Fresno wasn’t the longest drive from Monterey Bay, but it wasn’t exactly the easiest either. There wasn’t a straight shot from one to the other and we had to take a two-lane highway about 90% of the way there. Not only was a two-lane highway the only option—the entire 155 miles were the winding, desert mountain roads of northern California.
We got the best directions we could from MapQuest before we left Clint’s aunts apartment and decided to leave a bit earlier in case we got lost. We were still driving our old 1993 Ford Econoline van (the one with no heater that we bought before we went to Erie) and since we didn’t have the money to fix it before we left, we had no A/C either. We stopped at the Walgreen’s on the way out of town and filled the cooler with bottled water and ice because we had a feeling we were going to need it.
The drive through the desert was one of the worst I’ve ever endured. I was behind the wheel, and we all drank so much water that we had to stop every half an hour or so for someone to pee. The lanes were so narrow that any time another car drove by—which was rare—I had to pull off to the side because we couldn’t both fit.
After the two hours that it was supposed to take, we got out of the mountains and came to a long, deserted highway road. We hadn’t seen a single car for the better part of an hour and we had come to a fork in front of us. There were no signs and it was over 100 degrees. We were all hot, restless and pissed and no one knew which way to go. I looked back at Brook and asked him which way we should go. He’s always had a pretty good instinct on which way leads where and even he threw his hands up in frustration and said, “Honestly, I have no fucking clue.”
Clint looked at me and said, “It’s your call.”
All I could think about was the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and a dozen other horror movies that start with a bunch of hapless people lost in the middle of nowhere.
I drove down the road and went left.
Roughly 45 minutes later, we came out of the desert in the middle of a town. We were all relieved to see civilization again, but still had no idea where we were or how far away from Fresno it was.
When we got our bearings and figured out we were only a few miles of an actual freeway road away, we felt better. We were still tense and frustrated, but happy to be close to getting out of the van for a while.
We rolled in to Fresno and met up with Oubliette. We asked them how the Sacramento show was and predictably, there were about 20-25 people there and no trouble whatsoever. Figures. Davin and Ben came over and hung out with us while Bryan was getting the venue info and told us things weren’t going too well on their end. Everyone in Oubliette was getting on each other’s nerves and their cramped van and shitty shows were making everyone increasingly hostile—and most of it was directed towards Bryan.
He had the address for the venue, so everyone piled back in their respective vans and we began following them. About two miles down the road, they flipped around and drove back the way we came. We followed suit. A few minutes later, they flipped around again and we followed. They flipped around a third time and pulled down a side street and parked. Suddenly we could all see why the tensions were running high with them. Bryan got out of the van and made another phone call. We waited patiently in our van—no one was talking and we all just wanted to get the fuck off the road.
Finally, Tears of Gaia rolled up and told us to follow them. They led us back the right way and we found the venue. We pulled around back, got out, said hi to all the TOG guys and waited for the owner of the club and the promoter to show up. We got back in our van and I tried to take a nap, but was woken up by Clint talking.
“I wonder who that is.”
He pointed across the parking lot where three other tour vans were parked. There were a few guys hanging out around them, but no one we recognized.
Eventually the owner of the club showed up and opened the doors. We all walked inside to the cool, air-conditioned venue and found the bathroom. It was a nice place with a real stage and sound equipment. There was even a side room with a few couches. We hung out for a minute, then Brook, Clint and I went back outside and opened the back of the van. I took one of the merch bins out and set it on the ground, just as one of the guys that had been hanging out on the other side of the parking lot approached us.
“Hey, uh, what band are you guys?”
“Cherem.”
“Are you supposed to be playing here tonight?”
“Yeah. Who are you guys?”
“We’re playing here tonight, too. We’ve got a 4 band tour package and a local opener.”
“Are you sure?”
The three of us looked at each other in confusion and Clint looked like he was about ready to hit the kid. We walked back inside with our new friend to where Bryan and Erik from New Eden Records were sitting on the couch. He told them what he had told us, and they started arguing a little bit. The owner of the club came over and settled the argument. Cherem, Tears of Gaia and Oubliette were not the bands he had down for that night. Bryan pulled his phone out and I walked off into the little side room where Austin was playing his guitar and Ben from Oubliette was setting up his drums.
“We don’t have a show tonight,” I said.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me.
“What the fuck do you mean?” asked Austin.
I told him what the deal was and we walked back into the other room just as Bryan was getting off the phone with the promoter.
“He denied even booking the show,” said Bryan.
“What?” I asked?
“He said he never confirmed anything with me because he didn’t book the show. But he told me he did,” said Bryan.
Austin and I walked back towards the other room and the guy we had spoken with in the parking lot came up to us.
“Sorry dudes,” he said. “If you want, you can try to get another P.A. system over here and you guys can set up in that back room and play in between our bands. Like while we’re setting up. Probably won’t be able to give you any door money, but it’s better than nothing.”
I can’t say for sure, but I think I saw steam come out of Clint’s ears when he said that.
“I don’t think so, man,” Austin said. “Can’t we just share the bill with you or something?”
“Like I said, if you want to see if you can get another P.A., you guys can play in here.”
That’s when I walked outside to the van. Brook was sitting in the drivers seat.
“I kind of want to fight Oubliette,” he said.
That’s when the back door of the van opened and Clint climbed in and slammed it behind him.
“Fuck, I want to punch Bryan in the face,” he said.
Brook turned around and said, “Me too! I say fuck this. Let’s go to Redlands.”
“I agree,” said Clint.
George looked up from his phone and asked, “What’s going on?”
I jumped out of the van, “I’ll go get Austin.”
As I walked back inside, Bryan, Erik and the rest of Tears of Gaia were hanging out, laughing and having a good time. The rest of Oubliette was breaking down and putting away their equipment looking like they were at the end of their rope. I walked up, grabbed Austin and said, “We’re going to Redlands. Fuck this.”
Austin turned back to Erik and Bryan and said, “I guess we’re gonna take off.”
“Alright,” said Bryan. “We’re going to hang around here for a bit and see what happens. Maybe we’ll get someone to bring another P.A. over.”
“Cool,” said Austin. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
We walked out the back door, got in the van and headed for the freeway in a worse mood than when we got out of the desert.
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