We woke in Sarah’s room, strangely surround by things we had left behind in
New York, and Sarah had moved out to . After a shower, Sarah, Jenna, and Cameron wanted to take us out to a nice spot that they knew of for breakfast. Portland
A short drive brought us to The Stepping Stone. After a little wait, they set us up in a large booth in the corner, and in minutes we had steaming and delicious coffee in front of us. They did indeed have great breakfast, most notably human head sized pancakes called MANCAKES. We ate like crazy, and talked about what a weird place
is. Cameron told a great story about a shy girl from his high school who had turned out to be one of Charlie Sheen’s many recent concubines. Portland
We called it quits, and with a fond farewell, left
with all possible speed. Soon we were driving through rolling hills, headed toward the Portland Puget Sound area. We were bound for a small town called Port Townsend, where we were booked in a coffee shop, The Boiler Room, claiming to be a haven for youth from drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. We balked a little at this, but we never turn down a show, so we booked it, figuring we’d skip a few choice songs or lyrics.
When we rolled into town, a steady drizzle was soaking the water front. The soggy gray light made the otherwise beautiful little town look dreary. We found The Boiler Room on the main drag. We stepped inside, noticing that our promo material was nowhere to be seen. At the counter we talked to Hunter. He told us that Collin, music intern, would be in around 6:00. We told him we’d walk around town for a bit.
For about 45 minutes we walked along the water front. We watched a sailing race for a few minutes, with about ten good sized boats floating silently and dreamily by a morose looking girl hold a checkered flag on a pier. Enormous sea birds hopped around parking lots, pecking at nothing and crying at each other.
We made our way back to try and meet Collin when he came in, but he was nowhere to be seen. Posting up by the door seemed a natural step, so we got out the computer and settled in. Blythe got a drink (for which she was charged) and we watched and waited. An older man with a backpack came in, sang along to the Rolling Stones tune on the playback, and sat down to read a book without buying anything.
Next were a pack of surly looking teenagers, the shop’s milieu. A frantic looking mother talked frustratingly to her young boy in a corner. A scattered looking young man burst through the door and disappeared into a back room. We waited for nearly an hour and a half before finding out that this last was Collin. With his help, we cleared a space, and while he set up a PA system, we loaded in.
Moments later, members of Operation ID started showing up, nearly half an hour after the show was scheduled to start. After a short discussion, we decided to go on first. As soon as the decision was made, Operation ID disappeared to get dinner. We awkwardly stood around until they came back, then played shyly and quietly to the band, Collin, and Hunter behind the counter. It sucked. Worst show of the trip. We quickly vacated the stage area, loaded out and skulked to a corner to watch Operation ID also play to nobody.
Two girls walked in, who appeared to be involved with the Boiler Room, and the boys in the band begged them to stay. They did. Operation ID was awesome. They played really great Jazz influenced dancey math rock. They were tight and well rehearsed with very strange sounding material.
After their show Blythe and I made our way out. On the way I stopped to compliment the band on their music and was summarily brushed off. We left Port Townsend as quickly as possible.
The night was saved by a late dinner at Denny’s with Suzy Brown and Julia. We passed out hard at a very cheap motel called Sunrise Motor Inn.
Thanks to Collin for trying us out, I guess. Thanks to Operation ID for a good show.
Tomorrow… Finding a new place to stay in
, the Anchor Pub, Arkansas River Bandits, and free champagne. Everett