The Physics of Meaning Tour Blog #3

The Physics of Meaning are out on the road all over America. Here's an account of what they're up to in the recurring The Physics of Meaning Tour Blog.

Tuscaloosa. Ugh.

If you are not familiar with our history in Tuscaloosa, then maybe somebody will post a link to the blog about our fateful night there. Well, nights. This city, and specifically the place that we usually play there, is insane. It is not the charming, lose yourself type of insane. Not that there isn't a charm to it, but it is certainly not the type that I prefer or am accustomed to.

And yet, we go.

Why? Because we are defiant. We accept a slap in the face and come back for another. Is a finger up the butt enough to scare Physics away? I would say yes, but it isn't. A fart in the face, so ferocious that it can actually be felt....enough to send us away forever? Absolutely, and yet, we return. Attempted theft of our merch? Grown men whispering to us about their boners while we are trying to play? Dudes trying to trade us oral sex for discounted t-shirts? All of this is enough to send me away forever. But I am one man. The rest of this band either secretly or not-so-secretly loves that stuff. I knew Dylan had bonerfever, but c'mon.

And yet, this time, as we walked back into the awkward, smoky bar in Tuscaloosa called Egan's, it was more subdued. We had three friends come over from Birmingham, hoping to catch a glimpse of us in some trouble, but there just wasn't much fire to Egan's this time. They seemed, like always, glad that we were there. And like always, they didn't quite know how to show it in a regular way. When we showed up, everyone was very drunk. Especially the people who were supposed to be giving us instructions. There was some dude who kept getting next to us and screaming "RAGE!!!" but in kind of a supportive, positive way. And occasionally dancing to nothing. Usually, if I'm feeling uncomfortable in a show environment, I just close my ears and put my blinders on and just go through it. This got me into an unfortunate conversation with one of our drunk helpers:

drunk guy: flllahhhhhhmmmmyyyyyyugghhhhhh...just have fun, man. Y'know?
ww: Yep. Okay.
drunk guy: Look, now. Look. ffffjjjkjkjlfljlkllllllllaksksssskfjfjfjfffffmmm....
ww: ....yeah, me too.
drunk guy: No, you don't have gout in your knee. I do. What's your problem?
ww: ....
drunk guy: Just have fun. Calm down.
ww: .....
drunk guy: Just have fun.

Out of fear, I loosened up and got away. The show went alright. We played our two sets, getting occasionally invaded by more weirdo drunks, but ultimately without incident.

I was actually feeling kind of bad about being so on-guard, when this place was obviously just being itself, and there was really nothing to fear. It's just kind of a dirty, weird dive. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, except that it's a little dirtier and a little more drunk crazy than others of the same ilk. I was thinking about all of this while I was breaking my stuff down. I was feeling a lot better about it.

And then out of nowhere, this dude reaches around from behind me, under my right arm and gives me THE QUEEN MOTHER OF ALL TITTY TWISTERS. Every nerve in my body exploded, as I had been preparing for a shock all night. It was surely not as bad as it felt, but my anticipation got the best of me. He even said, quietly, "good show" as he did it and walked by without even stopping or turning around.

Thank you, Tuscaloosa, for redeeming yourself at the last possible second.

On to Louisiana, for some of the best days of tour.

ww