South by South Gomer tour, DAY TWO: The Devil's Dingleberry
- Aug 11, 2015
- 3 min read
Day two:
After loading the van, we started the day with a lovely greasy spoon breakfast at CoCo's (the chain restaurant, not our super sexy new friend from The Fever).
Before we did our final check-out, I was able to run over to Hooters and drop $20 down on the roulette table. Three spins, hit the corners of my lucky numbers twice and walked out $36 richer a mere five minutes later! (you'll be happy to know all of my winnings went directly towards attacking our livers with whiskey in Arizona that very evening, more on that below).
We hit the road and looked in vain for the hoover dam, apparently you have to exit the main freeway. Oh well I feel like I've kind of been there after seeing Bevis and Butthead Do America, but still. ..where's that damn dam!
Anyway, after a few more hours on the road we found the cabin of Tom Callahan in the hill country of lovely Prescott Arizona. The Van regurgitated our unwashed masses into his air condtioned living room where we reposed for our one and only day off on the tour.
After some fortifying red meat and beers we popped into downtown to survey the scene. There's a big 4th of July shindig in town including the worlds oldest rodeo (we were mistaken as rodeo dudes more than once on the street. one of the hazards of wearing hats i suppose, improv actors have known this for years).
Pooped out from the night before we walked around Whiskey Row and were on the verge of being lame and heading back. Just in time we spotted a drinking hole called Brick and Bones and Callahan suggested we pop in.
I just so happened to have $36 dollars of ill gotten gambling cash burning a hole in my pocket, so we went in to see what sort of exchange of legal tender for libations could be negotiated.
It turned out to be a wise move. Almost immediately we were gifted something called the ”Devil's Dingleberry” from our adorable and pregnant bartender Kelly. It was some sort of moonshine soaked chunk of unrecognizable fruit. The kind of thing served at the fancier banquet nights in the yard at San Quentin. To us it was a nibble of the divine Ambrosia...assuming Ambrosia tasted like a strangely euphoric, squishy nightmare dipped in gasoline. I would recommend the Devil's Dingleberry to a friend if they had an excess of stomach lining weighing them down and were looking to forget the fifth grade.
At this satanic saloon we also met Brian, a young and impressionable heavy metal bass player who fell in love with Aaron at first sight (an occupational hazard when you're ”the cute one” in a middle aged boy band). If we had landed that Prescott gig, he could have been our first groupie...dang!
Anyways, after a couple stiff drinks we moseyed back to Tom's where we ate pork, watched fireworks, drank far too much whiskey and jammed in the living room till the wee hours. We got to play some of our traditionals and less-polished originals in preparation for our Santa Fe show a couple days later. It was great to have Tom sitting in and have a mellow restful night. This would turn out to most definitely be the calm before the storm...
Back on the road bright and early the next day!
Tune your Internets to this channel tomorrow for the thrilling continuation of Day Three....
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