I drive to Jacksonville, FL. It's hot. The van is running hot as well. The boys all fall asleep and I turn the heat on full blast to release heat from the engine. Nothing like driving in Florida, in September, with the heat on. The club in Jacksonville is on a dusty street. The people are pretty nice. The show is smooth. Paul asks from stage for a place to stay. A decent-looking girl approaches and offers us her place. She hangs out for the evening and then we follow her home later.
The house looks okay from the outside. We go in and discover the dirtiest trash-filled place we've ever been to. She sits down with us and says she'll be going out drinking and states that she hopes her roommates don't wake us up when they come home trashed at 3.30 in the morning with 30 of their closest friends. She says that her roommates bring bands back to the house to sleep all the time and she brought us to even the score.
She wants to play some music. I blow up my Aerobed to subtlely let her know I want no music. I want quiet. I want to sleep. In the bathroom, the trash can is so full, the pile reaches the sink counter and there is no toilet paper, only some napkins from Wendy's. There is also a one-eyed cat slinking around. I put in my ear plugs and go to sleep. The boys barely have floor room to spread out. [Jeff: Actually Erick and I got sofas, and Paul could have but didn't want to disturb the sanctity of the trash.]
I wake up a few hours later when what seems like 15 people come into the house. One drunk fellow states loudly and sarcastically, "Look guys, there's a BAND here. And they are all sleeping! Maybe I should play some mix tapes for them." He repeats himself a few times, maybe to make sure that at least ONE of us hears him. Well, I hear Erick say, "I don't think you should play that mix tape. I think you should go to bed." And the kid says "Oh yeah? Oh. You are one of THOSE bands. Well, you know, there's a Howard Johnson's down the street." And I'm thinking, "Great, I'm gonna have to jump between some drunk psycho and my bass player at 3.30 in the morning when I'm barely conscious." Then the guy thinks of one more quick comeback before he and his friends adjourn to their sleeping quarters: "I hope you guys get signed," he sneers.
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