DAY 1: SHATTERED HEARTS
The day started just like the entire trip had, full of energy, excitement, and vigor. We were ready to take on anything that presented itself and eager for the prospect of a good hike in the sun. We had just played an awesome show the night before and had so much fun being back at THE WOOD SHED in Salt Lake City, and now with a good nights sleep and a few hours to kill before we needed to pile back into the van, we prepared to go hiking somewhere in the halo of snow crested mountains that envelope the city. It was to be a perfect morning.
We donned our boots, jackets and sunglasses. I turned on the GoPro I had been taking everywhere to capture tidbits of even the most mundane routines which to us, inflated and energized by the feeling of being free from the teathers of our daily lives and jobs seemed worthy of documentation. We scampered down the hall like school children heading out to recess, following the path back and around the apartment building where we stayed the night, and headed down the alley that led to the side street where we parked our van, Lucy Blue. The next few minutes I am sorry to say are a bit of a blur in my memory but the basics went something like this...
As we approached the van all seemed totally normal. Lucy was still fairly clean and dust free as it was only the second morning of tour, and the glare of the sun coming off of the windows prevented us from seeing the hole that had been smashed through the opposite side of our hearts from where we stood. Let me digress for a moment and diagram for you the youthful cuteness that is the fact that Devin and Ian have assigned one another permanent back seat positions. Devin sits directly behind the driver (when he is not taking a turn driving of course) and Ian on the passenger side. Both have a sliding door and good amount of leg room, at least compared to airline standards, but they seem contented to have a space that they call "their side" which I find adorable. That being said, as we walk up to the car, Ian walked around the front of the vehicle to get his shoes from "his side" and freezes. For a moment he just stares blankly and then beckons us over with an "ummmm guys? someone broke my window..." It was true. In the course of the night someone had carefully selected the largest rock they could seem to find and still heft, and shot put it through our poor Lucy's right rear passenger window, decorating the gutter and interior of my car with beads of saftey glass that were suprisingly beautiful in the morning sun, despite the reality of what they meant to us. But that was not the worst of our fate this morning. You see, when you believe you are insured for such things, and you are on the road with lots of gear and instruments, you dont bring them all inside at every stop and back out every morning. It's just unrealistic. However in the stark light of hindsight it's hard not to chastise ones self for such foolishness. Not only was the window missing in its solid form, but so were all of our instruments, a pedal board, and some incidentals totalling almost 7,000 dollars worth of equipment. This was not something to which we knew how to react. Our first day of our tour and we were out 7,000 dollars and a day of hiking in the mountains. The real kicker was that we had parked in front of a state troopers house. His squad car was parked in the driveway all night. And yet, these thieves. These people who we have decided amongst ourselves were desperate for money to eat (because thats a happier version than some scumbag, drug addicted #%&@). These smashers of windows and shatterers of hearts must have had the largest, most overly matured set of man sized balls on them that have ever swung between a set of legs. To execute such a noisy smash and grab in front of a stateys house. I almost have to applaud them. Almost.
So we got it worked out. The police came and collected the rock used to smash the window as well as the very large steak knife that they left between the seats (which was used for God only knows what purpose) and took a report from us of exactly what happened. He then conveyed his sympathies and offered encouragement, all the while telling us between the lines that there was no way in haboryms hottest hell that we would ever see our gear again. We thanked him, gave him a CD in hopes that our dulcit tones might motivate him to try a little extra hard on our behalf, and headed to a local guitar store conglomerate via the glass repair shop, bought what we needed to continue on our way, and hit the road for our second night of tour. A little worse for wear, and a little heavy hearted at our loss, but considering all that had happened in the last two hours, remarkably positive.