In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, the electro-rock band, Jimkata, talk about one of their crazy moments from touring. You can check out the feature, after the break.
Touring is an adventure. Night after night in a new city, in a new bar, new faces, and at the end of the night an often totally unfamiliar place to crash. When we first started touring our goal was– and still is but within a slightly bigger budget–to spend the least amount of money as possible. If you’re lucky you make a couple hundred bucks at the show and you don’t wanna blow any of that on hotel rooms. No matter how cheap the room is, its always a last resort. So you hit up family and friends in each city or you find a place to crash with someone you just met that night.
Finding a place to crash in a new town is a process that exercises your intuition and challenges your prejudice. It’s one of many skills you didn’t know you had to develop when you sought out the life of a “rock star”. It’s led to some lasting friendships and some sketchy situations. Basically, through trial and error, you find out how good you are at first impressions and learn to ask a few key questions when seeking out a new friend with some couches to sleep on. Questions such as: is it going to be a loud after party or are we just chilling out and going to sleep? Do you have any large, threatening pit bulls that might be offended by our presence on their couch? Is there a place to park a van and trailer? And is this actually your house?
One night in a bar in an old industrial town in America, we were approached by a friendly bearded man who offered us a place to crash. Throughout the night, he drank a large amount of whiskey and even offered us some shots and beers after our show. By 2am, he was definitely struggling with his words but he was all hugs, close talk, and good times and at this point it would only be a few more drinks before we were at his level. He made clear to us with large hand gestures that he had a real sweet spot a few blocks away, right downtown, view of the city, couches, beds, no worries. So we parked the van nearby and walked to the apartment.
He was right, it was pretty nice. White leather couches, glass coffee table, big windows, and just enough room to squeeze us all in. He lit up a cigarette in the living room and told us to help ourselves to whatever was in the fridge. We had some beers, blasted some music and talked loudly about who knows what at that hour.
I’m not sure what time we fell asleep but at 730am we woke up to find the dude rustling around the house urgently, trying to clean up as quick as he could. I’m sure all our heads were pounding and eyes squinting as he pulled open the blinds to the blaring morning sun. And all at once he says,
“Hey, we gotta get out of here!! This place isn’t mine!”
I don’t really remember his explanation. Something to do with looking after a friend of a friends apartment who was away but coming home that morning. I’m not sure he even knew how we got there and who we were. All I know is that we grabbed all of our sleeping bags and backpacks and got the hell out of there! Out into the grey city streets, back to the van parked by the chain link fence, and back to the highway, where we were safe.
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