Quote of the day:

Dan Ball selects “Ted Nugent” on an old juke-box, people start exiting the bar.

“Hash-Tag, I learned all my moves from my dad.”

Wednesday, November 23rd, 10:00 am, Toronto

I wake up confused and shattered. Last night’s celebration, an after-show party at Sneaky Dee’s, “My Friends Over You,” a pop-punk dj set including Edmonton’s finest, Craig and Sandy from Ten Second Epic, ended in a haze of Toronto friends, fajitas and the invention of “The Sprack” which is a shitty grilled cheese sandwich with jalepenos, and late night beers at our pals Tristan and Dean’s house, where I somehow managed to score a bed in the basement of their roommate, who apparently was out for the evening, hence my confusion. Quite often on tour I wake up not knowing exactly where I am. I am usually aware of the province, and sometimes even the city, but after a night like last night, I was for a loss. I regain my senses and go upstairs to find Dan passed out awkwardly on the arm of a loveseat, Lewis covered in a pile of jackets on a couch and Tyson planking on the floor under a computer desk. Priceless. We are in a hurry to get up because we are late for our drive to Montreal. I leave Dean and Tristan a sexy note that makes little to no sense, except for the scribbled words “Thank you” and “Sorry for partying” near the end.

6:00 pm, Montreal

When we finally make it to the outskirts of Montreal, the gruelling headache of a drive, we are informed that it was the first snowfall of the year. We get stuck in traffic not 30 minutes from the venue, La Sala Rossa. The traffic adds on an extra hour to our trip, and in that hour, we all suddenly have to pee. Now, pissing into empty bottles you’ve collected from countless pit stops on tour is not the most dignified way of relieving yourself, in fact it’s pretty gnarly, but it does get the job done. Just be sure to have a bottle with a strong, working lid. Coffee cups and chip bags will NOT suffice. There have been way too many accidents in our van for us to mess around any more. The last thing you want, on top of the collaborative effort to make the van smell like a toilet without trying, is urine. If that is the case, put on the emergency flashers and jump out, go out the window, or simply, wait it out. Think of dry places where your bladder does not exist, or just suck it up (princess). After all, we are men in our mid 20’s to early 30’s, you’d think we’d be able to just go with it. Harder than you think.

8:00 pm

The venue is quite nice, and we have the pleasure of playing with an awesome band, “These Silent Waves,” a heavy pop-punk band from Quebec City. They are beauties. Always great to make new friends. Uncle Sprack’s moustache has grown to it’s maximum potential and is distracting while we are on stage. The sound is wonderful, and we can’t thank Dave, the sound-tech, enough for tonight. He’s an amazing guy. We make a few new fans tonight, and audience lends us their voices for a few numbers. Ten Second Epic plays a solid set to their loyal fans, and I notice that Craig is starting to remind me more and more of my Dad each day. Old rock and roll shirts, what is becoming an incredible horseshoe moustache on his face, his Dad strength. I could never beat up my dad, and I sure as hell would never even begin to mess with Craig. I’m betting he could fold me in half while giving me a lesson on how to be a man.

12:30 am

Montreal is a wonderful city. Every time we travel here, we get anxious about not being able to speak even a lick of french. But we get here, and it’s magical, and the food is great, and the people are amazing. One day, we will take a vacation here during the summer and it will convince us to live here, I think. Later in the evening we meet up with our dear friend Lucas and Melanie, our old pals from Victoria. They are chefs and it is damn satisfying to chat with them about living in Montreal, local hot-spots and breakfast, the most important and romantic meal of the day. They let us crash on their floor after a regrettable late-night run to McDonalds, where Dan orders a “1967” burger, not available in BC. I ask him how it is and he tells me it is the best thing he’s ever eaten and we should move to Quebec. I ask him, “just for a burger?” He replies, “It’s not just for a single burger, Jeff. It’s so I can eat many burgers at any time I like.” Good point. Lucas makes us coffee in the morning, and leaving is the saddest moment of the tour so far.