Tom Boy – CRAZY TOUR STORIES

In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, the indie rock band, Tom Boy, shares one of their stories from being on the road. You can check out the story, after the break.

Our friends drool in envy every time we go on tour as if we were taking some fucking magical sejour to the South of France. What they don’t realize is that when you take a few garbage people and shove them in a van for a few weeks, shit starts to stink.

It was 2016, and we had just returned to Canada from a European tour (which was a nightmare in itself) and we had about 4000km of road to cover across a country that is known for being sparsely populated and expensive to cross.

We successfully made our way from Toronto to Vancouver with the only hiccup being that an affair had formed in the band and it was threatening to dismantle everything we had built (no biggie). With tensions rising we needed the last half of the trip to go smoothly, but according to the road Gods, that was a big request.

We finished a show in Edmonton, it was Halloween and we had to be in Winnipeg the next night. We drove through a storm to Moose Jaw, which for those who aren’t from Canada, is basically a town that looks like its name. We rode the storm out but to our chagrin, the time-slot we had originally been given for our show in Winnipeg had moved up considerably. We were shitting our pants because of the time crunch and I (Nate) decided to drive 180km/h to make it on time. The Manitoban authorities didn’t appreciate that very much and decided to ticket me.

After a 13.5 hour drive and a $500 speeding penalty, we made it to the Winnipeg venue on time to be graced by our adoring fans (half of them who happened to be my family) and played our set.

The show finished, we packed our gear, and before we left the promotor taps us on the shoulder and says, “great night, fellas” and hands us a ten-dollar bill.

Do you want to know what the glory of the road looks like? It’s a motel that costs $200 to hide from a storm, a $500 speeding ticket to get to a show on time and the fact that you paid more to play a show in butt-fuck-nowhere than you do on a one-week all-inclusive in Mexico.

Next time your friend tells you they are going on tour, just tell them you’re sorry.

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