chrisg's Tour Diary

Arrived at Heathrow this morning. I don't think I'll ever get used to overnight flights. I can't seem to sleep on planes, and the movies they play aren't great, but they're all of the ones that you kind of wanted to see but knew you'd never pay for. So three movies, some tepid pasta, and a sour cream and chive pretzel bit later (no crossword in the British Airways in-flight magazine), we landed.

Heathrow is a maze. By the time we had gone through immigration, found our bags, and made our way to where Gijs was waiting with our gear, I would've sworn we had walked to London. But the real challenge was taking the wheel of the van. Not only did I get an immersion course in driving on the left side of the road, but I had to quickly accustom myself to the roundabouts at every intersection, and looking to the right for oncoming traffic. Once you get used to them, though, the roundabouts seem very efficient. Maybe they could put some on Market Street or something, and you could finally make a left-hand turn when you needed to. I am thankful that our van comes from the continent, because I'm not sure I would've been able to operate a stick shift with my left hand.

Our first show is a couple of dates away, so our first stop is at the house of a college friend of Adrienne. Andy and his girlfriend Laurel kindly take us around the town of Farnham, getting us fed and loading us up with tea which, being awake for over a day, is becoming more and more necessary. We nap a bit while Andy goes off to rehearse, and catch up on some of the American classics on TV (Relic Hunter, Star Trek Next Generation). Interpol has a new video, but it's for my least favorite song on their album. I am happy and sad.

That evening, we head out to a nearby university, where Andy's band, Sequoia, is playing a show. The venue is a bit sterile (think small school cafeteria with the DJ lights you can buy at Guitar Center), but there are plenty of people there and the show is good. I'm surprised to find that the show is over by 10:30, and everyone has been kicked out of the bar by 11pm. Maybe this is the land where 'headlining' was established as a good thing, while in America all it means is that you're playing at 1am.

Back home, we drink more tea and engage Andy and Laura in our new favorite pastime ' learning British slang. I fall asleep on a beanbag and don't wake up until 11am.