Hosted by Richard shortly before Christmas, I felt like this party was one of our better ones. The fact that people actually showed up with artwork was amazing in-and-of itself. The fact that it was all really well done is even more amazing.
Here's the artwork with the artists listed below.
Ian.
Top: Sean Bottom Left: Conor Bottom Right: Adam G.
Sean.
Rachel. (To be honest, I don't know who Rachel is, but Sean says she did this piece and so I believe him).
Adam and I bought tickets for the event a couple of days in advance. On the day we left, Adam told me that Miles got a ticket on the night previous and that he'd be riding up with us. I, of course, had no problem with this. Miles, however, did have a problem. Turns out Adam was misinformed, and Goiter had not gotten the ticket. This fact only came to light when I mentioned that the show for that evening was completely sold out. I said so as we were passing through the intersection of Glenn Ave. and East University Drive on the way to Exit 57. I started to turn the car around so I could drop off a defeated Bugg at his car. I drove very slowly in the direction of Miles' car and quickly talked him into throwing caution to the wind and coming with us to Atlanta.
My reasoning was simple. If Miles finds a ticket, good for him, everyone has a good time. If he doesn't find a ticket, then Miles is stuck in Atlanta on New Year's Eve. Either way, I win.
As soon as we got into Georgia, the drive turned perilous. We drove through blinding rain until eventually we had to pull over somewhere on the outskirts of Atlanta and wait for the rain to calm down. It never did, and we were forced to drive about 50 MPH the rest of the way.
Upon reaching Atlanta, we went to meet up with, literally, a friend of a friend of a friend. His name was "Bill" and he seemed like a nice-enough fellow. He was also going to Drive-By Truckers. Cory, who was our connection to Bill, was also there taking sips off of a keg of Sweetwater 420. Cory was going to see Sound Tribe Sector 9 with a couple of the other nameless faces at this quasi-party going on at Bill's. Afterwards, Cory said it was a great show. Unfortunately, I can't afford the amount of drugs it would require to make that show bearable so I decided to stick with "THE FUCKIN' ROCK SHOW" (as Patterson occasionally calls it). After hanging around Bill's for about 20 minutes, Miles and I made our way over to the venue.
Now, back to the ticket situation, here we are standing outside the venue, "SOLD OUT" in large letters on the marquee, it's one-hour 'til showtime, it's raining, and Miles has no ticket. Furthermore, the motherfucker doesn't have cash. So, we walked up to the nearby Chevron, and, of course, their ATM is out of order, and the only other ATM in the neighborhood is inside The Variety Playhouse.
Miles and I walked back towards the venue. The plan was that I would go inside with his bank card and get some cash out of the ATM (his PIN number is 2457, by the way), and slip the dough and the card through the lattacework in "smoker's alley". He would then use the capital to obtain the desired ticket. So, we stood in the line waiting for the doors to open. Within thirty seconds of our standing there a guy came right up to us and asked the magic question: "Who needs a ticket?" The guy was even nice enough to let Miles use the ticket to get inside and use the ATM. God's providence shone upon Miles that night.
After a taxi-ride from Bill's, Adam caught back up with us just in time for the show to begin. (By the way: This is just one man's opinion, and I don't want anyone to take this the wrong way, but, I think Miles looks like a very hot lady in the above picture. That's a compliment, Miles. Run with it.)
Soon enough the show began:
For maybe the first time in my life, I was familiar with the opening act, Centro-Matic. I even knew a couple of their tunes, and I enjoyed their performance a lot. They're a pretty good band. That said, they didn't have shit on DBT.
And, in case you were wondering, here's the setlist:
Lookout Mountain Gravity's Gone Easy On Yourself Wednesday Women Without Whiskey Life In The Factory Goddamn Lonely Love My Sweet Annette Marry Me Feb. 14 Danko/Manuel The Living Bubba Where The Devil Don't Stay Do It Yourself Dress Blues A World Of Hurt Let There Be Rock
Encore:
Grandaddy Bulldozers and Dirt Let Me Roll It Zip City Keep On Smilin' Never Gonna Change Shut Up and Get On The Plane Buttholeville Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love People Who Died
Happy New Year!
After the show ended, we all went back to Bill's. Unfortunately, when we got there, the only one to greet us was Bill's dog who was in the window behind a locked door. The rain had given way to a light mist, so we stood in the front yard drinking off of the keg that was still outside, waiting for people to return. After about thirty minutes, Bill came back to the house having walked all the way there from Variety Playhouse, a distance I estimate to be in the 2 to 3 mile range.
We went inside and soon enough, Cory and all the nameless faces showed back up to the house. I went inside, and sat on the couch. While I sat there, I thought about the best way for us to make our exit. Suddenly, I heard some light commotion in the kitchen. I got up and turned the corner. In the kitchen, Miles and Adam were feeding Tostitos to the dog. This was a big dog, the kind of dog that will sacrifice his body for the sake of grabbing food out of mid-air. This kind of thing is always entertaining to me, so I gladly joined in the fun. Eventually Miles went back outside with the others leaving only Adam and I in the kitchen. With no one to monitor our activities, we fed the entire bag of Tostitos to the dog. Soon enough, another dog showed. So, we opened up a bag of pretzels and started feeding those to the dogs. We ended up feeding them about 3/4 of the bag.
A few minutes later, we all said our goodbyes, and made our exit from the house. On the way back to the car, I told Miles about the ridiculous amount of pretzels we had fed to the dogs. Miles then informed me that the dogs would most likely get very sick due to a salt overload. As I drove back to Auburn, I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Bill, a guy we barely knew and would probably never meet again, cleaning up insane amounts of dog vomit and shit the next morning. That's why I'm not a pet owner.
: 8:57 AM
