After a couple hours of sleep we left the Rafati house with a full supply of fruit snacks, bananas and Ambien © provided to us by Cameron's lovely housemate Jill, a former opera singer and buxom wild woman. We headed for what turned out to be a delightful radio interview with a man named Ebay Hamilton at 90.9, a Salt Lake City independent station. He told us that yes, this was his real name and he had even been sent a cease and desist order by ebay.com when he set up his own website. After a successful and intimate performance on Ebays show, we headed to the State Room where we were booked as a headlining act, something that rarely happens so far away from our home turf. In a surprise turn, we received a double encore, which we were totally unprepared for. In that situation you're presented with two options. Either you're a douche and say no to a crowd of people who just want you to do your job, or say yes and play that song that you haven't played in 6 months and may not know the lyrics to. We opted for the latter. (On a side note, what are your thoughts on the whole " planned encore" phenomenon? These things are supposed to be spontaneous as well the best part of the show. That's a tall order. What would you do if we tapped you on the shoulder and asked you to piss a jar of pure gold when you just got out of the bathroom? Needless to say we squeezed out what we could and were proud to say the least.)
Notable places: Red Iguana Cantina. Spanish olive garnish on a broiled Tilapia filet? Holy balls.
Next stop was Aspen, where the beer flows like wine, the women flock like the salmon of Capistrano and the Dumb and Dumber quotes are endless. On the drive through the mountains a bald eagle flew over our van, blessing our journey, and we picked up Cody Webb, a rugged mountain man who let us stay on his couch while he drank all of our Jack Daniels. The show that night was our first with Xavier Rudd, who blew our minds and rattled our bowels with his one- man didgeridoo-blowing jam fest. Suzanne's' note to self: When engaging in deep leans or bends while onstage, be cautious of panty flashing crowd shots. Or at least be prepared with top-drawer sex kitten undies.
We woke up midmorning on the 28th and made the treacherous trek through the Rocky Mountains to Denver. When we got there we were taken out to dinner by Chuck Morris, the emperor of Colorado, and a legend in the concert promotion business. With his blessing we rocked the 1500 person capacity Ogden Theatre with ferocity and broke a merchandise sales record. This was the night that led us to conclude that the Colorado music fan is perhaps the most joyous and giving of them all. We spent the night with JB and Michelle, the mother and father of two University of Miami-obsessed boys and the couple that Suzanne Santo models her romantic dreams after. We stayed up late drinking Coloradoan whisky and playing with all the nerf guns in the basement until we finally fell asleep to the sound of us not caring about the Royal Wedding.
We took the next two days to make our way down to San Diego, a show that, despite some of the mega-hotties we met, left us with a touch of the blue balls. A quick drive to LA and a full band show allowed us to unloose the juice however and we continued our West Coast leg with a renewed sense of passion and a pocket full of kryptonite.