...And We Are The Revivalists

Epilogue.

Zima is coming back. Not sure what to make of that.

Wheels up in an hour. Seattle to Denver, then Denver to New Orleans. There's no way in heck I'm not getting buzzed on this flight. We book a lot of flights on Southwest because they don't charge for checked bags, and in return for the steady business they keep us rolling in drink coupons. Drinking on an airplane is probably the closest I'll ever get to knowing what it's like to be Don Draper.

Not to mention that I'm celebrating.

The first time we came to the west coast, our last show was in Seattle. It was at the end of a long tour, and we had two shows opening for the Rebirth Brass Band, and we drove home the morning after the second one. We were planning on stopping twice, but then we just kind of... Went for it. We drove the whole way non-stop. It took about forty hours. We rotated drivers, slept on the bench seats in our big Chevrolet van, brushed our teeth and changed clothes in gas stations, and ate a lot of tacos. It was glorious. It was stupid.

I can't believe Mardi Gras is happening right now. It seems so far away, but I know it is real. I'll have a day or two to recover when I get home, and then, just like that, we'll be in the thick of it. It's also going to be the first year in quite some time that The Revivalists don't have a show. We'll be doing some side gigs around town, though. More on that later.

It's been a good tour. There's a lot swimming around in my head right now, but the B terminal at Sea-Tac Airport doesn't make for an ideal workspace

Also, Andrew very astutely pointed out that I should have called this an "epiblogue.”