“I was looking for a pisser on the SeaBus and ran into a guy who said he was the first seaman, and I was all like SO AM I, BRO.”

– #shitdanballsays

Saturday, March 10, 10:00 am

We wake up as one big collective hangover in Cody’s apartment, in which he has politely vacated to give us a comfortable space to relax while we are in town. Before we are on our way to Kelowna, we say goodbye to Kiana, who I’m sure, at this point, realizes how ridiculous and strange, and gross, we are as a band, and as people, and is relieved to know she no longer has to share our clearly awesome, yet disgusting van with us.

Seriously though, we can’t thank her enough. She is one immensely talented young lady and we miss her sassy face every day on the road. Check out her very own project HERE and show her some support.

And now, Allow me to explain the events of last night in Vancouver, following our performance at the CBC, as vividly as I can. There’s a haze, but I think I can see through it:

Friday, March 9, 7:00 pm (The previous evening)

We return to Cody’s apartment in North Van for replenishment and become quickly re-aquainted with our old friends, Dr. McGillicuddy, Sailor Gerald, James Beam, Pabst: The Blue Ribbon and Giant Bottle of Wine. Each one of us having picked our poison and we head out on a cross-town adventure to The Media Club to see our pals “Redbird” and “Portage and Main” play some tunes, and party with what seems to be all of our friends in the Vancouver area in one room. We take a bus down to the SeaBus, and by this time the boys and I are fairly intoxicated, as are the rest of the passengers, so we fit right in.

As I may have mentioned before, when Dan “smallest bladder in the world” Ball has to pee, it’s no a laughing matter. Well, it is, but you can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to hold your liquids sometimes (all the time). He walks around the SeaBus, thinking it’s a “ferry,” looking for a bathroom even after all our efforts of trying to convince otherwise. Thankfully, he runs into someone who claims to be the first seaman who sends him back to us and is somehow able to hold it in for the duration of our transport, even when we run through the station to catch the sky-train.

11:00 pm

Before entering the club, I find a PBR in my pocket and shotgun it in a parking lot. I make no excuses for my actions. I am all class tonight. The club is packed full, and we make it just in time for “Redbird.” They are quite excellent, and as they finish up and “Portage and Main” starts I develop a mad crush on John Sponarski. It is quite hard not to. There is a giant sing-along for the song “Oh, Carolina,” my arm draped around the beautiful Matt Layzell of The Matinee and my other hand feeding Handsome Anthony more PBR’s. I run into my wonderful sister Jaclyn (who is happy to see me but also looks very disappointed in my behavior) and so many absolute gems of people I call my friends. The rest of the night is blurry.

3:00 am

Shamefully, I can recall a walk to McDonalds afterwards and Kiana screaming for french fries in a British accent, and then a $30.00 cab-ride back into North Van. When we return, Tyson challenges Dan and Anthony to a wrestling match in an unknown and confusing lingo after attempting to toss us all PBR’s from across the room, 4 out of 5 cans exploding on impact or when being opened. There is an arm-wrestling match and Tyson starts making strange sounds and becomes angered at how long it takes him to beat Anthony. It was weird, and for some reason, reminded me of this WEBSITE. I guess you would have to be there.

4:30 pm

We roll into the Okanagan, blessed by beautiful weather and clear passage over the coquehalla. We end up at our pal Mike Peter’s new house for a drink with some old friends. The more I see Mike these days, the more “Tucker Max” stories I hear from him about Tyson. Seriously, it’s like I’m reading the books. We end up in downtown Kelowna shortly after, at Doc Willoughby’s, a great place run by a great man named Colin, who we’ve been working with for the last few years. His pub is amazing. He hooks us up with some grub, I order a veggie burger thinking I’m making a healthy choice, but then decide to get tons of cheese melted on it at the last minute and fuck up. We struggle to load in our gear up 2 flights of narrow stairs afterwards. It is truly a pathetic sight, 4 men in their 20’s fighting to breathe and tempting heart attacks. Cody Beer, of course, is right as rain, and smirks as he doesn’t even break a sweat. Embarrassing.

Following an intense hockey game, Fields of Green begin their set. They are one of my favorite rock bands in the west, really something special. What’s more is, you really won’t find a nicer or handsome group of young men in an experimental rock band. There set is great and loud, my favorite. We begin setting up for our set and my hangover kicks in. It tells me not to move so fast, not to lift anything. It tells me to eat a poutine and go to bed and pick up where I left off in the morning. But this is not any ordinary night. Being on tour means you have to fight through that shit and do your job, and do it well. And we do, and I sweat it out on stage. Jager shots are brought to us by the dozen and I cringe, but oblige kindly and actually start to feel better. I mean, why wouldn’t I? It is a rock and roll set, we are loud and the audience is absolutely amazing. As we play I see so many of my old friends I’ve missed, from high school and bands we used to play with long ago. It is refreshing to be in kelowna tonight.

3:00 am

We forget about the time change as we are packing up and there is big collective groan when our phones actually read 4:00 am. We leave the bar, saying goodnight to Colin and his wonderful staff and head over to our friend Jonny’s place from Fields of Green. When we ring the buzzer, 3 times, he is sound asleep and then lets us in in wearing his pyjamas. Surprisingly, he is not angry, but rather happy to see us. We fall asleep instantly. Dan wakes up in the middle of the night to pee and trips over the coffee table. There is a rather loud thud followed by a low whimper, and then “I stubbed my toe-thumb.” I assumed he meant his big toe, but who am I to ask questions in the face of such brilliance?

Redbird photos by Christine Mcavoy