me... I've sleeping in the same bunk for the last year and a half. We've had the same bus, so I can assume it's the same mattress. So at some point during the day, when everyone else was in the venue loading in, I pulled the mattress out of the bunk above me, where no one has slept for the last year and a half, and switched it with mine. It's a little better, definitely firmer. But I think the key is, there's no dip in the center of the mattress where my fat stomach has been reacting with gravity.

But I think the off shoot of this new mattress is a series of bizarre dreams that have cropped up.

Two nights ago, I had a dream that I invited everyone on the tour to go and shoot sporting clays with us while we were in Bakersfield. In my dream, 35 people came with us! There were so many people and not enough guns, that the shooting club started handing out single barrel shotguns and blunderbusses. There was a line of people waiting to shoot the first station, so I took a couple of people and decided to walk to the last station and shoot the course backwards. And some how we had to cross a lake and walk through a warehouse full of Formula 1 race cars! Turns out we were trespassing so I had to run for it to a quickly closing garage door which I ended up getting stuck in.

I'm not even a fan of Formula 1. Why the heck were all those cars in my dream!?!!!?

Last night, I had a dream that my truck had been stripped while I was on tour. One day the thieves came and propped the truck up on bricks and took the tires. Then came back and stripped it completely the next day. All that was left was the shock springs and the body! I was completely convinced that was undeserving of such a fine automobile that it served me right that the truck was stripped. But what was really depressing was that I had to continue to make payments on a truck I no longer had. Then I had to go to the loo, so my body woke up.

Really, that's what I dream about. Crazy. Maybe it's the mattress, maybe it was the burrito two nights ago and the Chinese food last night, just before bed.

Normally, I'd Have Something Interesting to Say...

Today, I have no internet at my Front of House position. I'm actually sitting in the production office. Too many people too much noise. So, I'm keeping todays entry short. I normally have something interesting to say, but today is just another day of touring. Bad load in, hard rigging, and no internet at Front of House.

But here's one thing to ponder, Pachabel's Canon. That is one seriously good piece of music. I don't know if Nicole knows about this, but when we have kids, I'm playing lots of classical music. They say Mozart is good for the brain. My dad played lots of classical music when I was a kid, and look how I turned out!

Disregard last statement.

...

Prescott? Or Hill Valley?

This afternoon, I took a leisurely stroll around downtown Prescott, Arizona. I wouldn't not have been surprised to see a Delorean appear from out of no where, driving at 88 miles an hour, commanded by Marty McFly. I know the movie, "Back to the Future" was filmed on the back lot at Universal Studios, but the court house in downtown Prescott (pictured above) sure looks a lot like the town square and clock tower of the fictional town of Hill Valley from said movie.

Part 2: Blame Everybody...

If you didn't read yesterdays, scroll down and read that one first...

Today's opinion is written by Randy O'Toole:

The question: Bike riders and auto drivers frequently come into conflict on L.A.’s roads. Who’s to blame?

Will, you can't blame everything on auto drivers. The truth is, there is plenty of blame to go around. First of all, sheer numbers are not a reason to blame automobiles. We have to take a more systematic look at the problem.

I have never had the privilege of cycling in Los Angeles. But I have cycled thousands of miles each in Portland, Ore.; Denver and the San Francisco Bay Area. Drivers (and cyclists) are about the same everywhere. There are a few rude ones, a few careless ones and lots of polite ones who observe the rules of the road.

Many drivers are annoyed that too many cyclists act as though the rules of the road don't apply to them. They run red lights, ride through stop signs without even slowing down and ride on the wrong side of the road. While I am sure that you aren't guilty of these things, some drivers end up blaming all cyclists for the faults of a few. Don't make the same mistake yourself.

One of the most detailed studies of bike-auto accidents was a California report that found that 46% of accidents for which blame could be ascribed were the fault of the cyclist, while 54% were the fault of the motorist. This shows that motorists, while not completely innocent, are not the only ones to blame.

While drivers have to take a test to get a license to drive, cyclists do not. So, many cyclists have no opportunity to learn how the rules of the road apply to them. I am always appalled when I see cyclists riding on the wrong side of two-way streets. Statistics show this is many times more dangerous than riding on the right, but I suspect some parents still teach their children to ride on the left.

But it would be simplistic to blame just the road users. Some of the blame must fall on road and street designers. I have always believed that cyclists and autos can share the same streets, but highway and street designers need to make some minimal efforts to account for cyclists.

More than half of all auto-bike collisions take place at intersections, yet city planners have made almost no effort to figure out how to design intersections that are safe for cyclists. Instead, they frequently install traffic lights that change only when they detect the presence of an automobile. Try as I might, I and my carbon-fiber bike sometimes simply cannot trip whatever magnetic, heat or electrical sensors are in the road. In such situations, even I have been known to run red lights.

So let's admit that the problem is one we all share and try to find a solution that is fair to everyone. That solution should include better street and road designs, better-educated cyclists and more motorists who are willing to share the road with those cyclists.

Wow, this guy is totally sitting on the fence. He's like that king in the bible who threatens to cut a baby in half so both women who claim to be the mother can have the child. It's not the drivers fault, and the cyclist also break the law.

He does state that everywhere he has ridden, "Drivers (and cyclists) are about the same everywhere. There are a few rude ones, a few careless ones and lots of polite ones who observe the rules of the road."

I've ridden in a lot of places myself since riding my bike on tour. And he is right, there are lots of rude people everywhere, and lots of polite people everywhere. Well dude, you said it yourself, "I have never had the privilege of cycling in Los Angeles." Try it sometime, the people there are the worst. Nicole and I came to a revelation while in Hawai'i over the holidays. The people in L.A. are rude, and only concerned with one thing, themselves. We're not saying it's everyone in L.A., but it's pretty obvious that there are a greater number of self-centered egotistical boobs in the L.A. basin than anywhere else. I think it just comes with the industry. Most people (not all), in the entertainment industry have a really large egos and are terribly vain. And they become oblivious to everyone else in the world, because there is no one more important than, "Me". If speeding up and cutting off one car gets me one car ahead, great, I'm one car ahead. If I need to make a right turn, speeding up and cutting off a cyclist on the right side the road is fine, because I have to make a right turn.

The other half of the revelation we had while on vacation was that Hawai'i drivers are more oblivious. They don't mean to be rude, they don't intentionally cut you off. They often just aren't aware that you're there. I find riding my bike in Hawai'i to be a safe affair. There are times when I've been side swiped, or cut off, but it's never been malicious. I don't ride in L.A. because the number of times I've been intentionally run off the road.

I guess what I've learned, there are rude people everywhere, and nice people everywhere. And the only persons actions you can control are your own. So if you're nice, there's at least one other nice person in this world besides my wife.

Part 1: Blame the drivers

So, I was surfing the net, because Benny is doing the programming, and I found a couple of interesting opinions on the L.A. Times website about cyclists vs. automobiles in Southern California. I'll quote the article below, and then throw in my two cents. Tomorrow will be another opinion...

The question: Bike riders and auto drivers frequently come into conflict on L.A.’s roads. Who’s to blame?

Oh, this one's a no-brainer: the drivers. Numbers alone dictate they're to blame. On one of my 13-mile morning commutes to work from Silver Lake to Westchester last week, I encountered hundreds of cars and 14 cyclists. The odds definitely favor the former to be at fault. Certainly poor roadway habits and bad manners are not the sole domain of motorists, but from my obviously biased perspective as a beleaguered bicyclist who's been pelted with pens, cigarettes, coins, beer cans, water bottles, eggs, trash, countless expletives and advice ("Get a car!" is my personal favorite), the city's already daunting streets can be downright inhospitable. There's a reason a canister of pepper spray is mounted to my bike's frame: to defend myself against the rare mad dog and the far more prevalent aggressive, ever-entitled driver. So far, I've never had to use it on either canine or car operator, but on occasions with the latter, I've come close. Let me give you an example from last August. I was on the home stretch of a casual all-day group ride that started in Highland Park and went all the way to Olympic Boulevard and the 405 Freeway in West Los Angeles before coming back to Echo Park. Returning east across town on Pico Boulevard, I wound up out ahead of the pack by a good mile or two. It had been a picture-perfect ride up until a few blocks west of Hoover Street when, while I was riding in the door zone alongside cars parked at the curb, a young man pulled his sedan tight against my left, where he called me an "ass" and flipped me the finger before speeding off — only to have his clean getaway dirtied by a red light at the next intersection.

Rolling up beside him, I inquired what that unprovoked outburst was all about, and in a magnificent display of ignorance, he berated me for riding my bike in the street. His argument was that wherever there isn't a striped bike lane, bikes aren't allowed on the road and must stay on the sidewalk. In my magnificent incredulity, I dropped a few expletives of my own while telling him that of all the idiots I'd encountered in my 20 years of biking L.A.'s mostly bike lane-less streets, he had to be the biggest one ever. Disliking that characterization, he yanked his car out of traffic, ready to escalate matters, at which point I advised him of the pepper spray and my willingness to use it along with my bike pump and my cable lock and whatever other means necessary to subdue him and then to have him arrested for everything I could possibly get him charged with. Somewhat amazingly — and thankfully — common sense prevailed over his belligerent stupidity, and he opted to stay in his vehicle, where I encouraged him to think twice before harassing the next cyclist he encountered and to familiarize himself with California Vehicle Code Section 21202. We parted with him telling me to, yep, "Get a car!"

Point of order, jerk: I have one. But last year, I put fewer miles on its odometer than on my bike's. By choice. Some might see that as a lousy choice because dealing with those motorists whose behavior ranges from inattentive to outright intimidating is a fact of life for urban cyclists on the streets of Southern California. But that's where the numbers come back into play. Because for every bad Acura there are, of course, bunches and bunches of drivers who demonstrate a respectful and considerate willingness to share the road.

What's interesting to me, is that the writer, Will Campbell, is obviously a resident of the L.A. area (he talks about his commute) and his attitude is SO L.A.. "Point of order, jerk," and the fact that he carries pepper spray, "to defend myself against the... the far more prevalent aggressive, ever-entitled driver." Man! This guy is bitter! I can't blame him. I agree that most of the drivers in So Cal are aggressive and feel that the road is theirs for the taking. But to assault them verbally as he does in his story, doesn't solve the problem.

What would solve the problem is to take all the drivers, put them on bikes, and then put on the cyclist in Hummers and let them honk, swerve, curse and throw things at the bike riding drivers. Boxing day on the streets of L.A.. That way drivers know what it's like to try and survive.

But I'm not bitter. I know what it's like to ride in L.A. Probably why I was off the bike for so many years. Didn't want to deal with the hassle defending myself. That's why I ride on tour now.

71 Hours

Guess we brought the rain with us from Hawai'i. I'm in L.A. for 71 hours (I've got about 18 left now), and the forecast has been for rain the entire time. Currently, it's very overcast and slightly cold. The thermometer outside my window says 56 degrees (that's 13 degrees Celsius for the weird Canuckans who read this blog). Not bitterly cold, but enough for the spousal unit to adjust the thermostat up. We arrived back from Hawai'i on the red eye that landed on the 3rd of January. But that's not to say we didn't leave without a heart full of warm memories and a carry on full of warm malasadas.Here's the storefront of the most recognized name in malasadas, Lenoard's Bakery. It's just outside of Waikiki and a must stop for the returning local (me) and the sugar and fried dough fan (my wife). For those who were at my wedding, you probably remember these sweet doughy treats. They were the favor that you received when you left the reception. For those of you who weren't at my wedding, or have never been to Hawai'i, malasadas are basically sugar doughnuts with no hole. Often credited to the influence of the Portuguese culture, I have yet to find someone in Portugal who knows what a malasada is.

In any case, two of our closest friends at the wedding were more or less addicted to them. A favorite story from the wedding is of them sneaking them back to their room from the breakfast buffet at the hotel. You know you have an addict when they steal. And seeing as we were there, why not fly home a dozen of them to share with them.

...

One day Nicole and I will learn our lesson, never fly the red eye. It's hard not to choose that flight, because it allows us to maximize our time in Hawai'i. Take the last day to tie up loose ends or get in the final gift shopping. But it's always the same thing when we land, we pretty much spend that day in a fog, unable to do much of anything except nap or watch TV. As of this writing (two days later) we still have one bag still waiting to be unpacked.

The only reason the other bags are unpacked is because I had to repack them and put them on a truck that leaves today (Saturday) for the start of the next Blue Man Group leg which starts tomorrow (Sunday). Better to have the bags packed and on the truck to the gig and save me the trouble of hauling them through the airport.

I've been touring so long, I have two sets of everything. I have a whole set of toiletries that stay on the road, and one that stays in the bathroom at home. I've got a four sets of clothes. One for winter touring, and winter home, summer touring and summer home. Granted, there are crossover items that I take with me, but for the most part, the jackets I wear on tour, I never wear at home.

71 hours is all I have at home this time. Day one was spent sleeping, unpacking and repacking. Day two (yesterday) started with a trip to the doctor. It was supposed to be a follow up appointment for a blood test (I have "elevated" cholesterol), which turned into a diagnosis of tendinitis in my elbows (no heavy lifting for 10 days), and iliotibial band syndrome in my left thigh, which means no cycling for two weeks. I'm getting old. The rest of the day was spent at the shop pre-programming the new lighting fixtures for this next leg for BMG. followed by being stuck in traffic for 2 hours in the afternoon because people in L.A. have no idea how to drive when it rains.

Today, well, today I was supposed to go shooting with the boys, but the rain took care of that. Which is fine, because I was able to sleep in at least once before heading back out on tour. And speaking of sleeping. It's very nice to be sleeping with the pack again. One of the nicest things about the cold weather is bundling up in bed and then being joined by the cats And the cats don't just cuddle up with us, they perch on Nicole.Too bad there is no sound with this picture because Nicole is sawing logs and is completely oblivious to 16 pound cat lying on top of her. The cats operate in shifts. When sleeping starts, it's Kolohe (pictured above) who starts in that position. When it's time to get up, the job is taken over by Ipolani, who sit in the same place and meows constantly until one of us gets up to feed her. I wasn't quick enough on the draw to get a picture of Ipolani. As soon as I sat up and grabbed the camera, she realized her job was done, and she ran to the kitchen to be fed.

The only one not allowed on the bed is our dog, Pekona. He has the bear blanket which sits underneath the heating vent to sleep on.He doesn't seem to mind, and will run to the room when you say, "Blanket!" and get in the down position ready for a treat. Sometimes he gets one, sometime not. Gotta keep him guessing.

These are the things I will miss when I get on the plane tomorrow morning. But it has to be done. I've only got a few hours left at home and a number of loose ends to tie up. I should probably stop faffing about on this blog and get cracking....

now.

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Too Much to 'Splain, Lemme Sum Up.

So we're leaving Hawai'i. Allow me to sum up the trip...

Shoot.

Tea.

Golf.


Sleep.

Eat.

Dylan.

Eat.

Christmas.

Eat.

Sleep.

Sightsee.


Eat.

Beach.

Sleep.


Eat.

Clean.


Friends.


Drink.


Friends.


Sleep.

Drink.

Eat.


Sleep.

Fly Home. Sad.

...