Date: November 28, 2004

Author: Rob the Russian (drums)

The last we saw the sun was at the meteor crater site in Arizona, or maybe it was a ways further on into New Mexico. Then the rains came. More rain over a period of 5 days than I've experienced in my entire life and that's quite a statement considering I live in a city surrounded by rainforest.

Texas and Louisiana were soaked and floaded causing us delays, detours, and much constipated anxiety. Sara and I had'nt pooped in days. But last night 50 miles into Mississippi it got real ineresting. Imagine taking all the scheduled rainfall that night for Earth, re-routing it to southeastern Mississippi, positioning its mass overtop our van then letting it drop all at once. We had to yell to each other inorder to be heard. Pretty much like driving straight into Niagra Falls. Not through it, just stuck there right at the bottom of it.

It gets better. Add extremely dense fog to the situation, a tour schedule we must adhere to and the dreadful knowledge of lurking funnel clouds attempting to touch down as tornados. Ted, our youngest sibling, begins to tremble. I could swear I heard sobs from our new tour manager Tyler. As for myself? I could tell you I wasnt constipated anymore. Can it get any worse?... Oh yes.

The windshield wipers stop working, at least one of them, the other one on the driver's side flys off in mid wipe leaving us with a psychotic metal-on-glass screaching noise. You see, God hates us. This is his way of letting us know.

Now Ted and Sara are crying. Consolation comes quick however when they are given what they are told is a crucial task to the group's survival. We convince them to crawl into the back of the U-Haul and bail water out, thus saving our drowning baggage and equipment. But they have to do it as we drive. You see there's no stopping and although I've slowed our speed down to a 20 mph crawl, we must keep going inorder to catch our show and Thanksgiving dinner in Atlanta the next day. Our CD player is broke, all radio stations play either New Country or Nu Metal. I sob internally. Chris is nowhere to be seen.

What to do about the wipers?

Tegan dons her bathing cap and swim goggles, opens the passenger side window and leans half her body out inorder to shout instructions back to me as to where exactly we are on the highway using the white line on the side of the road as her marker. Craig (our sound man) kneels beside her with a towel ocassionally wiping the torrential rains off her face and head. Brave girl.

Service providing, we keep in cell phone contact with Ted and Sara in the U-Haul to make sure they havent fallen out or drowned. Chris has re-appeared. I look out my window to the left and see him running alongside the van waving a flashlight up and down like an airport tarmac worker. Apparently none of us noticed him slip out to assume the task of guiding me away from the centre line. What a team!

Gas is running low so we get Chris an Tegan back in the van and glide into the parking lot of the very Republican Budget Inn. Ahh the Budget Inn. Things have apparently crawled and left stains on the sheets in those lovely rooms for many, many years. We all sleep fully clothed for what seems like a few minutes then limp back into the van. The rains have lifted but none of us speak to each other, especially Ted and Sara, who we forgot in the back of the U-Haul the night before. Even after we do find breakfast at a Subway a couple hours later our smiles are only half smiles. You see there happens to be a produce shortage in Alabama or Georgia or whatever state it is we're in so our various meat subs come with a scant three slices from a single olive and some limp lettuce.

Happeir times are sure to come.