Amityville: The Day Nate Blew a Tranny . . .

A few months ago, our friend DJ from Revel9, one of the bands we met at the Millenium Music Conference in Harrisburg PA, contacted me about a fantastic idea he had to shake up the Tri-state area music scene by getting regional bands into the area in a different way.  Most of the time in Long Island/ NYC the venues rule with iron fists and bands are forced to pay to play.  DJ wanted to get NEW music to the masses and create a win/win situation for the venue and the bands.  With help from other hard working musicians in the area and support from several sponsors including D'Addario, Gee Davey Productions, GDA Media Group, Aural Fix & The Rock Show, Radio J, 118 Miles, Shatterproof Clothing, and Playgroundz.net, he developed the NUTUYU (New To You, get it?) Music Showcase and found a home for it in Amityville, NY. We were ECSTATIC to be a part of this and jumped on board along with several bands from Long Island including Revel9, our brothers in Finespun, The Ascension, EvilEye, Dan Acosta & Axis Unknown, and New Jersey band Resident Stone, 

The flyer for the Gig

     Saturday morning everything was going according to plan.  Everyone was ready to leave on time, including notoriously late members of the band, no one forgot anything and had to go back, the van's fluid levels were checked and we were out the door.  Rob actually said "This is going way too smoothly."  I guess that's where the weird stuff began.  I'm not really sure what to call it.  Rob put it best, at the end of the day, when he said "It was like we got bent over and fucked in the ass, but then we got a reach around, over and over."

     We stopped at the local Flying J for gas and food before we headed out.  We grabbed drinks, got lunch and filled the tank.  One of our Road Dogs, Mike Sabin, grabbed a couple of burritos to warm up.  When he opened them (to his disgusted surprise) they were covered in mold.  Nasty.  That was the first screwing.  He got his money back and we hit the road, stopping at the local Taco Bell so he could get his burrito fix.  The people behind the counter forgot to make his food, so when he finally got it he also got all kinds of free stuff! That was the first reach around.

     We were on the road headed to Long Island.  About 2.5 hours down the road Nate says "Uh.  We just lost the speedomoter" so we immediately pulled off the road at an exit that was, conveniently, right there.  It was Exit 2 (Moscow) on I380 in PA just south of Scranton.  Rob had him turn off the the van then turn it back on to see if it was just a sensor or something.  When he turned it back on all we could smell was burning transmission fluid.  Not Good. We walked around to the back of the van and there was transmission fluid EVERYWHERE.  All over the back of the van, in the wheel wells, and exploded all over the ground.  We limped the Van about 1/10 of a mile up the road and pulled into a parking lot on the left at the first business we saw, which happened to be where we met the nicest people I have ever met in my entire life.  Mel and Diana - the owners of the North Pocono Bagel Shoppe and Car Wash (Go like them.  You'll see why if you keep reading).

It's like another HOME, now.

     Mel sauntered over from his shaded seat under a mesh tent attached to the side of the restaurant and asked if everything was alright.  We told him the situation and he said something along the lines of "Well I'm just a big dumb farm boy and don't know nothin' about cars, but I know some people" and started making phone calls.  "May day, May day, Joe.  We've got a Van down at the Car Wash! They think they blew their transmission"  We realized after a short period of time that this guy knew everyone there was to know in the town.  He called a mechanic over from one of the local shops (which were all closed for the day) and he checked out our van, went out to grab some more transmission fluid and, after taking a quick spin with it, told us that we were, indeed, fucked.  Diana told us to come into the shade and stay cool while we figure out what to do, and gave us all drinks on the house.  Diana and Mel spent the next few hours calling everyone they know to try to help us get to NYC or figure out how to get the Van towed back to Syracuse.  They were even willing to figure out a way to do it themselves!  Now remember:  these are total strangers.  

     Finally we decided to rent as large a vehicle as possible from the local Hertz and get as much gear in it as possible and have Joey (who was not with us at the time due to Time Warner fucking HIM and making him work on a day he asked to get off) pick up the rest of the gear on his way through.  Diana took Rob and I over to the Avis/ Hertz at the Scranton Airport, where we sort of got screwed again.  These days if you want to rent a car you have to have good credit or a major Credit Card NOT drawn on a bank.  Well.  I had neither.  Rob was able to do it, but didn't have the funds on the debit card to cover it, since they put a $200 hold on the card if you use debit.  I started the process of transferring funds from my account to his, when Diana walked in and put down her debit card to cover the rental fee and deposit.  I couldn't believe it.  Neither could the people behind the counter.  "You mean she is a total stranger to you guys?"  Faith in humanity restored to two other people involved in the weird day.  She just wanted to make sure that we were covered and we made it to our gig on time. . . 

The sexy car we got to take to the gig.

     About an hour later, gear packed to the ceiling in the trunk of the little red Nissan Rogue, Joe C tucked (folded really) behind a bass guitar next to Nate and Mike Sabin in the back seat, Rob piled eyeball high with more gear in the front seat, bagels and more refreshments from Mel and Diana, we hit the road.  The rest of the ride down, albeit uncomfortable, was relatively uneventful, and we made it to the gig with plenty of time to spare.  Joey arrived shortly behind us.

     The audience at Broadway Bar did NOT disappoint.  We were met with a warm, and appreciative, reception.  I guess people were impressed with our "show must go on" approach.  I'm so glad Amityville likes their Rock.  I'm still having a hard time getting used to not singing and can't WAIT until my vocal chords are fully healed and I can sing again, but we had a great show!  We met some really awesome people, including Molly and Brian, who were ready to bend over backwards to help us in any way they could when they heard our story.  Molly used to be a mechanic in Scranton and knows people in the area that might be able to help us with the van.  The next few days will tell what happens there.  No the Saga has not ended.  HAHA!

After the show we had a quick chat with DJ, packed most of the gear into Joey's car (who had to go home, yes: Time Warner. . . effers) and we headed to the 7Eleven to get beer for the boys.  I think we scared the owner, but not as much as their bathroom scared ME.  

Yeah.  I hovered this and STILL fear I caught something!

     I handed the key off to Mike and grabbed a sandwich.  As I was walking out I asked Mike if he returned the Key.  He said he left it in the bathroom.  Oops.  I told the little Indian man behind the counter that we locked the key in the bathroom and he said (with a very thick Indian accent), "Well, den we haf a prooblem." I stood there for a second, not quite sure how to respond to that, blinked twice, turned and left.  

     We headed over to Doug's (Finespun bassist) humble abode for sleep.  We all wanted to get into NYC and explore a little before leaving the next day.  The alarm on Rob's phone went off at 9am (way too early for most of us since we all went to sleep between 4 and 5am).  

     Doug got us directions to the Wo Hop in China Town where we all wanted to eat lunch.  We thanked him for everything, headed out to the car with all of our stuff, packed the trunk and left.  Mike Sabin as navigator and Joe C driving turned out like putting 2 kids with ADHD in charge.  We missed a turn, took a wrong turn and missed the entrance to the highway.  When we finally got turned around and on the right highway (after getting about a mile and a half from Doug's house) someone in a truck beeped at us.  Nate gave the driver one of his very Nate-like "What the fuck are you beeping at?" looks, and the guy pointed at our trunk saying, "Your trunk's open!"  SHIT!  We were fucked again.  The irony?  Only Rob's bag fell out of the trunk.  The 18 pack of Bud Light, my pillow and all of our other backpacks were still there.  What kind of luck IS this?

     Rob and Nate took off jogging (yes, Nate was Jogging) down the side of the highway to see if they could find Rob's bag.  I texted Oren (Finespun) to get a hold of Doug (no we didn't get his number because we're idiots) hoping that maybe the backpack fell out right when we took off.  It did. Another reach around.  We circled around and picked up Nate and Rob, who had made it to the entrance ramp, and went back to get the backpack from Doug.  I got his number, and we hit the road again.  As we were pulling out of the very nice Long Island neighborhood we were in Nate said "I think the running made me sick.  I'm going to throw up." We stopped at a stop sign, he opened the door and . . . that's what he gets for pounding a giant Sparks for breakfast then running a mile.  It doesn't help that he gets carsick if he has to sit in the backseat, so while driving down the road in stop and go traffic on the BQE he stuck his head out the window and hurled again.

     Parking in the NYC, as many of you well know, is a bitch and a half.  I was ready to wet myself after being in the car for so long, and had to hop out on Mott street in Chinatown to use the bathroom.  Joe got us parked, and we went to lunch at Wo Hop (the downstairs one, for those of you that know it).  The portions were huge and the food was perfectly delicious.

Wo Hop, 17 Mott St.

     Full, and ready to face the trip back to Moscow, PA, we piled in the car and headed toward the Holland Tunnel.  Traffic was slow, as it usually is.  I kept glancing over at the street vendors, and found a really interesting one.  "Look!  Bongs!" I pointed to a vendor coming up on our right.  Mike Sabin yelled out the window, "How much for the black Hookah?"  The bored looking middle eastern man behind the table yelled back, "Thirty" Mike Sabin yelled back, "Twenty" and the man grabbed the hookah off of the table and ran up the street to us with it and the Drive-by Hookah Purchase was complete.  Yes.  It happened THAT fast.

Drive-by Hookah

     Our trip back to the Bagel Shoppe was relatively smooth.  We hit a HUGE downpour about 1/2 way back that had several cars pulled off the road because it was so bad people couldn't see 5 feet in front of their car, but we kept going.  When we got there Bob and Cyn Hopper arrived to rescue their son (Nate), who had called them from the road.  Joe C was on call that night and had to get back, and there was no reason for Mike Sabin to stay, so they hitched a ride with the Hoppers as well.  Rob and I stayed with the broken Van and started the process of figuring out what to do.  There were no great solutions, so the Van remains at the North Pocono Bagel Shoppe in Moscow, PA.  Diana helped me return the rental, and fed us a huge, family-like spaghetti dinner complete with home-made meatballs while we waited for Kevin Dean to come get us.

     We never did get around to passing that infamously cursed house in Amityville, but I'm proud of my band.  We all remained extremely calm through this entire strange adventure.  We laughed a lot and took things in stride.  There wasn't a bad mood in the bunch all weekend.  I have no doubt that we could survive ANYTHING on the road.  Look out world:  Here comes Just A Memory.

We'll see you out there.

~Leila Dean