The Anatomy of Tour

During a time when the President of the United States is pleading with us to invest in the banks again, rather than stuff our life savings under our pillow tops, the six of us that make up Gentleman Auction House have decided to pump hundreds of gallons of fuel into an inefficient conversion van, hitch a 1500 pound trailer to the back, and drive thousands of miles across the country. Would anyone else care to join me in throwing my hat over a windmill?

For those of you who are unaware, the act of touring is not a vacation. In reality, it is a series of sometimes exciting, but mostly monotonous ground-hog days, consisting of hours of waiting and limited sleep. The poor, haggard, victim of insomnia may sympathize with the plight of an independent band on tour. It is a place where the minutia of the day is dissected ad nausea so as to extract any sort of entertainment from the most mundane of activities. Once, on a bumpy Kentucky highway, I watched Eric convince his fiance Nicole to balance a Styrofoam cup full of soda on her head for no less than twenty miles. The stunt was a success, and we were entertained.

For the next 15 days, I will be in direct proximity to five other people, some of us days away from a shower. Much of that time will be spent within the relatively tight confines of our seven passenger van, trying hard not to pollute the already stagnant air with our own fetid gasses. The ability to appease each other while still holding on tightly to the notion of individuality within the larger group setting is a balancing act we are all still trying to perfect.

However, it is not my goal to discuss the hardships of close quarter living, but to document as much as possible, what we do on a daily basis. So, without further digressions, this is how Gentleman Auction House goes on tour.