Downstate, NY-based Timeshares are sending AP updates from their east coast tour that's brought them to Stay Sweet Fest and back. Guitarist/vocalist Jonathan Hernandez's second entry is below.

4/10-4/12, West Chester, PA to Washington, DC. Mama, I Know We Broke The Rules

On Tuesday, we headed to Spraynard's hometown of West Chester, PA. All of the members of Spraynard either work at, or have worked at Grand Slam USA in Malvern. I called for what only seemed natural: a laser tag duel between ourselves and Spraynard.

That might sound exciting, but two paragraphs in and this is already a remarkably anti-climactic entry, because nothing like that happened. Only Mark joined us. Mark is really fucking good at laser tag though. Our squad was split. For my team I chose Jarad, who after sharing a riveting round of L.A. Machineguns, made me feel we had a certain chemistry with fictional firearms. I also selected Jason, whose demeanor always led me to believe he's familiar with the Art of War. Our team also included Mark, and if I haven't mentioned it yet, Mark is really fucking good at laser tag.

Our opponents were the well-meaning Mike Natoli, and the all-brawn Eric Bedell, who were carried by terrifying sniper Ed from NONA, and cold-blooded assassin Andy Gardiner of Slugging Percentage. We fought hard but they demolished us, with a rich knowledge of the terrain and remarkable cunning. In Game 2, Mark left us, and all seemed hopeless. The taste of defeat is vile, much like couscous in the way that I never want it in my mouth again. The squad plays accordingly, myself and Jason signaling each other around corners like soldiers. One could call us the Ass-Compactor, in that we crushed their asses in Game 2. Perhaps the greatest victory of all was to find Eric Bedell even more drenched in sweat than I was afterwards. It seemed we'd found one more shared passion, to throw atop the small pile with old Motown records, the work of Kurt Vonnegutt, Paul Simon's Graceland album, and eggs.

The show is fun, and we play a couple songs that we haven't played in a long time. We're excited that Spraynard's home court will give us a restful evening, where we remain well behaved and far from booze, but I still manage to wreck my voice talking shit while playing Super Smash Bros. Whoops.

That's why in Baltimore at Charm City Art Space I “Greg Brady” my way through our set. If you're not getting the reference, I'm trying to tell you that I didn't do so hot. Just Die! plays, and Just Die! is awesome. Matt Evans is in our fictional “You guys are way too pretty for this” band, that should become a real band and roll around in all the money they would make regardless of what the songs sounded like. He's joined by James Goodson from Hold Tight! on bass, and if I remember correctly, Eric Bedell is temping on drums until we think of a better one. Eric Bedell is getting a whole lot of spin in these things, isn't he?

That night I land a room to myself in the basement of the house we crash in that night. Guys in Dartagnan and Paul Newman And The Ride Home live there. One thing having a room to yourself knocks home is how much you actually miss sleeping in a room by yourself. You can roll over without elbowing anyone, you can reach for your phone without sticking your fingers in somebody's mouth. The peace isn't all too uncharacteristic of most nights on this trip though, and that gets me thinking; what's different this time? The nights are quieter, and there's been none of the regular bullshit and nonsense of us scampering off with practical strangers to wherever they could take us to do whatever the stupidest thing available was. This sort of thing is how we became close with a lot of people I've even mentioned typing all this crap up. We've taken pride in our knack for the stupid, and our resumes speak for themselves.