Fingers to the bone

Wednesday, August 29, morning, tour bus between Quebec City and Montreal.

The last update was written on Sunday on the plane. Where did I lose the days between?

Well, we finally arrived to Newark with all our gear and even managed to drag all that and our asses to the other side of New York, that being Best Western of Jamaica, NY. This was already late evening, but luckily the nearby gas station was still open and we managed to get some beer and food. Pizzeria was closed though so the evening's menu consisted of beer and potato chips.

At the hotel we finally find all the other bands. Some of the guys are already asleep (or passed out, I couldn't tell the difference) but some were still up drinking. We joined them. It was a nice evening of course had to end badly. Later when I was already in bed there were still some people in our room drunk, and of course start hearing these loud voices saying "shit it's hurting!" and "I can see the bones!". Jonne had somehow managed to land on his own hand and broken a bone which then had pushed through the skin. Nice. They drunk horde then walked to a nearby hospital to get it fixed. Jonne ended up staying there till 10 next morning. Later Jonne told us about the moment when it hurt the most, so much that he almost passed out. It was when they were walking to the hospital and lovely caring Terje of Tyr grabbed his broken finger and said "You should keep it above your heart level."

Schedule for Tuesday said that buses will arrive at 10, we'll then go pick up the backline and then head to Canada. No one expected the buses to arrive on time. They never do. So we were prepared to leave around 11. They didn't arrive. We managed to leave sometime in the afternoon. I think it was somewhere between 14-15. Travel day, gas station, cold beer. No one was really complaining. The first complaints were heard at the Canadian border. People were getting awfully drunk and the immigration was getting awfully slow. Finally in Canada we drive to lovely little town of St. Hubert, park at the motel driveway and let the drivers sleep. Everyone else went to bed at some point, but Matti and myself were staying up late and drinking. It was a hilarious night. Blasting out Manowar and Iron Maiden. Not much detailed memories from that night.

Soon it was Tuesday, the first actual tour day with a show and all. While we were approaching Quebec City I was sitting up in front with the driver. His GPS was telling us that we're 1/4 mile away from the venue and we were driving in some suburb. I told him that I've been at the venue before and it is in the city. This has to be a wrong address. I end up checking the address with my phone's GPS. I took as a while to figure out what was the problem. It was the same so many times before: the French. In the 15km radius from the Quebec City centre there are 3 different Rue Saint-Josephs! And for example my GPS gives a different street if searching for "St Joseph" or "Saint Joseph". Only the French.

Will continue later. Arrived in Montreal.