We picked Scott up at an airport in North Carolina and welcomed him back to the team. The last time you may have seen a picture of him with a suitcase it was a sad, rainy day, and he had to walk back to America. This day, however, was glorious. We've missed him for the past few shows, but now we're gonna get nuts.
We continue on directly to the Redeye Distribution offices. They are an important part of Team Nasty, responsible for getting our records into stores and fun stuff like that. We toured the facilities and found that most everyone was very willing to stop working and hang out with us...what a nice group of folks! Just past the "Cum Park Plaza" and the "Food Lion," we enjoyed some good country cookin' lunch with our friends Leyla and Brian.
With a few hours to kill, we decided we'd go catch dinner at a local fishing hole. Hey, when in Rome...
Damon leads us to a spot that he feels lucky about...it may have been because there was a buoy in the water that said "Fish Attractor" on it.
Even still, we didn't catch shit.
Our show at the Nightlight was great. The place doubles as a used book store, and we stayed up late playing Jazz records and reading fiction.
It did not take us long to realize that the "Rock Band" circuit is hittin' our bars and clubs like nobody's business...it's the new karaoke. Let me explain. A while back, we pulled up to a club on a cold, snowy evening, and went down stairs to the old-timey basement pool hall turned rock venue. It was a perfect getaway from the cold, and what once bore witness to the pool hustling shenanigans of guys like Fast Eddie, was now more reminiscent of a frat house hang out. Among the few remaining pool tables were a plethora of couches, a stage, and a gigantic big screen TV, that was on this day hosting a happy hour Rock Band tournament. I walked up to the bartender, introduced myself, and informed him that I was in one of the bands. He pointed to a guy on a couch holding a plastic guitar, and he said I should speak to him. Confused as to why the club manager would be playing video games at a time like this, I asked if we could just go ahead and load in our gear. His response to that? "Oh, you're in a REAL band!"
So, inevitably, we later found ourselves in a late night "jam session" at Al's house in Connecticut (thanks Al). This game had been in our faces for weeks, and now it was our turn to virtually rock the house. Our band has never sounded worse. 
