Welcome to the Meg & Dia tour diary documenting their ongoing tour with Angels & Airwaves. Read part four below, revisit part one, part two, part three and part four, and click here to see the remaining tour dates.


The part I hate about arriving at venues after long drives is running for my life, while trying to make the least amount of contact with people, straight into the nearest women’s restroom/greenroom. No, I’m not running from any blood-sucking vampires (although I wouldn’t mind running from an occasional "Edward". That’s right ladies, you know what I’m talking about!). Truth is, I’ve really come to know everyone on tour, and I just don’t want them to think of me as this scrubby dirty Asian chick always pacing about in stained sweats and a greasy pony-tail. Granted, they understand (even though they’ve probably forgotten, since they live on their luxurious buses) the difficulties of maintaining proper hygiene on tour. Also, (and this may be completely unfounded and ridiculous) sometimes I get the feeling that a little female company is much appreciated since everyone’s girlfriends/wives/fiances are patiently waiting for their hubbies at home and unfortunately the female to male ratio is rather low in my humble opinion. I mention all that in a strictly professional manner. Every time I walk by wearing some sort of lotion (Body Shop scents are my favorite and I can’t wear perfume, because like cigarette smoke, perfume gives me headaches) it never fails that a dude will call out, "smells like ‘girl’ in here." I always just shake my head and silently think to myself, "Gee, ya think?"



In Salt Lake, I bee-lined it through the venue, duffle bag and purse in hand, ready to at least get as far as washing my face and just maybe removing the black smudges of left-over make up off my cheeks from last nights show before I encountered any of my tour buddies. Just as I thought I had made it to the "safety zone", Doug and Ski, guitar tech and sound guy of Angels respectively, shouted out, "we don’t even get a hello?" I popped my head around the corner, maintaining a safe distance from the stage and from where their friendly voices were calling out. (I didn’t brush my teeth that morning. There would have been no use. It was 5 a.m. when we left and I was just going to go back to sleep in the van anyway. So there was no need to put anyone in any eminent danger now because of my earlier laziness). "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You know I love you guys. I’m just- I’m working!" I stiffly picked up a loner empty guitar case and shoved it in a corner to back-up my unlikely excuse. I love those guys. Off to the showers for me though, so I could once again feel like a woman and converse with confidence and pleasure.



The showers were a risk, but one I had to take. I suppose some sort of rare fungal disease is a fair trade for fresh skin and hair with volume. I’m very lucky that Angels 2nd tour manager, Jameson, allows me to "get ready" in his production office since his has the best light, the most able electrical outlets, and he has the most interesting musical taste, so it’s really quite enjoyable actually. He’s a very good sport, talking to angry promoters and confused band members over the roar of my travel blow dryer.



The P.A. system decided to die an hour before doors. The front-of-house sound guy for Angels behaved very gallantly and handled the situation with a heavy heart but a sure and focused mind and the problem of the sound was very much improved by the time everyone decided to continue with the show.



Yes, this was a home-town show for us, and I’m sure that because of this fact, the heavens above decided to make it a rough one. I describe live shows to my band like this: sometimes I spend the entire show fighting the music and focusing and attempting to play everything as perfect as possible under the uncomfortable circumstances, but the whole show is just a giant battle. It’s much like trying to yank away a doll by the hair with a screaming two year old on the other end. We both want the damn doll! Other nights its smooth sailing and it always feels like you’re surfing and the board catches the wave after all that energy you’ve spent flailing your arms to get ahead of the foamy water, and you just know that you caught it, and you’re good to go all the way back to the shore. No problem.



Regardless, It was good to see old friends and Nick’s family. After the show, packing the trailer, and a lovely visit to the merch table, Nick’s cousin introduced me to Sendak’s "Into the Night Kitchen", the second of the "Where the Wild Things Are" trilogy. The event was probably the 4th most significant event of my life. I read the whole thing out loud twice, memorized the publication and copyright date, and expressed my surprise and amusement due to all the unexpected nudity in a children’s book. I felt like Sendak was keeping a very powerful secret and explained the details through this innocent work of art. But then again, it was rather late and I was very tired. Other than that, I was excited to visit the gateway and eat excellent sushi at Happy Sumo and I’m even more excited to get a good night’s sleep tonight. Peace!



-Meg Frampton

















AvA

AvA

Milwaukee

Green Room

AvA

Who knows?

In the corner

AvA

AvA

Nick, Doug, Dave

Reading

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Milwaukee

Milwaukee

Milwaukee

Nick & Matt

Dia, Fred, Skee, and Forever