Tucson

It’s around midnight and there’s no one in here. It’s quiet, and it’s nice to listen to silence when fifteen people ride on the bus. Strange to live in such close quarters with people 24/7. You think you’d get used to it with all the traveling and whatnot, and I guess I am because I haven’t really thought about it until now. It’s crazy to think that I’ve spent the better part of a decade living with, at the bare minimum, six people around the clock nearly ten months out of every year. How wild is that? And then for a good portion of that time I’ve lived with other members of the band when we’re home.

I lived with Chris for about six months when I first moved to Pennsylvania, Angelo for a couple years in an apartment, in a giant, red farmhouse with seven bedrooms with Balz and about six other people that we dubbed “The Mansion”. Accurately enough. Lastly, there was Ryan’s good ol’ spare bedroom that saved me when I needed a place to go after our time at the mansion was up.

It was great when I first moved in, until the first weekend and I heard a kid screaming through the wall at about 10PM.

Turns out the neighbors living next door of our half-double had a kid who was into Call of Duty. And by into I mean he would play for hours and hours and would scream about being backed into a corner and dying and, “Matt, I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying,” in an upward crescendo until he screams full volume, “MATT!"

And this is every weekend night we’re home from tour and I think this is also when I realized how amazing ear plugs are. Saving me from paper thin walls and all.

It was quite a bit smaller than the mansion, about two thousand square feet less, and it was considerably more intimate. With only three people, Ryan, his now ex, and myself, it felt infinitely more like a home than a giant house with random people in and out at all hours. A handful of those people at the mansion I either didn’t see, or didn’t talk to the entire year we lived there. That part of my life sucked. Well, there was a girl involved, but when isn’t there when pain that deep happens?

The people who you love the most are always the ones that cut you deepest.

Looking back, I’m thankful that things happened the way they did. If not for that sole relationship, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the absolute Heaven that is my current love life. I wouldn’t know exactly what I want and don’t want, as far as qualities in a partner go. Sometimes you have to go through a little bit of heartache, or in my case, a LOT of fucking agony, to grow and understand yourself more than you did before.

And where was I at before I went on this side tangent?

Oh, right.

The bus is silent.

People are loading the trailer, taking showers, streaming on Twitch, finding food. The typical post-show ritual. And here I am, alone in this glorious quiet with just my thoughts and a faint remix of Rae Sremmurd’s Black Beatles coming through the window from a bar a few blocks down. Quite a stark contrast from last night.

See, all the doors in the bus are automatic. You press a little square button and the door opens or closes with compressed air and sounds moderately like a spaceship. The main door into the front lounge from where the bunks are honks like a goose every time someone opens it, and my bunk happens to be right there. So for an hour and half last night, every time I was on the precipice of sleep, that fucking honking would jolt me out of it. I’m already a pretty light sleeper as it is, so usually on tour I need earplugs to drown out AJ’s constant outside voice through a two inch thick layer of wood. And even though earplugs I could hear it loud as can be. By about 3am, I wanted to break that fucking door. I sent an angry text to our tour manager basically saying something along the lines of “I’m not dealing with this bullshit every night, the driver needs to fix that fucking door” and then apologizing for directing my anger at him.

Being tired is my kryptonite. I think I get the most mad when I reach beyond a certain threshold of tired and can’t sleep. The worst part is, I can’t control it. But, it doesn’t always happen. My getting tired isn’t a sure fire guarantee that things are going to get ugly. It just hits at random times. I really need to figure out the pattern there so I can anticipate when a blowup is about to commence.

But, everything worked out because I woke up this morning and the door was fixed. Or the sound, at least, was temporarily subdued. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Well, I have 5% battery on my laptop now. I always write these things at the most inconvenient times. I guess it’s time to wrap it up. I have many more things to talk about, but I’ll save them for another time.

Goodnight everyone.

Ricky OlsonComment