Northern Exposure

So it's been two full weeks since the shows in Arizona. Right now I'm in a van somewhere in the middle of Michigan, heading to Petosky (on the very northern tip of the Michigan "mitten").

To be honest, I'm having difficulty remembering where I've been and what I've done the past two weeks. That probably sounds weird. I guess you could call it "tour amnesia": when one just can't remember where they went to bed. It's taking so much brain power to recall where I've just been...Lexington (MI), Wisconsin Rapids (WI), Kenosha (WI), Wilmette (IL)...and before that...somewhere in the South...oh, and Ohio. I'm on a rooming rotation with some of the guys in the band, and there are days when it'll take me a good thirty seconds to remember with whom I was sharing a room when I woke up.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. Just a little flavor of what it's like to be "on tour."

I'd like to share the story of Kenosha. There have been, as far as I can recall, two situations thus far where we've arrived at a venue and I realize, "Whoa...I've played here before...?" One of these was in Michigan earlier this summer (The Palace at Auburn Hills), and the other was a few nights ago in Kenosha. Last year, the show in Kenosha was memorable for the following reason: I threw my bow TWICE during the sword-fighting section of "Rasputin," and dropped it a THIRD time later in the song. Talk about ridiculous! Fortunately, it was one of those really hilarious moments that only occurs in live performance.

So this year when we arrived at the theatre and I experienced tour déjà vu, my next thought was, "I hope tonight's show isn't as ridiculous as last year's!"

I thought too soon.

The whole show went swimmingly--until the final song. It was the final 5 seconds of the tune, and I jumped up into the air to do the splits. I wanted to make the splits extra flat and extra high, so I jumped with every ounce of power my legs could muster. In my zealous thirst for over-achievement, however, I forgot to take into consideration the slipperiness of the stage.

Whoops.

I landed. Poorly. And then slipped and fell backward onto my you-know-what.

[Cue raucous laughter by not only myself, but also the whole band and the audience.]

It's definitely those moments that keep the show fresh, exciting, and freaking hilarious. You never know when something just absurdly ridiculous is going to happen. The best part, too, is when the whole audience witnesses the hilarity as well. A good time is, for sure, had by all.

I experienced no severe injury. Ironically, I must have even done something well in my fall: one audience member went so far as to describe it as "graceful," which would probably explain why more than one audience member asked me if it was intentional. Hah!

I guess it's kind of like Woody describing Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story? "That wasn't flying! That was...falling with style!" Yeah...something like that.