tour blog: day 1

So, you guys may or may not know that I just went out for a few days with a band from Lexington as their merch girl (aka, the girl who sells the band's shirts and stuff). And mostly for the purpose of helping me remember what I hope was my first of many experiences on the road, I want to share a collection of my pictures, tweets, status updates and otherwise unshared memories so that one day when I forget about what I want to remember, I can read and see it here (and with this stellar memory of mine, that day may be tomorrow). So, day-by-day, here's a little about one of the most crazy exciting experiences of my life. 

 

Day 1:  October 26

The Full Bull Saloon

Watseka, Illinois

Tweet from the first gas station stop:

"I'm going to buy awkward gas 

station stuff from every state. 

First up, Indiana back scratcher. 

Score." - 3:24 PM - 26 Oct 12

(I didn't actually follow through with this, but I really should have.)

As we drove through basically the entire state of Indiana, I figured out a piece of very vital information to my life:

Turns out I'm terrified of windmills. Who knew. - 6:11 PM - 26 Oct 12

I had a goal of taking a pic of the show flier each night. I failed, but here's the first one.

"About to use all I was forced to learn when Nicholas made me work the Chasing Layne merch table" — at The Full Bull Smokehouse Saloon. October 26 at 8:44pm via mobile

My first official (paying!) merch night

"This accent sells shirts. Thank you Monroe County." 10:23 PM - 26 Oct 12

The accent thing may have been the most amusing part of the entire adventure. Listen y'all: I know I have a little bit of an accent...ok, maybe a more than a little, but still...from the very first night, these "northerners" treated me like a zoo creature after they heard me speak. I can't count the number of times I was asked, "Where are you from?" or told by some silly boy to say things just so they could laugh at my pronunciations. And when that happened you better believe I turned on my southern belle as much as I could- my drawl bordered on incomprehensible, hand went on the hip, I smiled my sweetest smile, leaned in to listen and was bubblier than 10 bottles of champagne. It didn't always sell stuff, but it was a strangely powerful feeling that was addictive. Clearly my southern powers are wasted in Kentucky.